The fruit of the spirit, the gifts of age

Susan Yarbrough
November 27, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

We’ve just celebrated Thanksgiving with fruits of the earth, and we’re now preparing to celebrate Christmas, Chanukah, and Kwanzaa with gifts to each other. These holidays are not just times of celebration, but are also strong markers of age and memories. During this transitional season, let’s think together about what are the fruits of the spirit, and how we can use them to gather the gifts of age.


Text of this sermon is not available. Click the play button to listen.

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Great Fullness

Rev. Chris Jimmerson & Carolyn Gremminger
November 20, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Studies have found that intentionally practicing gratitude can improve our daily lives in numerous ways. We’ll get grateful together as we discuss gratitude spiritual practices.


Text of this sermon is not available. Click the play button to listen.

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Acceptance and encouragement

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
November 13, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Our third UU principle says we will affirm and promote acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations. Are there some ways to encourage one another that don’t sound like judgment or advice?


Sermon

There was a big election upset. “Upset” is how many of us feel. Sad, sick, shaken. Angry. Blaming people who didn’t vote, regretting not working harder, for believing pollsters and pundits. Many of us broke up with the news for a while, broke up with social media, cynical about anyone’s explanations of why and how this happened. They didn’t know squat before the election. Why listen to them now. Upset.

And here come the holidays, family time. Some stay with chosen family during those times (we’re having Thanksgiving dinner here at 2:30 on the day, but others go to the family they were born or adopted into. For most of us, there are people we will see who would say they love us, but who voted for someone whose policies and promises threaten us and our beloveds.

Do we beg off this season? Do we say we just have too much going on or do we tell the truth, that we have not yet figured out how to sit at a table and eat with people who actively participated in bringing about a situation in which we or our beloveds are suddenly endangered, vulnerable? Did they just want change so badly that they were willing to shrug off our fears as unfounded? Would they shrug off stories of bullying’s escalation, of hate crimes increasing? Would they shake their heads and say “not all Trump supporters?” They would never beat up someone. If they saw a person of color thrown to the ground by a white man, would they interfere? If it were a police officer would they start filming? If they went into their kids’ school and saw a kid with brown skin crying because someone just told her to go back to Mexico, or because her best uncle just got deported, would they shrug and say well, you don’t have a country if you don’t have borders? They have shrugged off a cascade of racist statements and stances, the discovery of a confession of sexual assault (yes, grabbing a woman’s private places is a sexual assault,) they have shrugged off or explained away mysterious finances, possible ties to an enemy power, made it clear that we queer folks, brown and black folks, women and children don’t deserve protection as much as they deserve— what? Survival is how some Trump voters see it. They need jobs and they feel forgotten (because they have been) and they feel endangered. In most rural parts of the country, there is no liberal news channel. Maybe they’ll get CNN, but mostly they get Fox. Fox facts are the only facts they hear. They want to feel safer, and they made a choice to dismiss and shrug away the dangers staring the rest of us in the face. That’s hard to understand and forgive. Also, I could be wrong. They may not want to feel safer. They may also not want to change their picture of what an American looks like. Or they may just want someone in charge who is a Big Daddy, and will tell them he’s got this, don’t worry any more.

Some white folks are claiming to be so surprised, shocked at the glimpse of the America they’ve just seen. They had NO IDEA it was this bad. No person of color is shocked or stunned. It was part of a sleepy and thoughtless privilege to remain unaware of the racism and the deep-rooted sexism in our culture. Now they’ll say “Oh, it’s not that bad.” And it won’t be bad for a lot of us. It will continue to be bad and worse for women, who are already hearing coarse men “joking” about grabbing their private places. What we have learned is that people who say they love us are willing to shrug, to excuse, to blame it on God or their preacher, to minimize our fear and wave away our concerns. The Mike Pence headshake with downcast eyes and dismissive chuckle is going to become the gesture of art in conversation.

How do we talk to those we love, those who claim to love us, when they have chosen to vote for “change,” (the kindest word I can find for this conflagration of American Constitutional values)

What we know is that it’s going to be really difficult. Awkward at its very best. I’ll tell you what I know today, and that’s the best I can do.

We go BACK TO BASICS when things get bad. That’s what we do. Our UU basics are our principles. The third one, the one I was scheduled to talk about today, turns out to be perfect for this problem. We covenant together to affirm and promote acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations. You all know that I like to say “in our homes and congregations,” so here we go.

Acceptance of one another means acceptance of the people who have different ideas from ours. Acceptance of the people does not mean or even imply acceptance of all of their ideas, because some ideas are destructive, and lead to injustice. We accept the people, though. I accept that you are who you are, and I trust that you will be you. I may need to protect myself or others from you. I may need to limit what I talk to you about, but I accept that you are who you are. That’s being a Unitarian Universalist. What is this “encouragement to spiritual growth” part, though? Well, spiritual growth is where you get clear about your values, and you live those values, so your spirit’s water runs clear and doesn’t hurt anyone downstream. Do we encourage spiritual growth through argument? I imagine there are some people who have grown through being harangued or shamed, but not many. People grow spiritually when we feel a dissonance between our values and our actions, and when we can deal with that dissonance in an atmosphere of curiosity and respect. Not safety, necessarily. Change is hard. No comfort, but curiosity and respect.

1. Figure out what you want for you, what you want for them, and what you want for the relationship. That’s what the Crucial Conversations people suggest. 2. Listen deeply. Listen with focus, suffused with curiosity, until you can almost see how they got there. That’s what the FBI hostage negotiators suggest when you’re trying to get someone rigid with certainty and grievance to put down their weapon and come out peacefully.

3. Give your own internal “weather report.” No one can argue with you saying “I feel afraid for my people who are black, brown, undocumented, queer, differently abled. I am sick and sad, and watchful for signs of autocracy. I love this country whether it’s right or wrong, and that means that sometimes it’s wrong. I believe it’s wrong now. And I love you, even though I’m hurt by your actions right now.”

4. Don’t despair. This may sound harsh, but that is a privileged response. Folks in marginalized communities and populations have been struggling forever. There is life and joy in the midst of struggle. Just because there is a struggle doesn’t mean you did something wrong. Not everything can be fixed. Life is struggle, and we can’t afford to give up.

5. Resist at every turn. The time to be nice and silent is not now. We don’t argue and shame individuals, but public policies, actions of the government, contempt for the press or the judiciary? We lobby. We write letters, we make noise. Those of us who are disruptors disrupt, and those who want the power of respectability, use that power for good.

6. One thing people are doing to indicate that they are protectors, safe spaces, is to wear safety pins on their clothing. We have boxes of them in the Gallery at the Social Action table. BUT. Here’s what it means when you put it on. You are willing to get next to a brown or black or Muslim person at a bus stop if you see them being harassed. It means you have looked online to see how to deescalate a potentially violent situation. We don’t want to make things worse. It means you will take the time to find out how to get that person to safety. If you have your kids with you you may want to take it off, if you don’t want them involved in such a situation. If you are feeling rushed and committed or weak and weird that day, you can take it off. People are wearing them, not to signify that they are a perfect ally, but to signify that they want to get there, and that they are actively seeking out training in order to be a good ally. We don’t wear them because all the cool kids are doing it, or because we feel guilty about the racist comments we didn’t challenge in order to keep things sweet on the surface.

7. Challenge. A good long stare is sometimes enough. A full minute of silence, count it off in your head. You haven’t said anything, you can’t be kicked out of the family or friend group, but the Dowager Countess face with a full minute of silence will go far. Let’s practice that now.

8. Engage by asking questions. Questions are powerful. Most of your ministers have preached sermons about asking good questions. “Help me understand this.” “How did you come to this view?” “What is your favorite thing about this?” “Do you have any concerns about this?” I wrote a whole sermon about asking questions that should be on our podcast somewhere. Watch Van Jones’ The Messy Truth videos. He is a Black man, a commentator on CNN, he spoke at General Assembly a few years ago. He gets in a room with a politically and racially mixed group and engages with such strength and kindness until he gets to the common values people can agree on. So we can build on strengths instead of clawing at differences.

9. We cannot afford to be squeamish here. We cannot be separatists. If you don’t have the spiritual strength to get in there and find common ground with people, that’s how it is, but if you do, you can build on people’s strengths, on their values. Van Jones as filmed some conversations of himself doing this in mixed political groups. He searches underneath the facts and talking points for someone’s vision of how things should be. Maybe we can ask people about the world they think should be. Maybe we can say “what is your vision of a fair country?”

There are loud and scary people in this country with varying points of view. Some of the loudest, scariest people who used to be dismissed as being fringe elements have just won the right to occupy the White House. If we talk to our friends and relatives who were Trump voters, if we find shared values with those regular people, we strengthen them and ourselves for times of trouble. Most of them don’t want to see hate crimes. They don’t want to see school children bullied. If we can all agree on that, that’s something. Most of us, after eighteen months of the most astonishingly vulgar and shocking campaign rhetoric, feel battered, wounded. Many of us are triggered and traumatized by having a loud verbally and sexually aggressive insecure narcissist in our peripheral vision for a long time, representing the loud aggressive bullying man in our past experience. Many among us do not have the strength yet to do anything like have a curious conversation with Trump supporters. Those among us who do, though, need to strengthen alliances. Things will go badly for the asylum seekers first, and those are our people. Then they will go badly for the undocumented men and women, boys and girls. People of color, poor people, women, gay women, gay men, then men who disagree with those in power. I hope none of that happens, but we are watching. We are watching for how the press is being treated, and it’s not starting in any kind of a reassuring way. This is not up to anyone else, my people. We must train ourselves to be the safe ones. You can wear safety pins to designate yourself as a safe person for Muslims, people of color and the undocumented. If you wear them, though, be sure to know that it means you have some knowledge of what to do in a situation where you’re needed. Whom to call, where to drive someone to, which agencies can be of help. We don’t wear safety pins because we would like to be competent allies, but because we are becoming competent allies. May that be so, more and more.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Right speech

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
November 6, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

In the third strand of the Noble Eight-Fold Path, the Buddha recommends that we abstain from lying, divisive speech, abusive speech, and idle chatter. How might we do this?


We gather this morning on the Sunday before a Presidential campaign which has broken all recent records for vulgarity and nastiness. Well, there was the election of 1828, where Adams’ camp called Andrew Jackson a slave-trading, brawling murderer. This was ugly, but no one could much quibble, as it was all true. Jackson’s people said Adams was visiting with his wife before she was divorced, and that, as ambassador to Russia he had procured an American working girl for Alexander 1. The one that takes the prize for me was when, in 1800, the Federalists let it be known far and wide that the Republican candidate, Thomas Jefferson, was dead. That was a rank exaggeration. It’s been bad lately. I don’t mean to make light of it. The fabric of our culture is showing the wear. The Buddha said Right Speech entails “Abstaining from lying, abstaining from divisive speech, abstaining from abusive speech, abstaining from idle chatter.” Buddhist teachers as you to wonder whether something you are about to say is true, and whether it is useful.

When we lie, we damage the bond between people. If you lie people don’t know who you are. Our interactions with one another are founded on steady ground between us. It’s strongest when I know you are telling me truth as far as you can, and I’m telling you truth. Lying makes us all sick, the one who lies, and the one who is lied to. We live in a culture of speech. All around us is talking. We read emails and ads and we watch TV and we talk to one another. Almost all ads are lies; almost all TV is lies of one sort or another. To say you will do something and then not follow through is a lie. I’m guilty of that one. Doing what you say you will do makes more happiness and less suffering. To find someone who speaks the truth to us is a treasure. To be a person who speaks the truth will make you a treasure.

Let me say something here. Buddhist teacher Eric Kolvig points out that the Buddha didn’t say “if you lie, you’re a bad person.” Buddhism is not a path of morality, of good and bad. It is a path of noticing, becoming aware. Instead of “good” and “bad,” there is “harmful, increasing the suffering in the world,” and “not harmful,” increasing peace in the world.” Everyone wants to be happy. Almost everyone. The eight-fold path: right view, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration, is the way to freedom from suffering, to peace of mind and happiness. If you notice yourself lying, don’t beat yourself up, don’t wallow in the delicious drama of being a bad person, just notice and gently wonder “What would this situation be like if I were to speak more truthfully?” One of my teachers, Wendy Palmer, writes that Wondering is so much more effective than trying.

