Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
April 21, 2019
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

If you were planted, what would grow? What is left in a room when you leave the room? What is left in a group when the group scatters? What would be left here on Earth when you leave?

Call to Worship
by May Sarton

Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers. 

Meditation Reading 
THE GARDENER 85 
by Rabindrahnath Tagore

Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. 

Open your doors and look abroad. 

From your blossoming garden… gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers an hundred years before. 

In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years. 

Sermon

Long ago and far away, I went on a pastoral visit to an old man in the hospital. Mr. Hatcher had a career as a civil rights and social justice activist, retiring from being the head of Piedmont Community Action, bringing the Head Start program to the county and improving hospital transportation for marginalized communities. In the back of the house was a deep gulley, covered in brush and poison ivy. He started puttering in the yard, and gradually overspilled the yard and began clearing out the gulley. “By that time, I was burned out on trying to solve human problems, and I took to the woods, where I could have a little more control over my environment and my friends the plants.” Thirty years later it was a ten acre garden open to the public. He had always told me he hoped his life would end before his legs gave out. “I always wanted to live to 95, he said, ” but living to 90 has made me think about changing my mind.” I took him a big sprig of rosemary from my garden, so he’d have something from the outside in his room. He held it to his nose and smelled deeply. “Ah, that rosemary really pulls its weight.”

He was himself a seed, you see, starting small, making his way through obstacles, a centimeter at a time, gathering helpers slowly. “I find an ugly spot and make it a beauty spot.” He said.

If you were a seed, what would grow from you?

Theologian Howard Thurman wrote “Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

We all know of people who started small and made a big difference. 16 year old Greta Thunberg started Friday Climate Protests in Sweden, and now she speaks all over the world. She starts her speech with “I’m Greta Thunberg, and I want you to panic.”

There is Yacouba Sawadogo, a man in Burkina Faso, who began planting trees to stop the desertification of his country. There is Kate Sessions, a botanist and horticulturalist in the late 1800’s who lived in San Diego. She did research and found trees all over the world that would grow in that dry climate, and she planted them there in San Diego. You can see the results of her efforts… it’s called Balboa Park. People have started great businesses in garages and kitchens. A publishing company started up and revitalized the town I lived in in upstate South Carolina. It started when a few friends were having coffee one morning. They wrote some words on a napkin. Now they publish amazing literature by Southern writers. A whole town now thinks of itself as a writers’ town. It’s not only starting something small, we carry beginnings within us like seeds.

We can be a seed in nearly every interaction. You have had people who have been an inspiration to you, who have said encouraging words that energized you. You have had interactions with people that discouraged you. You’ve read a line in a poem, a novel, a Scripture verse, you’ve heard lyrics of a song that made you stop short and say “I never heard it put that way…”

Here are some seeds that blossomed in me and changed my thinking. One was a teacher named Byron Katie, who said “We suffer when our thoughts argue with reality.”

One was in a 12 step meeting, when someone said “what other people think of me is none of my business.”

We can plant a seed of discouragement too: In my experience, someone bustling up and saying in an impatient voice “here, let me help you with that” can be nice, or it can communicate a lack of belief in your capability. In my Southern family, one way to sweetly diminish someone is by use of the word “little.” How’s that little project of yours coming?’ “How’s your little job?”

To be encouraging you might say something like “You’ve got this,” “You know what to do.”

“I’m right here if you need me.”

Some people are gifted at inspiring others to think, or to be courageous. If you look up the 10 most inspiring speeches, you get famous people saying things like “never give up, define success for yourself, make the world better, joy is always in process, it’s always under construction (Matthew Mconaughey) and Yoda “Do or do not. There is no try.” Which makes absolutely no sense to me. Then, of course, the ultimate inspire-er, (also fictional,) Coach Taylor, who wins, in my opinion, with “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose”

I’m not saying that you have to be Coach Taylor every day as you move through your life. I’m saying this. We’ve all watched CSI enough to know about Locard’s Exchange Princple, which says that wherever you go you leave traces behind. Fibers, fluids, skin cells, words, feelings. “every contact leaves a trace.” Some of us are carriers of anxiety. We worry so much, and we worry when other people aren’t worried enough, so we agitate them a bit so their foreheads are more rumpled when we leave them. Some carry laughter, some carry a listening presence. Some people carry peace. You just feel better when they’ve been around. Some are calming, some are strengthening. Some carry love. After interactions with them, you know you are loved, and you can love more. These are little things, the size of a seed sometimes. 

Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

Some of you have touched so many lives. You have been teachers, coaches, you’ve been in business with people, you have co-workers, you’ve had family and interacted with strangers. You may never know what seeds you’ve planted. You may have a student communicate with you and tell you years later what something you said meant to their lives. If you have had such a teacher, or such an interaction, think about making contact with that person to let them know.

Letter to Agnes De Mille from Martha Graham

There is a vitality,
a life force,
a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

And If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost.
The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine
how good it is
nor how valuable it is
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly
to keep the channel open….

Most sermons during the past 19 years are available online through this website. Click on the index link below to find tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on a topic to go to that sermon.

SERMON INDEX

Podcasts of this and other sermons are also available for free on iTunes. You can find them by clicking on the podcast link below or copying and pasting this link. https://itunes.apple.com/podcast/first-unitarian-universalist/id372427776 

PODCASTS

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
April 14, 2019
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

In advance of a church storytelling event the first weekend in May, we will talk about the power of our stories. We will talk particularly about the stresses put on us by the stories told about people with our particular identities, women, LGBTQ, people of color, white men, Etc. How do those stories shape us and put pressure on our thinking?

Call to worship 

A HAT FULL OF SKY
Terry Pratchett

There’s always a story. It’s all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything’s got a story in it. Change the story, change the world. 

Meditation Reading

THE NAME OF THE WIND
Patrick Rothfuss

Chronicler frowned. “Is that the one where the king sells his crown to an orphan boy?” 

Bast nodded. “And the boy becomes a better king than the original. The goosegirl dresses like a countess and everyone is stunned by her grace and charm.” He hesitated, struggling to find the words he wanted. “You see, there’s a fundamental connection between seeming and being. Every Fae child knows this, but you mortals never seem to see. We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.” 

Chronicler relaxed a bit, sensing familiar ground. “That’s basic psychology. You dress a beggar in fine clothes, people treat him like a noble, and he lives up to their expectations.” 

“That’s only the smallest piece of it,” Bast said. “The truth is deeper than that. It’s…” Bast floundered for a moment. “It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.” 

Sermon

We talk a lot about story in this pulpit. How events happen, and then we tell stories about what happened, to ourselves and to others. People experience the same event and tell different stories to make sense of it. The stories shape how you respond to the event. If someone is rude, you wonder if you did something to them. Maybe they were in pain, maybe they were tired. I’ve told you about my friend Pat, who, when cut off in traffic, says “Bless her heart, I bet she just got out of the hospital.” That’s one possible explanation. It changes how you feel about what just happened. If a bad thing happened some people will think it’s bad luck. Others will think the God of their understanding is punishing them for something. If someone sees a toddler crying, they might think “that baby is tired,” Someone else might think the parent is doing something wrong, or not doing something they should do. Someone without kids might think “When I have children, they will never behave like that.” The Karma Fairy laughs. My daughter-in-law posted a photo of my granddaughter crying. “She’s crying because her tongue is wet and I won’t let her keep drying it off.” No one would have guessed that story. 

Today I want to talk about a different aspect of story this morning. Stories other people you grew up in a family with more than one kid, there may have been stories about each one of you. One is the quiet one, one’s the pretty one, one’s the smart one, one’s trouble. Family roles are assigned. Usually one kid is the hero kid, does everything right, gets good grades, doesn’t cause trouble. Sometimes one gets the “scapegoat” role, where, when something breaks its assumed to be their fault. When there is a fight, they are assumed to have started it. One kid sometimes is the family clown, where their humor diffuses tension, or distracts the rest of the family from something that might cause a fight. One kid sometimes has the “distractor” role, and they will sometimes develop a problem in order to give the parents something else to focus on besides their deteriorating relationship or financial situation. This kid’s problem is a semi-conscious try to pull the family together. If you were the hero kid, that story told about you that you never gave your parents a moments trouble, or that you were the smartest one, or the story that you were trouble – those stories can shape your life forever. We tend to re-create the roles we had in our families in our grown up families, in our chosen families, in our workplaces and in our church community. 