Abstaining from “divisive speech” is the next element of right speech. What is that? It’s anything that drives a wedge between us. If I gossip about her (over there) to you (over there) even if it’s true, then you know something about her that she doesn’t know you know, and you have to not let her know that you know it. If the connection between the two of you is like a road, it becomes difficult to travel a road with that big a boulder sitting in the middle of it. In one of the books I read this week, Rabbi Stephen Wylen says we shouldn’t say things that lower another in the estimation of one with whom you are speaking, unless you are giving a factual warning about someone to prevent harm or loss, and you do that with doubt, like “I don’t know if this person has changed, but he was abusive to his last wife, so you may want to keep your guard up for a while if you go out with him.” In our congregational behavioral covenant, we agree to “limit disagreements to the individuals or groups directly involved.” This prevents divisive talking as folks gather support in the wider community for their side of a conflict. We have seen so much divisive speech in this cycle, categorizing groups of people and painting them as criminal, lazy, stupid, weak. We look at each other and are almost repulsed “HOW could they be so…?” Anything that turns it into “us” and “them” is divisive. We wil hardly ever succeed in including everyone when we say “us,” but we can wonder what the world would be if we did that.

It could be that just talking about someone who isn’t there can be divisive. The Buddhist teachers I read all talked about becoming mindful of talking about an absent third party. Not that it’s always harmful, but it often is, so it’s an interesting exercise to become aware of doing it.

Other teachers say talking about one another builds community. We drop interesting tidbits about other people that help others see how amazing they are.

The third element in the Buddha’s teaching about right speech is that we refrain from abusive speech. It makes us sick to heap abuse on other people, and it’s likely that we talk to ourselves that same way. That makes us sick for sure. So many hear abusive speech as children, and it sticks in your heart and begins to shout at you in your own voice. When people speak to you abusively, it tells you much more about them than it does about you. They are hurting, they are poisoned, and they can’t even see you clearly, much less speak to you in a way that is about you.

Sometimes we are tempted to tell the truth in a way that is abusive — just to let someone have it. Even when what we’re saying is true, if we using the truth as a weapon against someone, it can do harm. Hard truths should be said in love. Gently. With respect. With the willingness for the hard truths about yourself to be told as well.

The last element of Right Speech, according to the Buddha’s teaching is abstaining from “”Idle chatter.” Well, like they say, “Now you’ve quit preachin’ and gone to meddlin.” I read a story about a man who decided he wouldn’t speak if it weren’t necessary, and he was silent for the next thirteen years. That made me mad. How do you decide what’s necessary? Telling your partner you love them every day at least once is necessary, in my opinion. It’s not a situation where you can say “Honey, I told you I love you when we got together and I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Asking someone how their day was is relationship strengthening. Is it necessary? Maybe that silent man wasn’t in any relationship. Maybe he didn’t even have a dog, or a friend. How do you decide what’s “idle chatter?” Humph. Well, I know it when I hear it.

The Talmud says God spoke to the tongue and said “all the other parts of the body I have made standing up, but you I have made lying down, and I have built walls around you.” The word is powerful. It can create and it can destroy. Choose to create. Your inner wisdom will guide you. Silence

The wise man in the teaching story said he had decided never again to utter an unnecessary word. He was silent for the next twelve years. The story didn’t say what persuaded the wise man to break his silence. I think that would have been important information. When the story was done, I felt mad. Yes, mad. I do understand the beauty and the power of silence. In conversations with clients, with my children, with parishioners, I stay silent sometimes as a way to give them space to figure things out on their own, and oftentimes they do. In my office I have a carved wooden mask of a woman’s face, and she is holding one finger up to her lips. She reminds me to say less. Sometimes that works.

Why did the teaching story make me so mad? I guess because it was teaching that you shouldn’t say unnecessary words. What makes a word necessary? I have done couples counseling for nearly twenty years now, and silence does as much damage to a relationship as hard words. Sweet words strengthen the bond between people. We need to hear that we are loved, that we look good, that we did a great job, that we are appreciated. Those are necessary words. I have known people who starved to death emotionally in relationships where their partners didn’t believe in saying unnecessary words. Some folks think the only thing talking is good for is to exchange information or to give advice. You say, “talk to me about your day,” and they say “It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. No new information.” You say “Tell me how you feel.” and they answer, “It wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t fix the situation.”

Stories that families tell carry history and identity. Stories friends tell to one another, on one another, create bonds and memories that can support a life when it’s sagging. I was on the phone with my sister last night. Our beloved friend Pat Jobe visited them last month in Texas; he and his seven year old son spent the day. Now, Pat’s a talker, and so is his boy, and so is my brother in law. My sisters children are now telling Pat stories, imitating his voice as they remember lines from his stories. Their family was fed by the lack of silence. They have enough to go on now for months, just from that one day. They tell his stories back to me. One day at a party he was telling a woman that he was jealous of Charles Burgin because “Charles is better looking than me, richer than me, he’s more successful than me and he’s funnier than me.” The woman said “Oh, Pat, he’s not funnier than you.” Last night on the phone my sister had to give the receiver to her eight year old daughter so she could deliver the punch line to me. Her little girl voice said, in a dead-on Forest City NC accent. “OH Pat, he’s not FUNNIER than you!”

I want to say to that silent wise man: “Mr. wise man, I hope you are not in a relationship, and I hope you don’t have any children, and I hope you don’t have any friends, because, if you are, shame on you for not thinking it necessary every day to say “I love you,” or “How are you?” or “Tell me your day.” I hope you live in a hermitage far away from folks who need you or love you, maybe with one very understanding cat and I hope you pat her.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Honoring the ancestors

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 30, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

As we approach Halloween, All Saints and All Souls days, we might think about which ancestors we would choose to honor, and what actions we could take to honor them.


During the time of meditation we called out the names of those we have lost. The Celtic tradition says that the veil between the worlds of the dead and the living are thin at this time. In the Mexican/Aztec tradition, these are the days to celebrate the death of innocent babies and little children, then the next day, adults who have died. The Roman Catholic church delineates All Saints Day on Nov 1, and then All Souls Day on the 2nd.

This is a good time of year to honor those who have gone before us. Do we want to be just like them? No, we are each a unique self, and not to be the best of who we are dishonors the creative force. Do we search our ancestors to find something of ourselves? Of course.

Genealogy becomes a mania, an obsessive struggle to penetrate the past and snatch meaning from an infinity of names. At some point the search becomes futile – there is nothing left to find, no meaning to be dredged out of old receipts, newspaper articles, letters, accounts of events that seemed so important fifty or seventy years ago. All that remains is the insane urge to keep looking, insane because the searcher has no idea what he seeks. What will it be? A photograph? A will? A fragment of a letter? The only way to find out is to look at everything, because it is often when the searcher has gone far beyond the border of futility that he finds the object he never knew he was looking for.”
– Henry Wiencek, The Hairstons: An American Family in Black and White

Some people use Ancestry.com, others do the mitochondrial DNA testing where you swab your cheek and send it off in the mail. Everyone has ancestors, whether they were the ones who raised you or not. They are part of you.

I’ve told you some family stories, mostly about the Southerners on my mother’s side. I want to start by telling you about my dad’s aunt Neoskaleeta this morning. She was the oldest of three children, born in Huntingdon, PA to Rev. and Mrs. Tiffany. We don’t know why, but there in the 1890’s, they named their daughters, Mary Neolskaleeta and one Ruth Winureeta Tiffany. Local Native names. Ruth Tiffany was my grandmother, and Aunt Neosk found “Mary” to be dull and always went by Neoskaleeta, or Neosk. She had an illness as a child, maybe scarlet fever, and her hair fell out. When it grew back in, it was flaming red. She was argumentative, in contrast to her sweet sister, rebellious, and willful. In high school, when she declared she wanted to be a doctor, the principal told her that was out of range for a girl, but she could become a nurse. She went away to college, then medical school, got her diploma, rode back into Huntingdon on a motorcycle, went to the high school, and smacked the diploma down on the Principal’s desk.

She moved to Bahrain to be a doctor and married a man who worked for Standard Oil. A family story says that one day, men on horseback brandishing swords came and demanded she go with them. A sheik’s favorite wife was having trouble in childbirth. He wouldn’t have a male doctor look at her, and he’d heard there was a woman doctor in that town and went to fetch her. After hours long travel, she met with the sheik. If you save my wife, and if she has a daughter, I will pay you this much. If you save her and she has a son, it will be this much more. If she dies, you can find your way home across the desert alone. She saved the woman, who had a son, and the sheik gave her a back of gold and jewels. She gave those jewels to her children and grandchildren one at a time over the years. That’s what I hear. My grandmother, Ruth, married the preacher. He was a towering figure in the US during the twenties, thirties, and forties and fifties. They still sell his books in Christian book stores, I’m glad they are all part of me, but it’s Neoskaleeta I’m going to invite to sit down at the table with my inner committee. Do you have an inner committee? Who is on it? Any ancestors?.

This morning I want to tell you about some of our Unitarian and Universalist ancestors.

Who will we want to emulate? A Universalist preacher named Hosea Ballou? 1796-1852 The “family” stories about him: “Hosea Ballou, another Universalist once found himself sharing a carriage with a minister from another denomination, someone who believed very much in hell and damnation. Midway through their ride, the fellow asked him: “Could it be that you are Hosea Ballou, the infamous Universalist preacher?” Hosea admitted with pride to being who he was, and this other minister began to question him about his beliefs.

“So you do not believe in the existence of hell?”
“No.”
“Not even for the punishment of truly heinous crimes?”
“No.”
“Not even when you imagine that you yourself could be the victim of such a crime? Can you not conceive of a space in hell for someone who harmed you personally?”
“I cannot conceive of any place in hell, friend, for it does not exist.” Finally, exasperated and upset, the man asked Hosea, “Am I to understand then that if I were a Universalist, there would be nothing to stop me from killing you and the driver and making off into the night with this carriage?” And Hosea replied, “No, sir. If you were a Universalist, the thought of doing so would not have occurred to you.”

Another time a father came to him, concerned for the eternal soul of his son, who was always in the bars, partying and making bad choices. Please talk to him, pastor! He begged.
YES, let’s go build a fire outside the bar, and we’ll drag him out of the bar and throw him in it!
The father was horrified. “Why would I do that to my son?”
Ballou nodded. Why indeed, and are you a better parent than God?

There is Theodore Parker, a Transcendentalist Unitarian minister who founded a Vigilance Committee to get in the way of the slave catchers who came to Boston to kidnap men and women who had escaped slavery and drag them back South. He was a fiery abolitionist, and had an integrated congregation. He was constant about reminding people about the Black activists and soldiers who helped with the Revolutionary War. He wrote a letter to President Millard Filmore, another Unitarian forbear, which said There hangs in my study . . . the gun my grandfather fought with at the battle of Lexington… and also the musket he captured from a British soldier on that day,” Parker wrote in his letter to President Fillmore. “If I would not peril my property, my liberty, nay my life to keep my parishioners out of slavery, then I should throw away these trophies, and should think I was the son of some coward and not a brave man’s child.” Millard Filmore thought he was doing the best thing for the Union, signing the Fugitive Slave Act, which allowed slave-catchers to come north and snatch people. The new law also required all private free citizens to assist in the capture of those who had escaped. The members of the Vigilance Committee followed the slave catchers, harassed them, got in their way in many ways. They saved the lives of the men and women on the slave catchers’ list.

Margaret Fuller is one of the most dramatic female forbears. Her life is like an opera. She was born to a Unitarian family, educated in Latin, math, writing. She was a frequent visitor to the Emerson’s home, and a conversational adversary to him. Rumor has it that he had a great crush on her, but we don’t know if there was anything between them. She became a foreign correspondent for Horace Greely’s paper, the NY Tribune, He sent her to London to cover the literary world, but she became passionate about the Italian revolution, and went to Italy to cover the revolution there. Before this, war news was written by soldiers, and involved stories of battles and strategy. She wrote about the French bombardment of Italian citizens, and her stories held the human interest that war stories hadn’t included before that. She met an Italian Count, and they had a baby. Maybe tney weren’t married. She was advised not to come back to New England with a love child and an Italian Count, but they set sail. Caught in a storm, the ship was battered by waves and began to fall apart within plain sight of shore. A sailor said “I think I can make it, hand me the baby!” He strapped the baby to himself and dived in. They both drowned immediately. She stood on the deck as people on the shore watched in horror, her white night gown and her dark hair whipping in the wind, as the ship broke apart, its wooden hull battered from within by a giant marble bust of John C Calhoun being delivered to from Italy.

We are going to be ancestors ourselves. Whose story guides us? What family traditions do we carry on, consciously or unconsciously? What stories do we want told about us by our children’s children’s children? Do we sometimes do the wrong thing for reasons which seem sensible to us, as Millard Filmore did? Did we strain our relationships for the sake of justice or authenticity? Did we flout convention or do we live within the mores of a community to build trusting relationships or did they find a way to do both?

We can get guidance from the lives of those who have gone before us. No one is without flaws. No one is superhuman. Sometimes I color part of my hair red to honor Neoskaleeta, her intelligence and courage. I preach because that’s who I am, and I hope it honors all the preachers I come from. We are grateful to be here. We are grateful to be here together.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Right intention and the 10-10-10 rule

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 23, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

When making a decision, the 10-10-10 rule is used to think about where you’ll be in 10 minutes, 10 months, and 10 years after the choice. Similarly, the second strand of the Buddhist Eightfold Path is sometimes translated as right intention.