What about stories that are told in the broader culture about us and our people, our identity groups? Studies since 1995 are showing that those stories affect us. This is called stereotype threat, or identity threat, and the stories cause stress if you are aware of them. 

Girls are bad at math. Boys are bad at verbal skills. There are stereotypes about Black and Brown kids, sometimes borne out by statistics. There are stereotypes about Asians, sometimes borne out by statistics. Stereotypes about gay men and lesbians, stereotypes about older white men, about young brown women, angry black women …. What the psychologists found is that when you are aware of stereotypes about your group, you sometimes stress about being lumped in with the negatives about your group. You carry your whole group on your shoulders, or you are aware that you will be allowed fewer mistakes than someone else, or that you will not be given the benefit of the doubt. 

Studies find that this awareness, this worry, interferes with some of the executive functioning of your brain. Updating, a skill of the part of your memory that is available for immediate work, is diminished. Learning new things is harder, the ability to take risks is suppressed. If a female student is treated in a sexist way by a male experimenter, she tends to do less well on tasks. When Slack students are told to do a task, and stereotypes about African-Americans are highlighted, they tend to perform less well than Black students who didn’t hear the stereotypes mentioned. When, before an experiment, men are reminded that the stereotype is that men are not so good at verbal skills, they do more poorly on verbal tasks than men for whom this stereotype isn’t highlighted. 

In progressive circles, now, white men might be worrying about not talking or acting like “a typical white guy.” People of color might step on their expressions of anger and outrage. I’ve heard friends talk about not wanting to come across like “that angry Black woman.” 

POEM I WROTE TO MY BLACK AND BROWN SISTERS: 
by Rev. Kristen Harper

My beautiful black, brown, sister with your 
Nonconforming grace and rhythm radiating soul. 
You with the big deep brown eyes and piercingly fierce gaze. 
You with the long, short, curly, straight, locked crown 
You in all your regal baldness. 
I know what lies beneath that controlled voice, that diminished expression
I can see behind the veil of servant, of surrogate. 
I feel the anger, the sadness, the frustration, the slow death 
of shrinking, of trying to become small so other’s won’t be intimidated,
won’t be afraid. 

I know the depression of stuffing, pushing down the roar of righteousness 
the roar that claims our humanity, our value, our right to name the truth. I see your goddessesness, your divine love, 
the depth of your black, brown brilliance. 
I hope someday you will too. See the 
years of survival not as a test-but a testimony, 
to a stubborn love born from generations of strong black, brown sisters –
Mothers who refused to give up, grandmothers who passed down 
more than recipes of arroz con polio, tandoori or fried chicken. 
Sisters, many sisters and aunts who held one another up, reached out a hand, shook us when we needed to wake up. 
My beautiful black, brown sister with your 
doubt, and your brokenness, and your dusty knees …
You are loved. 

How do we counter this? The studies show that derogation works with some people, sometimes. It’s the old “consider the source” tactic. If you can think derogatory things about the person or people thinking bad things about you and your identity, you do better. Constructive behavior works also, where you just put your head down and do an amazing job. Some people try denying their identity group, or its importance to them. 

So what is the take away from all of this? It’s natural to be a bit dimmed, a bit daunted and slowed down when you are worried about the stereotypes about one of your identities. When you see black and brown kids not doing as well at school, consider that one of the factors is this identity threat, that they pick up all kinds of subliminal cues about how teachers, administrators, other kids, and society at large “stories” about them. 

Hearing and seeing positives about your group helps a lot. If you’re a Black woman in a STEM field, lifting up Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson, the women who were calculators for NASA, whose work helped the US land on the moon. If you’re a Latinx kid, knowing about Latino scientists, journalists, authors and warriors can help. 