Call to Worship
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

“A person will worship something, have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts, but it will come out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping, we are becoming.”

Sermon

The meditation reading was from Emerson, and he said what you believe about life shapes what you think about. What you think about shapes your actions. Your actions shape your work, your relationships, your whole life.

Buddhist teacher Bhikkhu Bodhi says The Buddha talked about two kinds of thoughts: those that lead to happiness and those that lead to pain. The ones leading to pain are thoughts of desire and greed, thoughts of ill will, and thoughts that lead to harmful actions. Those that lead to happiness are thoughts of contentment, thoughts of good will, and kind thoughts that lead to non-harming. Happiness will follow that person like a shadow, always there. For the person who thinks greedy, hateful, vengeful thoughts, pain follows like a cart follows the ox who is pulling it. Does happiness shadow you wherever you go, or do messed up situations lumber behind you like a cart on wobbly wheels? The first strand of the path was “right understanding, “or “right view.” Your right view of existence affects the things you care about, it affects where you put your focus, your habits of attention. The right view, or right understanding we talked about last month is the realization that life is full of suffering. Suffering is caused by desire. If you could let go of desire you lose your suffering. Not your pain, because pain comes with life in a body, but your suffering over your pain, the stories you tell yourself about your pain. The eightfold path of wise thought and action is the way to move yourself toward happiness. The teaching assumes that we want to be happy. It’s not wrong to want happiness, to aim for freedom from suffering.

Buddhism invites you to make three intentions, which I’ll tell you in a few minutes. First let’s try to look at the intentions currently guiding us. Emerson says you already have intentions that permeate your life. Do you want to be loved above all else? Do you want to be beautiful? The smartest? Powerful? Secure? Admired? Helpful? Do you want to leave the world a better place than you found it?

What are the stars you steer by? If you were to make a circle and pretend it was a compass, what one word would be at each compass point?

Martha Beck writes, in her book Steering By Starlight, that to find your real desires, you should ask yourself “what then?” questions about them. Say you want your business to succeed. Why? You would be respected. What then? Your dad will finally give you his blessing. What then? You can stop feeling like a failure. Odds are there is another way to stop feeling like a failure, because that feeling is inside you, not somewhere external. You want your business to succeed so you can have money. What then? You would feel secure. What then? You could stop feeling afraid. Is there another way to stop fear? Say you want a baby. What then? You would feel loved. Is that the way to get there? Maybe yes and maybe no, but it’s a hard job for a kid to be born to fill a hole in an adult. Is joy on your compass anywhere? Contentment? Think all the way out into the future, and imagine the feeling you want to have about your life.

Susy Welch, a business writer with a demanding job, a marriage and school aged children, talks about thinking out into the future in this way. She came up with a way to make decisions in her overwhelmed, information drenched, demand-crunched life. Should I say yes to the Saturday meeting the boss wants me to lead, which will be a huge plus in my column when it comes to promotion time, or should I say no to the meeting and go to my son’s black belt test? She asked herself this question: what would each course of action bring into my life in 10 minutes, 10 months or 10 years? I0 minutes from now her boss would be happy and her son would be crushed. 10 months from now her job would still be full of opportunities and her son would have a tangible memory of her love and support. In 10 years he would be looking for a relationship with someone who was not an out of control work-a-holic, and he would be confident that he was number one with her. That’s the decision she made. OR, and this is my contrariness, in 10 minutes her son would be happy and her boss would be disappointed, in 10 months she could be looking at someone else in the job she had coveted, and her kids would have had plenty of chances to feel her love, and if she had given up the meeting her son wouldn’t have grasped the sacrifice she’d made, and in 10 years he’d be looking for someone whose world revolved around him and he’d have unreasonable expectations.

I think the 10 10 10 works for decisions like “do I really want to go to the gym today?” In 10 minutes you’ll feel virtuous, but maybe whiny about missing a nap. In 10 months you’ll be stronger and maybe grow addicted to the gym. In 10 years it’ll be so much a part of your life that you don’t even look at it as a decision any more.

I think the 10 10 10 is a fun way of considering choices, and that the most useful part of it is the 10 year thinking. In order to think that far out you have to know what you’re aiming for. You need to have hold of your core values, you want to be squinting into your spyglass at the star on the horizon by which to steer.

Remember the three intentions the Buddha recommends? Here they are. First, you understand that greed, craving, and desire cause fear and suffering, so you make an intention to renounce desire. Second, you intend to have good will toward all beings. Third, you make an intention to do no harm. These intentions cure fear and suffering. They move you toward freedom and joy. Intend to have good will towards all beings. Intend to do no harm. You still might get fired, get sick, go broke, lose a child to illness, violence or accident. Life holds both beauties and horrors. Your intention is like a rope you’ve fixed along the way to your goal, and you can grab hold of that rope when conditions get rough. An intention forms your thoughts and gives rise to your actions. It’s not a feeling, or a hope, it’s a plan of action. Scarlett O’Hara set her intention on her knees in a field with the sunset behind her “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.” That intention shaped her decisions, for good or ill, for the rest of her life – uh – for the rest of the movie. Some of us set intentions very early in life that shape the person we become: “I will find security.” “I will not be around anger.” “I won’t try – it just sets me up for failure.” “I will never be hurt again, so I just won’t get attached to anyone or hope for anything.”

Marilyn Monroe said “I just want to be wonderful.” There is an intention that can shape a life.

To be content, as the Buddha said, and Suzy Welch came up with later, is that you look a couple of steps ahead of your desires. If you want to drink yourself to sleep every night, you think about what comes after that: sick feelings and a sense of having done yourself damage. If you think ahead to the feelings that will come after you act on that desire, the Buddha says, you don’t have to repress the desire. Everyone has always known that repressing desires doesn’t work very well at all. Thinking it through sometimes can. When you think it all the way through, the craving just falls away like autumn leaves from a tree. If you want to have an affair, you think two or three steps ahead to the chaos and insanity that will likely come into your life because of that. If you want to change relationships, you certainly can. Just don’t sit in one thing and hope for another thing. Clarity works to diminish the desire. Be content with where you are, or think what needs to change and change it.

If we have the intention to be content, we practice being content. We are grateful for what we have. We take care of where we are, the things we have, the people we have in our lives.

If we intend to have good will, we practice letting go of resentments. That’s hard, and fortunately there is magic to help you. That magic is called the resentment prayer, where you pray for a person to have everything in their life that you want in yours. So you would pray for your mother in law to have peace of mind, financial security, good health, etc. In Buddhism it’s called the metta, or loving kindness prayer, and you don’t have to believe in it or even mean it at first, you just try it.

If we intend harmlessness, for some of us that means we give up doing wrong to people. For others, it might mean giving up violent thoughts, for others it might lead them to eat in a vegan way, the way of most compassion and the least harm. What does it mean for you? Take the steps that feel natural, that feel like a call, that feel like a move toward freedom and joy. So it’s little by little. Contentment and peace rather than agitation and anger. It takes practice, practice, practice.

Notice what intention has been guiding your life. It works like a mission statement. Wonder to yourself how it has shaped your experiences and wonder ( so much better than making a resolution) what your life would be like if you intended to be content, do no harm, to have good will toward all beings.

“Be a lamp, a lifeboat, a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.” –Rumi


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

I got the music in me

Rev. Chris Jimmerson
October 16, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

After the last weekend of Austin City Limits Music Festival, in this church where music is such an integral part of our religious and spiritual experience, we look at the unique ways in which music moves our spirits.


Call to Worship

Come, Come
-adapted from Rumi by Leslie Takahashi Morris

Come, come, whoever you are
Come with your hurts, your imperfections,
your places that feel raw and exposed.
Come, come, whoever you are
Come with your strengths that the world shudders to hold
come with your wild imaginings of a better world,
come with your hopes that it seems no one wants to hear.

Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving
we will make a place for you,
we will build a home together.
Ours is no caravan of despair.
We walk together;
Come, yet again come.


Reading

Song of the Universe

For each child that is born
A morning star rises
And sings to the universe
who we are.

Listen carefully…
Can you hear the song
The one sung for you
When you were born.
The song sung by the cosmos
In motion
Rejoycing at your life.

You the result.
You the outcome.
You the celebration.

Listen carefully…
Can you hear it still?

A song of possibility.
A reminder that we still have time to be who
and what we need to be.

Listen carefully …
The vast expanse echoes a recognition
that it’s not always easy.
Possibilities
can be hard to pursue.

Roads not taken, wrong turns,
destinations that disappoint.
Through this,
the song persists.
The universe sings no less because time and space wear us thin.

The music calls us


Sermon

We live in a city that holds music as a central part of its identity. Likewise, music is a core ministry of this church and, for many of us, a vital component of our individual spirituality.

I think we are so blessed by the amazing talent of our music director, Brent Baldwin and the many wonderful musicians he gathers here. One of Brent’s many talents that stands out for me is his incredible ability to produce such high quality music across such a wide variety of styles and genres.

And that to me is such wonderful aspect of our music here at the church. We get to experience and learn about styles of music that may be challenging for us but deeply moving for other folks in the church and visa versa, and because of that we get to discover harmonies between these different styles that we might never have otherwise imagined.

OK, I think I have probably embarrassed Brent enough with all of this high praise.

Anyway, this all got me exploring why music can stir our emotions and move our spirits so deeply – what makes it such a central part of all known human cultures?

As I began that exploration, I quickly started to realize that the definition of ritual I talked about in a sermon last month exactly describes what is going on with music. Like other forms of ritual, music is structured and patterned. It is rhythmic and repetitive. Perhaps even more so than other forms of ritual, music can synchronize our feelings, thoughts and body movements to create a powerful unifying experience. And finally, when we experience and create music together, we synchronize with each other, which can create a very strong sense of bonding.

So, music is a form of ritual. And perhaps even more so than other forms of ritual, we are discovering the powerful ways music can benefit us.

Children who learn to play a musical instrument at an early age (or take singing lessons as the voice is an instrument also), develop greater motor and cognitive skills. Adults who learn to sing or play an instrument also reap benefits. Their brains tend to remain much more adaptable, and there is early evidence that they may be less likely to develop dementia.

Music therapy has psychological benefits, including improvements in depression and anxiety disorders. It has been used to steady the heart rates of premature infants and adult cardiac patients. Music can have powerful healing effects for people who have experienced trauma.

One of the most amazing ways that music is being used is to help people with Parkinson’s, as well as Alzheimer’s, other forms of dementia and stroke victims. I want to show you part of a video that I think demonstrates this so movingly.

Naomi Feil works with elderly dementia patients to help them reconnect and develop a feeling of safety. In this video, she sings hymns to Gladys Wilson, who has Alzheimer’s and has been non-verbal since also suffering a stroke.

[“Song Crosses Boundaries” video]

Later in the full version of that video, Gladys also speaks and says that she feels safe and taken care of.

You may have noticed that Naomi moving with and holding Gladys, matching her rhythm and tempo to Gladys’ movements was an important element of being able to break through to her.

That demonstrates yet another important aspect of music. While its effects on us can happen from simply listening to it, many of music’s benefits increase even more if we participate in it in some way and some only if we participate – if we sing, dance, sway, clap, play an instrument, drum on the back of a pew!

This seems to be related to the fact that the parts of our brains that process musical rhythm and tempo are strongly connected with the parts of our brains that control motor skills.

In the PBS documentary, “The Music Instinct”, neuroscientist Stan Levitin who has performed brain-imagining scans as people listen to or make music, says that we process pitch, tempo, rhythm, and so on, the various elements of music, in different parts of our brain. So, he says that looking at brain scans of people listening to music is like seeing a symphony going on in the brain, because so many areas, so many neural pathways are involved.

When we participate in the music in some way, even more of the brain lights up on those scans. Even better, when we do so with other people, we also activate the areas of the brain associated with social behavior.

This may help explain why many cultures have no concept of simply listening to music alone. It is necessary to see the movements and gestures of the musicians, to the feel the vibrations and to physically move with them. Some cultures do not even have separate words for music and dance.

This connection between music and our motor skills has profound implications for helping people with certain physical disabilities.

Here is another video that powerfully demonstrates this. It is from the trailer for a documentary about a man with cerebral palsy who learns to dance, and in doing so, transforms his life.

[“Enter the Faun” video]

So, music and its associated movement can have these amazing influences on us as individuals. Even folks who are unable to move some areas of their body still seem to benefit from participating in and moving to music in whatever ways they can.

But the benefits we derive also go beyond us as individuals. Music also can strengthen our relationships and group social bonding. When we participate in music together several things happen.

1. We engage with one another in coordinated, cooperative behavior, often evoking strong emotion, greatly increasing group cohesion.

2. Our bodies produce an oxytocin boost, a neuropeptide that results in increased affection and bonding between us.

3. Music activates the part of our brain that helps us comprehend what others are thinking and feeling, increasing empathy toward one another.

4. Music increases cultural cohesion. Perhaps more so than any other form of ritual, it communicates belonging and passes down cultural memory through the generations. There’s a reason folks say things like “these are the songs of my people.”

I want to show you part of one more video, that I think wonderfully demonstrates how music binds us together. Simon McDermott’s dad, Ted, has Alzheimer’s and is often non-verbal and cannot remember his family members. However, Simon singing an old, familiar song with him brings Ted’s memory back, and for those moments, they reconnect and Simon gets his dad back.

[“Quando Quando Quando” video]

That video just makes me feel happy.

So why is music this powerful to us? What makes it so intrinsic to all know human cultures?

Well, that is the subject of much research and great debate in several fields of study, and the answer is we just do not yet know.

There is much research on what the origin of music might be, how it is related to language and whether or not it is innate. If we are born with certain musical capacities, it would indicate that music played an evolutionary role in our development and survival as a species.

The earliest known musical instruments are flutes that date from about 42,000 years ago. However, it is possible our making of music goes back even further and that there is just no archeological record of it remaining to be found. Our musical origins remain a mystery.

Likewise, whether our propensity for music conveyed some evolutionary advantage or is just a by-product of other capacities we developed as humans is also a subject of debate.

I ran across a couple of theories as to what potential evolutionary roles it might have played. One is that like a peacock strutting his feathers, musical ability would have made the male human more attractive to females. I’m personally not buying that one, as tone deafness would have been evolutionarily selected out by now, which it hasn’t. Witness the campaign staff and surrogates for a certain Presidential candidate.

The other theory is that the group social bonding music creates that I outlined earlier might have allowed for the formation of larger and larger groups, which could well have conveyed survival advantages.

The evidence for the innateness of our musicality is mixed. One the one hand, musical forms vary greatly across cultures and many of our musical preferences seem to be learned. However, there is also evidence that we may be born with at least some of our musical proclivities and capacities.

Newborn infants can detect a downbeat, relative pitch changes, tempo changes, musical intervals that are harmonious and the like, making it possible we are born with these capabilities (though infants could have heard music in the womb also).

Likewise, certain commonalities in music seem to exist across all cultures, which might also indicate they are innate. Lullabies are remarkably similar in all cultures for instance. All cultures use the octave interval, though they divide it very differently.

Villagers in a remote area of Cameroon who had no prior exposure to Western music and who’s own music was very different than that of ours, listened to three different pieces of Western European music – one that we would associate with feeling sad; one with feeling happy; and one with feeling afraid. When asked to identify the emotion evoked by each musical piece, the villager’s responses were exactly the same as Western Europeans, indicating there is something innate about our emotional response to certain characteristics of music.

So, we just do not yet have all the answers for why music seems so central to our very nature as humans, so here’s how I like to think about music.

Scientists and mathematicians will tell you that math can describe and predict all known phenomenon in the universe. And it’s not that we came up with an abstraction and applied it to our universe, it is that math seems intrinsic to all that exists and we are discovering the math as we learn more and more. Math is in a way the language of the universe.

Music, at its most basic level can also be described with math – its pitches, chords, intervals, beats, rhythms, notes and harmonies are all simply math at their core.

So I like to think of music as the universe finding its voice. And we, we are its instruments.

So sing even if you think you might not be able to hit all the right notes. Learn to play an instrument even if it’s just for fun and even if you don’t think you’re all that good at it.

Dance the dance the best you can.

Make music with those you love and those you might someday. You got the music in you, and you always will.

Amen.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

The final form of love, which is forgiveness

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 9, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

In Reinhold Niebuhr’s prayer, “We Must be Saved,” he talks about what makes us whole as we try to do right in the context of history. Rev. Meg explores the beautiful complexity of this poem.


Prayer

We Must be Saved 
by Reinhold Niebuhr

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime;
Therefore, we are saved by hope.

Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense
in any immediate context of history;
Therefore, we are saved by faith.

Nothing we do, however virtuous,
can be accomplished alone;
Therefore, we are saved by love.

No virtuous act is quite as virtuous
from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;
Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love
which is forgiveness.

Sermon

These are the Days of Awe, celebrated by those among us with Jewish roots. Rosh Hashanna was October 3 and 4, and Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. Yom Kippur starts Tuesday evening and ends Wednesday evening. Observance of this holiday includes fasting from sundown Tuesday until nightfall Wednesday. Repentance from wrongs you have done, asking for forgiveness from those you have wronged, and gratitude for being pardoned are at the heart of this holy day.

Last Sunday you heard Susan speak about Rosh Hashannah, about new beginnings. Today I would like to continue by talking about the story that is traditionally read right at the beginning of these “Days of Awe.” It is the story of Abram (later given the name Abraham)Sarai (later given the name Sarah) and Hagar. The story in the Bible, written and later edited by the Jews, has a different perspective and emphasis that the story in the Quran. You know that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (named in order of their appearance) are called the Abrahamic Religions, as they share the same stories of their history.

In the Bible, which contains the Jewish version of the story, Abram has had a vision where he was promised that his children would be as many as the stars in the night sky. Time passes and his wife Sarai does not conceive, so she arranges for her handmaiden, Hagar, to lie with her husband, and she will bear a child by him. As soon as Hagar knows she is pregnant, she begins to look upon Sarai with contempt. Sarai is hurt and angry, and begins to treat Hagar cruelly. Hagar runs away, and an angel finds her by a spring and tells her to go back and submit to her mistress, and her son will be the father of great nations. He will be a wild donkey of a man, the angel says (the Jews say the angel says, about the forbear of the Arab nations, and his hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand will be against him, and he will live in opposition to all his kinfolk. She goes back. The angel comes back to Abram and Sarai, and says they will have a child by the next year. He changes their names to Abraham and Sarah. After their child Isaac is born, Sarah is jealous of Ishmael, and makes Abraham send them out into the desert again. He sends them with a little skin of water, but it’s not enough, and they are near dying of thirst. They are both crying, and God hears them and shows her a well where she gets water. Ishmael grows up in the desert and becomes and expert archer.

In the Muslim version, Hagar is the daughter of an Egyptian king who has been given to Ibrahim as a second wife. She bears her son, Ismael, and Sarai is jealous. She makes Ibrahim take his second wife and child to a desert valley and leave them there, telling them God will care for them. They almost die of thirst, and Hagar runs back and forth between two hills looking for water. Finally God causes a spring to flow from the ground, and they are saved. Ruth Behar, and anthropologist and Jewish scholar, guesses that this terrible story was chosen to open the days of repentance and reconciliation because everyone in the story is at fault. Sarai was cruel and jealous, Hagar was unwise to treat her mistress, or the first wife with contempt, and Ibrahim was the miserable dad caught between two feuding family members. It is fitting that we see that each of us contributes in a way to whatever misery in which we find ourselves. There is almost always a way we could have done better, and it is good to see that before you ask for forgiveness.

You can see how different points of view spin a story in different ways. In the Muslim world, Hagar is an Egyptian princess, a godly woman of faith whose son was the father of the Adnan Arabs. Ibrahim was a faithful father who traveled between his two households, loving both sons and both wives. In the Jewish story she was an arrogant and unwise brat who trash-talked her mistress and gave birth to a wild donkey of a son. What can you expect from our distant cousins, these Arabs, who descend from a wild donkey of a man? His hand is always raised against others and the hand of others is always raised against him. How many of you have family members, at the level of first cousin or closer, who don’t speak because of a conflict? Do you think the stories each side tells about what happened are different?

What if Sarah had apologized for her cruelty? What if Hagar had apologized for her contempt? What if they could have done what was best for the family, for Isaac and Ismael? What might the rippling after-effects of such apologies have been? What would forgiveness in that family done for the world? Repentance and forgiveness are what this season is about for Judaism, which is one of the sources of our UU faith.

We have seen a Presidential candidate apologize recently. Once a couple of months ago, the kind of apology that is not an apology, where you say “If I did something that hurt some people, I’m sorry

An apology with “I’m sorry if….” in it is thin gruel, and will not nourish any relationship. The one Saturday morning was better. “I said it. I was wrong, and I apologize.” That’s more like it. You acknowledge what you did. You acknowledge that it was wrong. You apologize.” That’s a C- apology. It’s the one we most often give and get. “I was tired. I wasn’t myself. I was worried about some other thing and it came out sideways…” The non-interactive apology. There is no asking for forgiveness. There is no validation of the hurt that was caused. There is no deep understanding of the other’s point of view. A truly great apology involvesan understanding snf sn acknowledgment of of what happened. Not only in you but in the other person. It’s not too quick. A premature apology, where you say you’re sorry and that means the other person isn’t allowed to talk any more about their feelings about what happened, is unfair and controlling. A great apology leaves room for the hurt person to talk about what it was like for them to be hurt. It validates the hurt. There is deep listening. Patience. Vulnerability. It’s as simple as saying “I can really see how that hurt you.” Then it might be good to say more about that. See if you really do see, if you do understand. A great apology has a lot of listening in it. Then there is an ask – for forgiveness. Forgiveness also takes listening. Listening until you understand another person, how they could have done what they did. Deciding whether you still want to be in relationship, and under what conditions.

Listening is one of the most healing actions in the world. It is also, as I’ve said to you before, astonishingly rare. Deep listening, I’m convinced, can not only make a great apology, it can lead to forgiveness because it leads to understanding. Deep listening can transform lives, nourish souls, and bring justice. So many people suffer from not being seen or heard. Your family, your church, is a place where you can practice the healing art of listening and forgiveness.

You could practice nourishing souls and transforming lives this very afternoon if you wanted to make a listening appointment. Some people worry that, once they start listening, they will be sucked in to a three-hour commitment. Make a container. Set a timer. Get a spouse, a parent, a child, a friend, and say “Ok, you talk for 30 min and then I’ll talk for 30 min.” When the other person is talking, you get still (this is a complicated/simple spiritual practice) open your heart (also a practice) and be present to them in the moment (also….. you get it). You don’t think about what amazing question you are going to ask them. You don’t plan your self-defense, as you are feeling criminally misunderstood. You try to receive what is the heart of this matter. What is the feeling? Mad, sad, glad? There are lists of feelings online you can print out if you would like assistance in this. You listen with love. Ask yourself how this situation would be changed if you were held in the arms of love while you listened?

Sweethearts, when you can quiet the mad buzzing of the voices in your core, the energy attached to being right, the panic at being misunderstood, the urge to tell the story of when a similar thing happened to you, when you can sink the advice that bubbles up and needs to, has to come out, then you can get still enough to really listen. This is why listening is such a rare gift. To get to this place takes practice. A good way to live our mission is to listen. This is what can change people’s minds in politics. This is what can make a hostage-taker put down his guns and give himself up. Listening is what can bring the realization of common ground between protectors of the water and people in the oil business trying to deliver the energy that modern life in our culture demands. Our Chalice Circles, which you can begin to sign up for today, are a crucible in which you can learn to listen and be listened to. If you feel you need a trained listener, please let me know and I will connect you to one of the trained listeners in the congregation. Listening can heal the world.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

We begin again

Susan Yarbrough
October 2, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

The night of October 2nd marks the beginning of both the Jewish and Muslim New Year, a rare occurrence occuring only once every thirty-three years. Both of these faiths have something to teach us about new beginnings.


Prayer

God of many names, whose highest name and form is human love, the prayers of the people are gathered before you in the midst of a great cloud of witnesses as our joys and our concerns are made known.

Thank you for new beginnings, day by day and moment by moment. Thank you for the easily received gifts of love and joy and forgiveness, as well as for the painful teaching gifts of pain and resentment and separation. Thank you for this congregation and its ministry to this community and to each other. And thank you for all people of good intentions, good will, and good hearts, wherever they may be.

Kindly and gently remind us of your presence everywhere, and invite us to reach for you, to speak to you, and to listen for you, even though you are frustratingly and maddeningly mysterious to us. If you have hands, hold us in the palm of them. If you have a heart, keep us close to it. If you have tears, weep for us when we resist and move away from you. And if you have ears, hear us now as we thank you for the new beginning that is in every breath and every step.

Amen


Text of this sermon is not available. Click the play button to listen.

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Mom, He Started it!

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 25, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

The second UU principle is that we affirm and promote justice, equity and compassion in human relations. How can you get wise enough to balance justice and compassion?