I don’t know if history erases the accomplishments of women and marginalized people on purpose, but it has a tremendous effect. The recent photograph of a black hole was taken in large part through an algorithm created by Dr. Katie Bouman. It only took the internet a day or two to notice that her contribution was downplayed, that she was an unnamed grad student in some stories, and that the right wing corner or the net began claiming that a white man in the lab was the one who really wrote the algorithm. He shut that down quickly. That’s an ally. 

Hold in mind the proud things about your identity. Know the proud things about other identities. The stories are strong. Tell all the stories, dig them up, hold them in your hands like smooth stones, reminding yourself of your strength and power. Then go shining. 

Most sermons during the past 19 years are available online through this website. Click on the index link below to find tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on a topic to go to that sermon.

SERMON INDEX

Podcasts of this and other sermons are also available for free on iTunes. You can find them by clicking on the podcast link below or copying and pasting this link. https://itunes.apple.com/podcast/first-unitarian-universalist/id372427776 

PODCASTS

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
April 7, 2019
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Using the music of Townes Van Zandt, combined with the April Soul Matters theme of Wholeness, we will talk about how we need one another in order to be whole. How can we care for one another? Is there a way to be loving and challenging at the same time? How do we reach out with compassion? Is compassion always the best approach to another person? How much are we supposed to take care of ourselves and how much do we take care of others?

Call to Worship

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr

Something should remind us once more that the great things in this universe are things that we never see. You walk out at night and look up at the beautiful stars as they bedeck the heavens like slinging lanterns of eternity and you think you can see all. Oh, no. You can never see the law of gravitation that holds them there. When I speak of love I’m not speaking of some sentimental and weak response. I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of love. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality.

Reading

LITANY FOR PEACE (adapted)
Thich Nhat Hanh

“Let us be at peace with our bodies and our minds.
Let us return to ourselves and become wholly ourselves.
Let us be aware of the source of being,
common to us all and to all living things.
Evoking the presence of the Great Compassion,
let us fill our hearts with our own compassion-
towards ourselves and towards all living beings.
Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be
the cause of suffering to each other.
With humility, with awareness of the existence of life,
and of the suffering that are going on around us,
let us practice the establishment of peace in our hearts and on earth.”

Sermon

“Heart of Compassion” story

I wanted to use the music of Townes Van Zandt because I love his lyrics, and he’s a local man. Some of you probably knew him. Some have been sharing your stories about him this week. I don’t know him, though, just watched a documentary of his life, which was lovely and frustrating and sad to watch. “To live is to fly,” he wrote, “low and high.” He certainly did both. In the movie friends tell a story about him being at a party. I’m not sure I remember the details exactly, but they were on on the balcony of a place, pretty high off the ground. He sat on the balcony’s ledge, and then, he explained afterwards, he just wondered what it would feel like to fall, so he fell. Throwing himself at the experience of life. That looks like something he did over and over. It looks like he was one of those people who are both amazingly easy and hard to love. There is a story in our culture about genius, about artists, that the more brilliant they are, the more messed up they are. The picture of the writer banging away on the typewriter keys, a bottle of whiskey on the table, or the rock star barely about to stand up, trying to get to the gig… It’s almost as if our culture both loves and loves to punish artists. They get to ride with the muse, they get to live in a garret and stay up all night and be adored, and then their passion, their excesses, carry them swiftly toward their own destruction. If you live too long they make jokes about you, about how after the nuclear winter, there will just be cockroaches and Cher. They blame you for aging, for continuing to be passionate about making art long after you should have thrown it over for a more responsible job.

In the writings of my colleague James Ford, I came across this: He says “I found myself thinking of something Achaan Chah Subato, the great Theravandan meditation master once said about broken glasses. I have it framed and hanging on a wall in my office:

“One day some people came to the master and asked ‘How can you be happy in a world of such impermanence, where you cannot protect your loved ones from harm, illness and death?’ The master held up a glass and said ‘Someone gave me this glass, and I really like this glass. It holds my water admirably and it glistens in the sunlight. I touch it and it rings! One day the wind may blow it off the shelf, or my elbow may knock it from the table. I know this glass is already broken, so I enjoy it incredibly.'”