Most of you know I have two sons, now in their twenties, and, although they are friends now, they bickered when they were young. My mission as a mother was to reach them to be useful citizens and good company. I asked myself “What happens in our culture when people fight? They get fined or jailed for disturbing the peace.” So we had jail (time out) and fines (losing money.) They didn’t have any money to lose, at first, but I fixed that by giving them a bag of nickels at the beginning of the week. When they would fight or whine, I would say “Please stop that. If you don’t, you’re each going to owe me a nickel.” Whatever money they had left at the end of the week, they could keep. Why did I fine both of them? “He started it” didn’t work because I didn’t have time to have court every time. Some kids can start something very subtly, and the less subtle one always gets in trouble. Sometimes if they were fighting over a toy, I would give the toy a time out for starting a fight. Fairness is a blurry and elusive goal.

This morning I’m talking about the second of our seven UU principles, We covenant to affirm and promote justice, equity and compassion in human relations.”

Our principles name the values we covenant together to affirm and promote. “Covenant” means to promise. By signing the membership book of this church you are promising to affirm, which means to say out loud that you agree with, and promote, which means to say it in public to people who might argue with you. The easy part is that most of our principles are so mildly stated and general that most people would say they agree with them. The harder part is actually walking the path they lay out for us on a daily, personal basis. The first principle we talked about was that we affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person. That one is hard for some folks who want to believe that some humans are worth less than others.

If you were to write this second principle for a child, you might say “We should be kind and things should be fair.” Justice is making things right and fair. You get what you deserve. Your actions have consequences. You open something, you close it. You pick something up, you have to put it back in its place. You dirty something, you clean it up again. You do the crime, you do the time. We covenant together to promote this value.

Equity is wanting justice for everybody equally. We agree that things should be right and fair for everyone. Male, female (or in between) should have the same rules; all shades of skin color, gay, straight (or in between,) Spanish speaking or Asian, moneyed or poor. Actions should have consequences. People shouldn’t get away with bad behavior. Some shouldn’t be able to dirty everything while others clean up. Our upcoming pledge drive is when we remind one another that the many shouldn’t count on a few people to keep this congregation financially strong and about to act out its mission more and more.

Often, though, someone else does help you: cleans up after you, gives you money, helps you more than you deserve. Sometimes your consequences are mitigated by someone understanding your circumstances. Someone makes the church part if their legacy so we get to have a justice fund and begin to provide breakfast tacos to the people who come to the first service. It’s often a wonderful thing when that happens.

Compassion adds some grace so that sometimes you give more than a person deserves. Or you can get more than you deserve. Why isn’t the world fairer, then? Why is there so much pain, hatred and misery? Often it’s because there is an imbalance among justice, equity and compassion.

How do we walk the path of justice, equity and compassion? You know I advocate adding the words “beginning in our homes and congregations” to the end of each principle, so lets talk about that.

I wrestle with this principle because, in my life, justice, equity and compassion fight with each other. Say I have a situation where someone has hurt me. Justice demands that the hurt be paid for somehow. Equity demands that if I hurt you, I have to pay too. The same rules apply to both of us. I would rather forgive you and have you forgive me. That’s where compassion comes in, I think. Should compassion overpower justice, though? Would it be a better world if we were sweet and understanding about where people are coming from when they create havoc and destruction? Can you be compassionate and still carry through with just punishment?

Here it is in the context of raising children. As I said at the beginning, I think a parent’s job is to prepare children to live in the world out there. In our culture we pay for things in money, labor and time. If one of my children made a mistake that costs me forty minutes, maybe driving something he forgot over to him at school, he owed me forty minutes of his time on some project where I have need. When they were small, if they didn’t obey by the time I counted to three, they owed me a nickel of their allowance. That feels like justice. On the other hand, I have compassion with the boy who made the mistake. I know I made mistakes like that. I understand not obeying. You get busy, you want to do what you want to do. I feel like that too, and I’m not the world’s most obedient person, so they came by that honestly. On the other hand, I know if my mom had made me pay for forgetting with time I might have learned at an earlier age to be more organized. If I allowed my children to ignore me when they were small, they would not have had as much chance to grow up into people I want to spend time with. Too much compassion, too much understanding of how someone got to where they were doing things wrong — it makes you weak on justice. That deprives the person who is behaving incorrectly of the consequences that lead to learning, and that’s mean to everyone else. There has to be a balance between steel-cold justice and mushy-gushy compassion. The Buddhist teachers talk about “idiot compassion,” a term attributed to Trungpa Rinpoche. Pema Chodron expands on this, writing “It is the general tendency to give people what they want because you can’t bear to see them suffering….” You’re doing it for yourself, to avoid discomfort.

To our urge for justice, we might quote Mahatma Ghandi, “If we choose an eye for an eye, we will all soon be blind.” To our rush of compassion, we quote Malcolm X, “We sometimes must kill the one who is evil in order to save the many who are innocent.” My father used to quote what he claimed was a Chinese proverb: “Mercy to the tiger is cruelty to the lamb.”

We wrestle with this in our church community on a small scale in our relations with one another. If one of us behaves inappropriately, how much do we have compassion and say “Well, I know that person, and I know why she is acting obnoxious or why he is hard to talk to or why this one has bad manners or no tact or why that one can’t shut up.” Knowing the person, knowing why, that helps us have compassion. On the other hand, it makes the person never get confronted with bad behavior. That, in turn, makes it hard on the people around them. In fact, I think a belief in another’s worth and dignity makes it important for me not to dismiss that person or give up on them. We shouldn’t give in to a temptation to say, “Don’t bother with them, they can’t change..” “Love” is the one word some use to sum up this principle. Love includes compassion, and it also includes justice. When you love, you want the person to be better. You want them to face themselves. You want to challenge them, to say your piece, you want to encourage them to remember their community. Of course, that kind of challenge has to be done rarely, with fear and trembling, only after you have looked at yourself, faced yourself, and done your best to ensure that your behavior and attitudes are correct.

The Covenant of Healthy Relations you all voted on seeks to flesh this out, it presents what this might look like. You can find it on a big rolling board in the fellowship hall.

“Justice, equity and compassion.” If it feels too vague, as you walk this UU spiritual path, make it more specific. “Justice, equity and compassion.” At the grocery store. “Justice, equity and compassion.” At the gym. “Justice, equity and compassion.” At work. “Justice, equity and compassion.” In our living rooms. It’s really difficult. Let’s see if we can aspire to it. Some justice was moved forward yesterday as the National Museum of African American History and Culture. Sometimes justice involves the experience of finally being heard and seen, finally having your story told. Bells rang out across the nation, echoing the bell from the First Baptist Church of Williamsburg, VA. You have downloaded bell sounds, so let’s celebrate that moment here in Austin with the ringing of our own bells.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Abandon hope and fear

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 18, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

The first strand of the Buddhist eight-fold path is “Right Understanding.” Do you understand how things work? What causes suffering? What is the way to be happy?


Sermon

I see a lot of articles on how to be happy? They have titles like “7 steps to happiness” and “5 things we do to keep ourselves from being happy.” Most people want to be happy. We’ve all felt it. It tends to disappear, though, when our bank account shrinks to nothing, or our shoulder hurts, it shrinks when people we love are in trouble, or when we’re anxious or outraged or suffering.

On the front of your order of service is a photo of a path. The reason for this is that, today, we’re going to start talking a one of the oldest “8 part path to happiness,” which is at the center of Buddhism.

Buddhism is a religion that came up out of Hinduism. A Hindu prince had been sheltered from the world. Not just from the world, but from religion. His mother had died when he was a baby, and a holy man had prophesied that the boy would grow up to be a great general, a king, or a holy man. His father decided to eliminate the holy man option by raising the boy in a palace built just for him. When he was 16 he was given a beautiful wife, and they had a family. When he was in his late 20’s, though, the prince wanted to venture out. On the road, he saw an old man. “What is the matter with him?”

“He is old,” answered the charioteer. “that happens to everyone.”

On subsequent ventures out, he saw a sick person, a dead body and an ascetic. His charioteer explained to him that people get diseases. They get old, they (and by they, I mean we) die.

In growing Despair and horror at the realities of suffering and death, grieving at the thought of losing his mother, his father, his wife and children to these terrible ravages of living in mortal flesh, he decided to go follow the ascetic path. He was so committed to this path, enduring pain, starving himself until his belly button touched his spinal cord, never achieving satisfaction, but always wanting to go farther to find wisdom. Five other Ascetics who were so admiring of his dedication that they became his followers. After years of this, the Buddha realized these holiness practices weren’t going to get him to wisdom and peace. He accepted a bowl of rice from a little girl, took a bath in the river and sat down under a tree. His disciples were shocked, and left him. sat down to meditate. He realized that none of the ascetic practices he had been following we’re going to work. He vowed that he would stay meditating under the tree until he reached Enlightenment period all night and evil demon, Mara the demon of Illusion tempted him with food, beautiful women, power, all the normal people just moved into Nirvana when they reached Enlightenment, things that men are tempted with. Enlightenment was his. Normally but the king of Gods himself Brahma asked the Buddha to stay and teach. He agreed. Now he was hesitant to teach, but the simple truths that had come to him while he was sitting under the tree wood rescue human beings from suffering and unhappiness. He walked to the river where some holy men were sitting, among them the Five Guys who had abandoned the Buddha when he took rice from a little girl.

He preached the truth that had come to him as he sat under the tree for several days and nights

1. Life is out of joint.
2. This suffering, this out of place-ness is caused by desire.
3 if you stop craving/desire, you’ll be happy
4. The way to stop craving is the 8 fold path.

This is the first of eight sermons, over the upcoming months, on the eightfold path of Buddhism. The Eightfold Path is not like eight steps, or little boxes you check off one by one as you accomplish them. It is a path of eight elements interwoven, braided together, having to do with understanding, practice and behavior that Buddhism says will take you on a journey away from suffering and toward freedom. The first component of the path is “Right Understanding.” “Getting it” is the first and continuing job of the person on this path. You get stuck by the temporary nature of good health, by the sudden lightning strike of tragedy and trouble. A friend gets killed in a car accident. You have a heart attack. A piano falls on your head. Suddenly the assurance of ongoingness is gone. Suddenly security looks like a laughable illusion. Your ideas of how things work are upended. Or you catch a glimpse of the truth of how things do work. You have a glimmer of a sense that many people create their own suffering, that disquietude lurks at the corners of most lives, that grief, hope, fear, hunger for security or pleasure or acceptance drive people to do what they do and that satisfaction is elusive. A deeper reality crooks its finger at you and whispers ( if you’re old enough to remember the deeply Buddhist movie “The Matrix) it whispers in Laurence Fishburn’s voice: “Wake up. There must be satisfaction somewhere, let’s go look for it. “

One of the things I find most relaxing about Buddhism is that it doesn’t ask you to take any of this on faith. It asks you to try it out and see if it works for you. Buddhism asks you to start with your experience. Most people’s attention is squandered on the anxiety, all the worry, and the fear in their lives. What will happen to us? Am I doing this right? Will people have a good time at my party? Will I get well again? Will I end up a bag lady? Will I find love? Moment after moment, for most people, is filled with hope that things will go well and fear that things won’t. That life is a roller coaster. In the words of the poet John Prine “Some times you’re up, some times you’re down, it’s a half an inch of water and you think you’re going to drown.”

Things happen to you, then you make stories about the things that happen: that they shouldn’t be happening, that they are a punishment for something you did, that your life is unfair, that you are unlucky and unblessed. Buddhism says all of these thoughts about what happens, all of the roller coaster emotion caused by hoping and fearing makes you suffer. There is a way to end the suffering. In your life, you will have pain, but you don’t have to make yourself extra suffering over the pain. The eightfold path, with its eight elements, is the way to train yourself morality, mentally and emotionally, to be free from suffering from the thoughts you have about what happens. Here are the eight elements: right understanding, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.

Right understanding, the first strand of the Eightfold Path, “getting it, ” involves seeing how things are. You understand that you suffer because you have attachments to how things should go. You crave, you cling, you hope, you fear.

You have hopes that an interview will go well. You are anxious about it. You worry afterward about whether they liked you. If you get the job you worry about doing it well. If you don’t get the job you wonder why they didn’t like you. You have ideas about how it should go. You have interpretations of how it went, ideas from your interpretations, and you suffer over those.

Someone you love is drinking or using again. You worry about how bad it’s going to get. You feel the feelings from when it was at its worst. You interpret your friend’s using as his not loving you, because if he loved you he would want things to be good for you, and things aren’t good for you when he is using. It feels as though he is doing it to you.

In your thoughts is a way you wish things would go. You have fears about how things could be. All of these things, hopes and fears, cause you suffering. When you are anxious about these things you miss a lot of your life: seeing your other friends, you can barely hear what people are saying to you, you don’t enjoy your food, sleep, sex, beauty, things seem garbled and dim. You are suffering. How could that stop?