When I read some of Townes Van Zandt’s poetry I see someone beating their wings like a moth against this truth. Everything and everyone is already broken. It takes the Sages years of humility and meditation to come to a place where they can look this truth fully in its face and find the joy in it, in being absolutely present in every moment with the beauty that is also there. Can you enjoy a friendship if there is always the lurking danger of one of you doing something that will end it? Can you look back at a marriage that ended and see that it was good for a while? Can you love your children knowing all of the dangers that are around and within them? Most of us can block out the knowledge that security is an illusion, that pain and joy intertwine in life, that when you love, you open yourself up to loss. Poets and artists don’t have that ability. They might try to forget what they see using drugs or alcohol, but when the daylight comes they see it all over again, the bright sharp truth that can blind you with its urgent light and send you spinning. 

In the song “Rake,” Townes Van Zandt writes:

You look at me now, and don’t think I don’t know
What all your eyes are a sayin’
Does he want us to believe these ravings and lies
They’re just tricks that his brains been a playin’? 
A lover of women he can’t hardly stand
He trembles he’s bent and he’s broken
I’ve fallen it’s true but I say unto you
Hold your tongues until after I’ve spoken

I was takin’ my pride in the pleasures I’d known
I laughed and thought I’d be forgiven
But my laughter turned ’round eyes blazing and
Said my friend, we’re holdin’ a wedding
I buried my face but it spoke once again
The night to the day we’re a bindin’
And now the dark air is like fire on my skin
And even the moonlight is blinding

Sooner or later what you know in the day stays with you at night, and what you know and do in the night comes all into your day until you can’t pretend any more that they’re separate. What you know when you are conscious and awake stays with you even when you are in your chosen oblivion. Once you see the fragility of things you can’t unsee it. You have to love if you can, knowing that what you love can go away. And for a poet, you have to keep writing about it.

What is the proper response to this painful realization? Is it to say “Gracious, that’s depressing, let’s not talk about it?” That is what most of us tend to do. As we grow in our spirit, though, we can learn that the best response to the pain, the joy, and the impermanence of this life is to embrace it with a wild courage. To respond to the pain with compassion. For others and for ourselves.

The British writer Warsan Shire writes:

“later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered 
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.” 

I am a happy person by nature, even though I worked as a therapist for many years and held oceans of pain in my ears, my eyes and my heart. I want to hold an atlas in my hand, acknowledge what Dr. Shire saw, and add “Where is beauty and joy? Everywhere. Everywhere.”

In Townes Van Zandt’s song “If I needed you” both are there.

If I needed you would you come to me
Would you come to me for to ease my pain
If you needed me I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain
Well the night’s forlorn and the morning’s born
And the morning shines with the lights of love
And you’ll miss sunrise if you close your eyes
And that would break my heart in two

How do we deal with a world of such impermanence? By being present to each moment, not wishing it away or clutching it to us. As the English poet Blake said 

“he who binds to himself a joy, doth the winged life destroy. But who kisses the joy as it flies lives in Eternity’s sunrise.” 

Being present to each moment, and having compassion for all beings. Now, this part feels wearying to me. All beings, really? Most of us survive by blocking out some of the horrors of the world, or acknowledging them but not dwelling on them. I remember the Buddha lived in a world without TV, much less the 24 hour news cycle. I take him to mean compassion for everyone you meet in your day. Still that’s wearying. Some people are hard to keep feeling compassion for, as their problems seem to be self-inflicted and they don’t seem to learn. An addicted friend is hard to stay compassionate towards. 

Then I remember. Oh, compassion doesn’t mean you have to fix it. You just feel for them in their struggle, if there’s no more to do for them. The Yogic teaching is helpful here. When you are acting with compassion toward someone for whom your compassion is not doing any good, and you are emptying yourself for someone who lets whatever you pour into them leak out, or when someone is just playing you, that is called “idiot compassion.” In this world things change fast. We try to stay present to the moment we’re in, compassionate to the people we’re with, and to ourselves. We learn as we go. 

As Townes wrote:

To live is to fly
Low and high
So shake the dust off of your wings
And the sleep out of your eyes

Hardly anyone in this life is healthy enough or wealthy enough not to need other people. Some of us have strong ideas about the people we need, but we’re often wrong. Teachers, another learning experience. Compassion fatigue. Not for any of you all, but for the world. “Where does it hurt?” Everywhere.

Yes. And. There is joy and pleasure everywhere too. I’ve needed a lot of help in my life. I’ve given a lot of help in my life. I have to say I like giving it more.

IF I NEEDED YOU
Townes Van Zandt

If I needed you would you come to me
Would you come to me for to ease my pain
If you needed me I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain
Well the night’s forlorn and the morning’s born
And the morning shines with the lights of love
And you’ll miss sunrise if you close your eyes
And that would break my heart in two
If I needed you would you come to me
Would you come to me for to ease my pain
If you needed me I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain
Baby’s with me now since I showed her how
To lay her lilly hand in mine
Luke and Lil agree she’s a sight to see
A treasure for the poor to find
If I needed you would you come to me
Would you come to me for to ease my pain
If you needed me I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain

We take care of each other to a certain extent, but not over certain boundaries. American Pema Chodron describes a conversation she had with an old man who was living on the streets for over four years. No one looks at him or talks to him. Sometimes someone gives him a little money, but no one really looks at him. No one asks how he is. It’s very lonely for him. People respond from discomfort, fear, anger, or judgment. According to Chodron, 

“Only in an open space where we’re not all caught up in our own version of reality can we see and hear and feel who others really are, which allows us to be with them and communicate with them properly.”

This openness is sometimes called emptiness in Buddhism. It means not shutting down or holding on too tightly When Things Fall Apart, 

I found myself thinking of something Achaan Chah Subato, the great Theravandan meditation master once said about broken glasses. I have it framed and hanging on a wall in my office:

“One day some people came to the master and asked ‘How can you be happy in a world of such impermanence, where you cannot protect your loved ones from harm, illness and death?’ The master held up a glass and said ‘Someone gave me this glass, and I really like this glass. It holds my water admirably and it glistens in the sunlight. I touch it and it rings! One day the wind may blow it off the shelf, or my elbow may knock it from the table. I know this glass is already broken, so I enjoy it incredibly.'”

The false view of being an artist meaning you have to be tortured and addicted.

RAKE
Townes Van Zandt

You look at me now, and don’t think I don’t know
What all your eyes are a sayin’
Does he want us to believe these ravings and lies
They’re just tricks that his brains been a playin’? 
A lover of women he can’t hardly stand
He trembles he’s bent and he’s broken
I’ve fallen it’s true but I say unto you
Hold your tongues until after I’ve spoken

I was takin’ my pride in the pleasures I’d known
I laughed and thought I’d be forgiven
But my laughter turned ’round eyes blazing and
Said my friend, we’re holdin’ a wedding
I buried my face but it spoke once again
The night to the day we’re a bindin’
And now the dark air is like fire on my skin
And even the moonlight is blinding

FLYIN SHOES
Townes Van Zandt

Days full of rain
Skys comin’ down again
I get so tired
Of these same old blues
Same old song
Baby, it won’t be long
‘fore I be tyin’ on
My flyin’ shoes
Flyin’ shoes
Till I be tyin’ on
My flyin’ shoes

Spring only sighed
Summer had to be satisfied
Fall is a feelin’ that I just can’t lose.
I’d like to stay
Maybe watch a winter day
Turn the green water
To white and blue
Flyin’ shoes
Flyin’ shoes
Till I be tyin’ on
My flyin’ shoes

The mountain moon
Forever sets too soon
Bein’ alone is all the hills can do
Alone and then
Her silver sails again
And they will follow
In their flyin’ shoes
Flyin’ shoes
They will follow in their
Flyin’ shoes

Days full of rain
Skys comin’ down again
I get so tired
Of the same old blues
Same old song
Baby, it won’t be long
Till I be tyin’ on
My flyin’ shoes
Flyin’ shoes
Till I be tyin’ on
My flyin’ shoes

Most sermons during the past 19 years are available online through this website. Click on the index link below to find tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on a topic to go to that sermon.

SERMON INDEX

Podcasts of this and other sermons are also available for free on iTunes. You can find them by clicking on the podcast link below or copying and pasting this link. https://itunes.apple.com/podcast/first-unitarian-universalist/id372427776 

PODCASTS