Wake up. “Get it” that if you calm and focus your mind you can see reality more clearly. “Get it” that what happens happens. There are certain things you can do to make the interview go well, and you do them. Or not. Then it happens. You get the job. Or not. You can interpret it any way you want to. They didn’t like you?

Maybe. Maybe they had someone else who was a better fit. Maybe this is not your job, maybe yours is coming. If the job wouldn’t have been a good fit for you, you would have been miserable in it. Is that what you wanted?

In meditation we have the chance of seeing the story we are telling ourselves about our life. You can notice the thoughts you are having about what is happening in your life. There are a hundred different stories, and seeing your story is part of getting it. Another part of Right Understanding, of waking up, is understanding the law of Karma. Its literal name is “right view of the ownership of action” The Buddhist teachers say: “Beings are the owners of their actions, the heirs of their actions; they spring from their actions, are bound to their actions, and are supported by their actions. Whatever deeds they do, good or bad, of those they shall be heirs.” The Buddhist scriptures, like the Christian scriptures, talk about results of actions as “fruits.” “By their fruits ye shall know them.” If our lives are like a river, it’s as if we are all living downstream from our actions, and the dirty or clean water that runs because of those actions catches us later.

Good actions are morally commendable, helpful to the growth of the spirit, and productive of benefits for yourself and others. Unwholesome actions, to use a more Buddhist word than “bad,” ripen into suffering.

Getting it means that you see that suffering occurs from craving, desire and attachment, that the way to end suffering is to end craving and attachment, that the way to end craving is to attend to the eightfold path of right wisdom and right behavior. To own your actions, your part in any situation, to let go of blaming and clean up what you are putting into the water upstream from where you live.

I have a friend who tells the story of her mother-in-law, Carolyn, at the drive-through window at the bank. The teller had sent out a pen for her to use in filling out her deposit slip. She had dropped the pen, which had fallen underneath the seat of the car. Carolyn could reach the pen, she could get her fingers around it, but she couldn’t pull her hand out with the pen in it. Finally they made a present to her of the pen so she would go on.

We are caught like that with our grasping, unable to be free. What is the pen under your seat? What is keeping you from moving? Do you need to let it go? Do you need to drive to a safe place in the parking lot of the bank, get out of the car, move the seat, and get the pen? Either way, you get unstuck, and unstuck is where we want to be. Oh, and happy. We want to be happy.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Ritual and Remembrance

Rev. Chris Jimmerson
September 11, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Fifteen years after the attack of September 11, what are the ways we remember those whom we lost? How does ritual help us make sense of the events of our lives?


Call to Worship

We enter, now, into this place of renewal.
We join together, now, in this community that sustains and upholds.
We imagine, now, a world with more compassion, more justice, more love.
We worship, now, that which is greater than us,
and that holds our aspirations, our fortitude, our faith, our hope.
Now, we enter into this shared spirit of gratitude and community.
Now, we worship, together.

Sermon: Ritual and Remembrance: the 15th Anniversary of 9/11

On this day 15 years ago, it was a week day morning, and I was on my way to work when I turned on the radio in my car. I listened as a shell-shocked reporter described how apparent attackers had flown a jetliner first into the North Tower of the World Trade Center, and then about 15 minutes later had flown a second jet in to the South tower.

My initial response was disbelief. My mind went immediately to the 1938 radio drama called “War of the Worlds” that had presented a fictional alien invasion as a live news report, leading to some people panicking in areas throughout the country because they believed it was really happening.

I thought what I was hearing must be like that – a fiction being presented as reality. My brain just could not accept that it could really be happening.

And then I changed the radio station. And then I changed it again. It was on every station. It was real.

Instead of continuing on to work, I went back home and told Wayne that we needed to turn on the television news. The country was under attack.

We watched in horror and disbelief as the gaping holes in the towers burned, and they played endless repeats of the video of that plane turning and crashing into the South tower. We watched as the reports began to come in that hijackers had crashed another plane into the Pentagon. We witnessed first the South tower collapsing and then the North tower, learning in between that another plane, United Flight 93, had crashed into a field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania.

My memories of that morning are hazy and jumbled. I had to look up the sequence of events to make sure my memories of them were not distorted.

One clear and painful memory that stands out for me though, is that at some point before the towers fell, I had left the room. I don’t remember why. I just remember walking back into the living room and hearing Wayne say, “Oh my God, they’re jumping out of the windows to avoid being burned to death.” I looked at the television and saw images that fill me with horror and grief even today.

These are extraordinarily painful memories. It is so easy for me to want to avoid them. To lock them away in some distant room in the far reaches of my mind. And indeed, I suspect they are too powerful to carry with us in our consciousness all of the time. But I do think it is important that we remember sometimes – that we glance back into that room and retrieve some of what that day was like.

I think we must remember those whose who died, as well as those who grieve them each year, especially on this day – that we remember the horror and the grief and the anger and the confusion and the fear and the subsequent ways in which those feelings were sometimes used to manipulate us in the days that followed 9/11.

We remember because embedded in that day and in the ways we as a society, as a culture, reacted to it are lessons to be learned; illuminations of our values and ideals both healthy and good and some that are destructive; stories about who we are as a people that we continue to tell ourselves even today.

And to do so, that we commemorate. We engage in ritualized remembrances.

This morning, across our country in sanctuaries not so different than this one, n1any of our fellow citizens are also remembering 9/11 through whatever are the rites and rituals of their own faith traditions.

Today, in cites across our country and indeed the world, people are commemorating 9/11 by engaging in secular rituals. In Manhattan, two four mile high rectangular towers of light powered by 88 7,OOO-watt xenon light bulbs will recall the Twin Towers, as the names of those who died in the attacks are read aloud.

In Austin, City Firefighters are remembering the first responders who died on 911 by climbing the Pleasant Valley Drill Tower in full fire fighting gear enough times to equal to what had been the height of the world trade center towers. It is a ritual they do each year in complete silence.

Through these rites and rituals, we reach back into that room where we’ve stored the memories from that day 15 years ago and retrieve them, and it matters – it matters that we do so through such ritual.

When I dove into reading about what we know about ritual, I found quite a bit of scientific research and a number of theories about our propensity to engage in ritual. It has been studied across a wide range of disciplines from neurology to anthropology What I share today will be broad by necessity, getting at what seems to common among these theories about human rituals.

Here’s a definition of ritual developed by two neuroscientists that I really liked. “Ritual is a sequence of behavior that
1. is structured or patterned
2. is rhythmic and repetitive
3. acts to synchronize emotion, perception, cognitions and physical movement to potentially generate powerful unifying experiences and
4. synchronizes these processes among individual participants when in a group setting, creating a strong sense of group unity.”

Ritual has been observed across all known cultures and across both religious and secular institutions. We can see rituals play out in families, schools, workplaces, governments, sports and the military for example.

We find this patterned, repetitive, synchronization in storytelling, drama, music, dance and many of the other arts.

We engage in ritualistic behavior both on our own as individuals, as well as in group settings.

It seems to be embedded in our very genetic structure. Anthropologists have found evidence of ritualized behavior from even before language developed. It even may have been the source of more complex culture and communication.

Even very young children will automatically copy ritual. I’ve seen this several times at the “We Gather” Saturday services we do here at the church once a month. For those services, we put out a carpet and coloring materials so that children can stay with us for the whole service.

They will be coloring away, seemingly oblivious to the goings of the adults, until we start to chant or sing or do some other form of ritual. Then, they will look up and join in right away. We have had some pretty wonderful dance performances spontaneously added to our hymn singing a couple of times.

So ritual seems to be intrinsic to our nature as human beings, and we are developing greater understanding of how it may influence us both on the individual level and in groups.

On the individual level, studies mostly focusing on ritualistic meditation and prayer have found that these practices have a beneficial influence on human psychology, helping us create better coping strategies. They can reduce depression and anxiety and improve mood. They can also reduce blood pressure and heart rate, while improving the functioning of our immune systems.

Some rituals seem to turn off the part of the brain that gives us our sense of time and place, which can lead what our neuroscientists called the experience of “absolute unitary being” – that our deepest most true inner self is identical to the ultimate reality of the universe. Sounds a lot like “there is a spark of the divine within each of us,” doesn’t it?

This experience, in turn, seems to lead to greater valuing of peaceful cooperation and has even resulted in a reduction of implicit bias regarding race and age.

Ritual has also been shown to help with cognitive and memory improvements, and these all of findings are being put to use helping people.

Theresa Klein is an occupational therapist who works with people with dementia at an assisted living facility. Her own grandfather developed progressive dementia, He became disconnected and mute most of the time. He was a devout Catholic though, and she noticed that when she took him to church on Sunday, he happily joined in the familiar prayers and hymns AND that he was more able to connect with her during these rituals.

So, she brought the option to participate in rituals into the assisted living setting to powerful effect. One resident, an 82 year-old woman named Martha, had seemed so catatonic that her daughter who visited her every day had reluctantly agreed to allowing Martha to go on hospice care.

Then, they tried offering Martha the chance to participate in some rituals from her religious tradition. She suddenly sat up and joined in. As they did this more and more over the days and weeks that followed, she even looked at her daughter and said, “I love you” several times. Through ritual, a mother and her daughter were given more time to experience real connection with one another.

And that brings us to the role that rituals seem to play when we do them together in a group. First, they seem to create that sense of connection within the group. They bind people together. In smaller groups, rituals that involve fear or even pain can cause participants to very strongly fuse their personal identity with that of the group. This might have had a survival advantage in early tribal societies by creating strong cooperation and making them better able to wage war against competing tribes.

Conversely, regularly repeated rituals that have less negative emotional content can bond much larger groups together but less intensely and around a common doctrine or belief system. More recently, research has found that these differences between ritual settings are probably a matter of degree rather than absolutes.

At the group level, rituals are also a way we pass on social memory. Through ritual, we are embedding memories in a way that, for instance just reading about the events of 9/11 does not. We are getting at the essence of the story, creating and retrieving the common social values and norms, emotions and embodied experience, and we are creating a mechanism, a technology, that allows us to transmit these social memories to the next generations.

So, our 9/11 commemorations, our vigils and memorial services these are how people in a culture remember in a whole bodied, visceral way – a way of collectively saying “we remember you” to those we have lost. And even after all of us who experienced 9/11 are no longer living, these rites and rituals are ways that future generations may also say, “We remember you. We carry you with us.”

Almost all of our practices here on Sunday can be thought of as ritualistic. Our order of our service repeats itself in much the same way each week. We recite many of the same words together. We sing together. We listen to music together. We have a story for all ages together. We have a time of centering or prayer together. We light candles in our window together.

Particularly when I am leading worship, that is one of our most powerful rituals for me. I watch as people from this religious community that I serve and that I love light their candles in our window, and I imagine the powerful experiences and emotions they are holding up, and I can feel in a very visceral way that which binds this religious community together and moves out into our larger world to do justice. It is always powerful and moving.

Powerful too are our rites of passage that mark life’s transitions – our baby parades and coming of age ceremonies, weddings, memorial services and the like – our ceremonies that mark the changing of the seasons – the water communion, Christmas Eve, the burning bowl service, the flower communion.

And much of all of this has been passed down to us through social memory – from the Unitarians and Universalists who came before us.

It is important to note here that as vital as our ritual traditions are, the words that go with them, the stories that we tell ourselves, the theologies we express during our rituals matter greatly too. If these are directed inward, then the rituals by which they are expressed will create bonding within the group that is in opposition to any who are not a part of the group. We can see this with some of the more fundamentalist religions and certain highly white-nationalistic political rallies as of late.

Likewise, if the theologies we express within our rituals are directed toward all of humanity or even all of creation, the web of all existence, then the sense of interconnectedness they will generate also tends to occur both within the group and on a more universal scale.

So on this, the 15th anniversary of 9/11, I want to close by inviting you to join me in a ritual of commemoration. Please rise in body or spirit and extend your palms opened upward in a gesture of openness. I will say a few words of remembrance of several groups of folks, ending each time with the word, “today”. At which point, we will place our hands over our hearts and say together, “We remember” and return our hands to the palms held upward position.

To the Universalists and the Unitarians and then the Unitarian Universalists who have handed down to us this religious tradition that sustains and upholds us, particularly on days filled with difficult memories such as this one, today, we remember.

To our ancestors in this church, who created built, maintained and expanded it so that we are now able to continue this religious community that we love, today, we remember.

In this, our beloved church, we pause this day to look back into that sacred room at the edge of our consciousness, and today, We remember.

To the people who responded on 9/11 by going to the aide of those at the world trade center and the pentagon, some of whom lost their own lives and others who still suffer disabling health effects even now, today, we remember.

To those who attempted to retake flight 93 so that it could not reach whatever might have been the hijackers intended target, today, We remember.

To the families and loved ones of all who died in the attacks, today, we remember.

To all those who died when flight 93 crashed into that field in Pennsylvania, to those died at the Pentagon, to those who died at the world trade center, today, we remember.

For humankind, for future generations, for our world, always and today, we remember.

Amen.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Honoring Norman Martin

Robert Janett and Wendy Janett
July 23, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org


Norman, we love you and we are all going to miss you. Your life should be an example for all of us. Enjoy the present, embrace your family and friends, sing, be prepared to go to war against tyranny, rail at the prejudice and the geo-political injustices in the world, think big thoughts, be generous, and eat a lot of ice cream.


Norman Martin

Norman Martin January 16, 1924 – July 13, 2016

About Norman

Norman Martin was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1924, where he attended primary and high school. As a teenager, just for fun, he taught himself Dutch, first by reading children’s books from the public library and later, upon invitation of the Dutch Consul in Chicago, by attending parties with native speakers to learn the proper pronunciation. At the time, of course, he had no idea where this rather obscure language skill would lead him in the future.

At age 16, he entered the Central YMCA College in Chicago and the next year the University of Chicago, both on full academic scholarships. In 1943, he enlisted in the Army and fought in Normandy, Belgium and Germany and was severely injured. He was discharged in 1945, a decorated war veteran, after the end of the war.

After returning to the US, Norman obtained his Master’s degree in philosophy at the University of Chicago. In 1949, he was awarded a Fulbright scholarship to study mathematical logic at the University of Amsterdam, in the Netherlands. While there he met Emilia, a Dutch mathematics student, in July 1950. Emilia was seeking information regarding study in the US, and she initiated their first meeting on the advice of a mutual friend. Norman was immediately and permanently smitten with her, and they were married forty days later. In September he moved to Urbana, IL, to begin a teaching position at the University of Illinois. The following month his bride followed, and the couple happily settled into their new life together.

In the spring of 1951, Norman received an opportunity to teach at UCLA while finishing his PhD dissertation in logic. The couple said goodbye to his family in Chicago and undertook the long but beautiful train trip to California. They made many friends and Norman successfully obtained his degree. But after two years when his appointment ended, he found himself in need of a new job. One Sunday, while reading the newspaper, he noticed a very improbable want ad for a logician at the research lab of the University of Michigan in Ypsilanti. Soon after applying he was offered the position, and he flew to Ann Arbor while Emilia temporarily stayed behind to finish her degree in mathematics. While in Michigan he learned all that was known about computers, which at the time was very little. After they reunited in Ann Arbor, the couple’s first daughter, Gabrielle, was born.

Norman was invited to join Space Technology Labs in Los Angeles in 1955, and he commenced an eminent career in computer architecture for the aerospace industry, designing computers for the nascent US space program, ICBMs, and other applications. He helped found Logicon, a computer, aerospace and defense contracting company, with several colleagues in 1961, as the computer era dawned. Logicon was an extremely successful enterprise, and it was ultimately acquired by Northrup Grumman several decades later. Norman and Emilia’s second daughter, Wendy, was born while the family lived in southern California.

In 1965, Norman decided to leave his work in industry and accepted a professor ship in the Departments of Philosophy and Computer Sciences at the University of Texas in Austin.After a distinguished academic career there, he retired in 1990 and was appointed Professor Emeritus of Philosophy and Computer Science.

Norman is survived by his wife of 66 years, Emilia, his daughters, Gabrielle Block and her husband Alan Block, and Wendy Janett and her husband Robert Janett, his grandchildren Naomi Salamon, David Janett, Hannah Block and Ethan Block, and his great-grandchildren, Anna and Noah Salamon.


Eulogy for Norman Martin, part 1
Robert Janett (son-in-law)
July 23, 2016

I took a lot of notes here. It reminds me of the story of the doctor giving a eulogy. He hand wrote his talk and when the time came to speak he couldn’t read his own handwriting. “Is there a pharmacist in the house?…”

Seriously, though. I can promise that I wrote this eulogy. It was not copied from anyone else’s eulogy.

It feels comforting to be back in this sanctuary, in this church in which Emilia and Norman have been members for fifty years. They helped build this sanctuary, so this space is very special to the family and is a fitting venue for today’s memorial service.

Who better to spend time with at the end of life, contemplating the meaning of life and death, than a philosopher. Norman Martin was an extraordinary man, a very complex man, brilliant, generous, a man who was gifted in so many ways. Philosopher, mathematician, logician, computer science pioneer, rocket scientist, entrepreneur. He lived a long a full life. Normally we define genius is an average student with a Jewish mother. And Norman did have a Jewish mother. But he was a true genius. We celebrate his life today even as we mourn his death.

I want to tell you a story about Norman’s life that starts with recent events, takes us back 72 years, and then returns us to the present.

The past few months were not easy. My father-in-law was on a revolving door in and out of the hospital and each time he was in the hospital he got noticeably weaker. His final hospitalization told us why. It turned out that he was harboring a chronic form of leukemia. It was not diagnosed until it caused a very severe and life threatening anemia. He was treated gently but aggressively until they could give him a drug to knock down some of the leukemia cells and thereby stabilize the anemia. So he was in the hospital for a week and a half. Wendy and I came to Texas during the crisis, followed soon by Gabby. We wanted to spend time with him because we knew the situation was grave and we didn’t know if we’d get another chance. As it turned out, it was our last visit with him. But we were able to help coordinate a transfer back to the Arbour, a nursing facility at their Westminster life care community, where he received loving attention from the staff and where it was much easier for Emilia to visit him. She could travel by elevator, because his Arbour bed was 3 stories below his independent living apartment.

In the quiet evening hours at the hospital, when everyone else had gone home, he and I spent hours in deep conversation. As some of you know, I am a primary care doctor and quite often I sadly find myself in conversations with patients facing serious illness and difficult decisions. These discussions often revolve around care choices at the end of life. But as a doctor, I have limited time with these patients. It is unusual to have the luxury of time to talk with someone for an hour without interruption. So it was a rare privilege to spend hours on end day after day, in deep conversation with my father in law-a brilliant man who always enjoyed reflecting on profound issues-talking about the big questions in life and of life’s end. On the first evening, he asked me to tell him his prognosis. Sadly, I got it right this time and estimated that he had weeks to months to live-and it turned out to be weeks, not months. He shrugged his shoulders and said that he wanted to make the most of it.

I feel like I learned more about him in the last week that we spent together than I learned in the previous 40 years. A deeply caring man, he was mainly concerned about the impact of his illness on Emilia, on Gabby & Wendy, on the staff that was caring for him. He didn’t want to be a burden. That was his biggest worry. He was not afraid of death and was pleased that he lived an accomplished and prosperous life. He considered himself one of the lucky ones. This seemingly mild mannered man, this consummate nerd, this egghead intellectual, was also a warrior.

He claimed without irony to have won the Cold War. A real honest to goodness rocket scientist, he had important roles in the design and development of the computer guidance systems of Atlas, Titan, and Minuteman intercontinental ballistic missiles when he worked as senior staff at the Space Technology Laboratories in Pasadena, California. I remember when I first saw Wendy’s birth certificate from Santa Monica. Under father’s field of work it said “guided missiles”.

He spent his last few weeks reminiscing-reviewing some of the key moments in his life. His mind kept returning to his World War II experiences. His experiences in Normandy seemed to dominate his memory and the story.

In those late night chats, he found himself wishing he was 20 again, until he realized that when he was 20 he was lying in a field near Cherbourg, France, gravely wounded. He couldn’t swim and yet he volunteered for the army and landed on Utah Beach on D Day. He was a 145 pound infantryman, an assistant forward artillery observer. That part of France consists of fields bordered by earthen fences knee to waist high with hedges and trees growing on top. What the French call bocage. His job was to stand on top of these earthen berms to look beyond the hedges to see where the enemy was and to direct fire from the allied cannons and mortars. It was up on that hedgerow that he was most exposed and it was near there that he was hit by mortar fire-grievously wounded in the chest and shoulder by shrapnel. He kept recalling how it actually felt to be laying there watching him bleed his life’s blood. He had come to Europe to fight the Nazi’s and he thought to himself, “So this is how it ends.” It was a miracle that he didn’t die on the field between the hedgerows in France. He told me about being found by a chaplain who called a medic to help him; about treatment in a field hospital and then the painful transport down to the sea and across the channel to England for surgical care. As it turns out, Norman died on the day after the 72st anniversary of that fateful event in Normandy.

They offered to send him home after he recovered, but he declined. It was his strong sense of duty, his personal ethics and integrity-because he saw soldiers more seriously injured than him return to battle, and soldiers less seriously injured return home. So they sent him back to France to continue to fight the battles in Europe. Battle of the Bulge nearly did him in with that winter’s bitter cold. His wounded arm became paralyzed and he could no longer fight with the infantry. The Psychological Warfare Division of Supreme Army Headquarters took note of his ability to speak fluent German and tasked him to be an investigator in the Intelligence Section.

He was on an advance team that was assigned to enter Munich as soon as it was captured. His small unit followed just behind the battle front as it advanced through Germany, getting ready to begin their mission in Bavaria. It was on that route from Luxembourg to Munich that they became some of the early liberators of the Dachau concentration camp. He carried into old age nightmare memories of what they saw at Dachau. Along with less traumatic memories of searching out German documents in Bavaria, where he discovered the complete archives of the Nazi party of the region in the dungeon of Eichstadt castle, acting on a tip from a German girl with whom he was illicitly flirting.

The intervening time, from 20 to 92, was a gift. And during those late night conversation he marveled at the miracle of his survival in Normandy, and about all the good things that subsequently came to him in life. His love for Emilia and their long marriage. The pride that he took in his children and his love for them. Scientific and academic accomplishments. The seminal part that he played in the development of radar and guidance systems. His company, Logicon, that he started with a few buddies and is now the IT Department of Northrup Grumman. The countless students he taught and guided over the years as a professor at University of Texas. His knighthood from France as a Chevalier de la Legion d’Honneur.

His personal and professional accomplishments were astounding…

He was generous to a fault and freely gave gifts to many people. We also enjoyed giving him gifts. The watch with irrational numbers on its face (the Einstein watch). I remember meeting with the Ecuadorean general who ran the military health system. On his office wall was a poster of all of the Ecuadorean military insignias. I knew that he would love that poster and the general took it down from his wall and gave it to me to bring to Norman. It is still hanging on his office wall. I think that one of the best gifts we ever found for him was a baseball cap that said “As a matter of fact, I am a rocket scientist.”

One of my fondest memories is from time we spent together in Colorado. Norman and Emilia decided to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary by bringing the extended family to Estes Park. We stayed in cabins and took advantage of the proximity to Rocky Mountain National Park to have fun in nature. Now Norman was not an outdoorsy kind of guy. One day the large family gathering split up into smaller groups to take walks or hikes, each to his or her ability. Emilia, Norman, and I took an easy walk through the woods on a relatively flat trail. While walking, he explained to me non-stop, for about two hours, minute details of the history of political parties in Argentina and Uruguay. It was not unusual for him to expound at length on such esoteric topics, as those of you who spent time with him know all too well. And I have been a ready listener to these sagas for forty years.

Well, we were so focused on his stories that we failed to follow the map. And we became a little disoriented in the woods. Not quite lost, because we knew that the road was to our right and down-hill. So we chose a short down-hill trail to the road. It turned out to be an extremely steep old stream bed full of loose rocks. Emilia was sturdy and was generally able to negotiate this rough and dangerous trail without much help. But Norman needed assistance the whole way down. Arm in arm, we picked our way from foot hold to foot hold. I was sure that we were going to end up with four broken hips before we got to the road. At least one of them might well have been mine! But we made it back with happy memories. Another survival story.

That family reunion was so great. A picture of the group hangs today over Emilia’s desk. And I was looking at it this morning. We all looked really good, not just the kids (who still look good today!)

Emilia deserves credit for sustaining him for all of these years, taking care of his every need. I am sure that her loving dedication gave him several extra years of life-because she relentlessly insisted that he get up out of the chair and walk. He hated exercise, but if he was going to get to the dining room for some of the marvelous Westminster food he had to walk there. No matter how long it took. And that walking kept him vigorous.

Norman delighted in strong flavors and he enjoyed spicy ethnic foods from exotic countries. But he hated his vegetables. At the end, he couldn’t really eat because he was too sick. He despised the bland pureed or ground food they were giving him in the hospital. He just couldn’t bring himself to eat it. But leukemia means never having to eat your vegetables, and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the various flavors of ice cream shakes that we brought to him 3 or 4 times per day for the next few weeks. They were his only source of nutrition, but they did the trick.

Special thanks are due to his medical and nursing team, especially his oncologist, Dr. Cline, who managed to halt the hemolytic process with gentle interventions. This gave him more quality time for several extra weeks of life, and gave us the extra precious time that we had with him. He didn’t suffer. He used those weeks well, singing songs, being read to by family, watching TV and railing at the geo-political news on TV, engaging in lively discussions with all of us, at his usual high intellectual level. David Newton was a frequent visitor and was his usual entertaining self, keeping Norman engaged in erudite conversation and laughter. Norman was holding court with friends from is room in the Arbour at Westminster even on the last weekend of his life. He knew and we knew that his time was severely limited. But that didn’t stop him from experiencing joy at the end of life. And we can all take comfort in that, both for him and for ourselves.

Norman, I love you and we are all going to miss you. Your life should be an example for all of us. Enjoy the present, embrace your family and friends, sing, be prepared to go to war against tyranny, rail at the prejudice and the geo-political injustices in the world, think big thoughts, be generous, and eat a lot of ice cream.


Eulogy for Norman Martin, part 2
January 16, 1924 – July 13, 2016
Delivered by Wendy Janett (daughter)
Memorial Service – July 23, 2016

My father was the son of immigrants. His mother, Fay Kaplan, came to this country from Poland in 1908 as a young girl. Her father was a rabbi. My father’s father, also a Jewish immigrant, came from Ukraine as a teenager at about the same time. At the time, Ukraine was still part of the Russian empire, though many of its residents longed to return to independence. As a member of the Social Democratic Party since the age of 15, my grandfather participated in an uprising against the czar. Sometime thereafter, he learned that he was on a list of people selected to be deported to Siberia, and decided instead to flee to the US. He traveled on foot and, when he could, hitched rides on wagons with other travelers, all the way across what are now Poland and Germany, to the city of Rotterdam in the Netherlands, a distance of over 1200 miles. There he worked odd jobs until he earned enough money for passage to America. After disembarkation at Ellis Island, his name, once Kagansky, became Harry Cohen.

The families of both of my grandparents settled in Chicago, where they met, married and had two sons. My father was the younger of the two, and he idolized his big brother, Marty.

The family’s life was not easy. My grandfather was a union organizer for the necktie industry, and my grandmother was a laundress. They often struggled to find work of any kind to keep a roof over their heads and their sons fed, especially during the Great Depression. But my father was always consumed by books and learning, and his brother was his champion and protector. Both of these advantages stood him in good stead as he grew into a young man.

From childhood, Dad was the quintessential scholar, not only excelling in his schoolwork, but spending most of his free time independently studying topics he found interesting, such as obscure aspects of world history, politics, and the Dutch language, which he mastered to fluency. In addition, Dad took his personal spiritual journey very seriously. He developed strong personal ethics focused on honesty, integrity and justice. While still in high school, he became a pacifist and, for a time, a Quaker, and as the threat of war increased in the late 1930s, he joined the Fellowship of Reconciliation and the Youth Committee Against War. Even the bombing of Pearl Harbor did not immediately deter him. Despite his extensive mastery of politics, which made him more knowledgeable about fascism than other kids his age – or, for that matter, most adults – he was so passionate and sincere about his pacifism that when the draft was instituted, he applied for and was granted Conscientious Objector status.

In early 1942, Dad was awaiting assignment as a CO while majoring in philosophy at the University of Chicago. He had a special interest in Ethics and Kant, and in particular the concept of “moral duty”. In May of that year, he decided to reconsider, through study, the actions of the Nazi regime, particularly in regard to its policies in occupied Holland. By the end of that very month, he concluded that his moral duty to help defeat the Nazis outweighed his pacifist convictions. As a result he requested that the draft board reclassify him as 1A and volunteered to join the Army.

To his surprise, when he reported for Army service, his physical exam revealed a hernia and, hence, he was classified 4F and rejected. Although the condition was correctable by simple surgery, the government would not pay for it and his family could not afford to do so. He eventually found a social service organization willing to fund the operation, and in June 1943 he was finally permitted to enlist in the Army.

Once the war was over, Dad returned to the US and resumed his studies at the University of Chicago. It was then that he made what he believed was “one of the best decisions of my life,” namely, to continue studying philosophy, but instead of focusing on ethics, he specialized in logic. With his prodigious aptitude in math, logic was a natural fit for him. In making this slight turn in his course of study, the breadth of his career options instantly ballooned, though he couldn’t have known how much at the time, from a professional life lived entirely in the halls of academia (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) to being instrumental in the creation of an entirely new field – computer science. This choice would give him a wide variety of opportunities in both industry and academia.

Later, Dad was awarded a Fulbright grant for the study of mathematical logic at the University of Amsterdam. There, he met my mother, a Dutch math student who was considering studying abroad in the US. A mutual friend suggested that she look him up to ask him about US universities, and she did. When they met, Dad instantly realized that he had met the woman of his dreams. Before long, the feelings were mutual, and they married 40 days after that first meeting. Their marriage lasted 66 years, until he died.

My parents gave their children a strong sense of security. I always knew, even through the ’70s when so many of my friends’ parents and family friends split up, that my parents would never, ever divorce. They both took their marriage commitment extremely seriously, and for both of them, to violate it would be a breach of their moral duty. More importantly, they both respected each other deeply, appreciating their partners’ strengths and accommodating weaknesses. They were openly affectionate, and when they moved to Westminster, they quickly acquired a reputation as “the cute couple” because they always walked hand in hand. My father was to be completely enamored of my mother from the day he met her until the day he died. He truly believed that he had won the lottery of love by capturing the heart of his Dutch beauty – and he was right. A few weeks before he passed away, my father told me that he had probably been a terrible father. This is not true. Especially by the standards of the times, when fathers were primarily expected to be breadwinners and mothers were expected to be É well, mothers, he wasn’t even a bad father. We knew that he loved us and was proud of us. He had a special activity with each of us – with me, my stamp collection. Though my interest in and patience for collecting stamps definitely waned before his did, I loved spending the time together and having his full, uninterrupted attention. My father enjoyed collecting things, especially facts about those things. Though I have to admit that I never quite shared Dad’s enthusiasm for his hobbies, through stamp collecting he taught me to identify many of the flags of the world, and I enjoyed learning to remember the flags and locating the corresponding countries on our globe. (I still question the usefulness of this knowledge – maybe it will come in handy some day, perhaps if I ever go on the reality show “The Amazing Race”. Who knows?) As I got older, we engaged in many spirited discussions, especially about religion and politics, and I always learned new things from him, even just a few days before he died. In spite of what you may think, Dad, you were a good father.

A little later in the memorial service, we will pay homage to Dad through another of his interests, national anthems. Dad loved national anthems, and these two anthems had special significance for him. The Marseillaies, the French national anthem, was one of his favorite songs, and he requested that we all sing it, to the best of our ability, at his memorial.

And we will hear the Dutch national anthem. It may seem improbable that a poor Jewish boy from Chicago would develop a fascination for Holland, but that is exactly what happened. And as things turned out, if one believes in such things, it would seem that he was merely living out the mysterious part of life that we might think of as fate. Dad’s father literally embarked on his journey to a new life from the Netherlands. My father decided, rather arbitrarily, to teach himself Dutch, and a few years later changed his deeply held ethical beliefs because of the political situation in Holland, resulting in the life changing experience of military service in wartime. And, finally, the Fulbright that enabled him to study in Amsterdam and meet my mother, his lifelong companion, proves that, whatever the cause, his enchantment with the country was well founded.

Dad, we love you and will miss you, but we will look to you as a model of a life well-lived.

 

Water communion service

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 4, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Water Communion Service. We each bring our water from a place that has meaning to us and pour our waters together. We sing water songs and have a child-friendly sermon.


Notes from the sermon

Earth my body,
water my blood,
air my breath
and fire my spirit

In the stories the ancient people tell about how the trees and rocks and animals and people got here, Some stories are of God shaping human beings from mud. Others are of a divine being named Spider Woman gathering different colors of earth, mixing them together to make all shades of skin, plants, flowers, and singing the Creation Song over them so they came to life. Science teaches that life came from the ocean, and beings emerged who could live either in water or on land, and then life evolved so that some lived in water and other life lived mostly on the land, breathing air. So we sing:

Earth my body,
water my blood,
air my breath
and fire my spirit

Our bodies are more than half water. It’s not like water is from here down, that’s silly because you can feel the bones in there! It’s mixes all in with the bones and muscles, blood and skin. Have you ever seen your blood? Sometimes when you get hurt, you skin breaks and some blood comes out. People’s blood all is pretty much the same. What color is it? Red. All life needs water to survive. We like to teach our children to be very aware of water. We are grateful for the clean water we get to drink. We are careful with the plants we plant around our houses, so they don’t use too much water, we don’t leave the water running while we brush our teeth. We like to drink water all day long in order to stay healthy, and we do what we can to help people in other places in the world where they can’t easily get to clean water. Some children your age have to walk a long long way to get some water and bring it back to their families. Sometimes the water is dirty, and it sometimes make their families sick. Some people are working with those families to build wells closer to them so they can get good water without sending their kids out to get water from far away.

Earth my body,
water my blood,
air my breath
and fire my spirit

Have you ever held your breath? Boy, do we ever need to breathe! Air comes into our bodies, all the way in. and we blow it all the way out. Sometimes we can sing while we breathe out. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we just breathe. Some places have air that is clean and good for you, and some places have air that’s dirty with car exhaust or factory smoke or pollen. We like breathing, and so we use our votes to vote for people who will keep our air the cleanest. So we can sing!

Earth my body,
water my blood,
air my breath
and fire my spirit

Our religion, Unitarian Universalism, has a symbol, the lit chalice. See it up here? The fire represents the spirit that helps us love, the spirit that is a voice of truth inside us. Do you have a sense inside when you’ve done something good? When you’ve made a mistake or hurt someone? Ancient people said there was something inside us that lives forever, that lets us feel when we are close to God, close to the Big Spirit that connects us all, and when we are farther away. The Big Spirit that connects us all is a spirit of love and truth. That’s why we light a chalice for our Sunday services, in our home chalices before dinner together, even at meetings that we have here at the church.

Our spirit brings us close to the fire that speaks to us of the Big Spirit of Love and Truth.

Let’s sing again while the last group of people come up and pour their water into the bowls.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

The deep end of the heart

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 28, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

There is a set of memes (photos) on the internet where we are shown what our picture of a certain occupation or activity is, and then next to it, a picture of its actuality. They can be very funny. People’s dreams of parenthood, of having one’s own business, of being a college student, etc. What is our picture of how church should be? What is its actuality? What are we doing here? We will talk about our mission and about our new venture into “accompaniment” of refugees as a way to do hands-on justice.


Here is one thing I love about UUism. The DRE in a New Jersey congregation heard that a three year old boy called Roo had been bullied by a grown man for wearing a tutu in public. He got himself a pink and purple tutu, (or maybe he had one already,) put it on, took a selfie and posted it online with the hashtag tutus for Roo. It’s going viral, and other UU men are taking selfies with tutus as well, posting them with the tutusforRoo hashtag, so when Roo sees grown men wearing the tutus he loves, he can be strengthened to resist the cultural enforcers. This feels like love to me. It feels like kindness. It feels like church.

What do you love about UUism? Friday night 240 of us came to eat from food trucks and talk about that. The facilitator asked us what excited us about what the church is doing, and what we wish the church could do in the future. The results are written on the hearts, scrolls and arrows you see up on the wall, and I think you will have fun reading them when the service is over. Some members of the youth group were there, young adults, older adults, and we listened to one another. And a member of the youth group was asked to facilitate one of the larger groups. That is what church looks like to me. Please stand up if you came to the party. Now, please stay standing if you helped make it happen. Now, please just stay standing if you stayed until the very end and helped clean up. Thank you.

The reason we came together is because it is the time of year when we ask one another to make a commitment of financial support to the church, and it’s important for us to talk about what the church means to us, what we are doing together that feels exciting and important, what we wish for, what actions we see as necessary. Those who were there dove into the deep end, listening, hoping together, connecting and wishing. It is these dreams you are fueling as you respond to the canvassers to let them know what your commitment can be. f want to give you a piece of information, and then I will ask you to forget it. If you were to divide the budget by the number of members of the church, every one person’s share would be about 1500.00 a year. Now I’m going to ask you to forget it, because what this church asks is that you are generous within your means. That is between you and your conscience. Giving generously means giving generously enough so you are hoping from the deep end of your heart, so that part of your heart comes to take up residence with this community, so that you take it personally, so that what this church does matters to you. I am increasing my pledge to the church by 20 percent this year. It hurts a little, but I believe in us, in these loves, these dreams you see on the wall. I believe in our mission.

Church is about community, about connecting with one another, meeting people we might not meet in our daily routines, it is about feeding souls; having interesting things to think about and do, helping people be seen and heard; it is about transforming lives: partnering with the working homeless by providing lunches for them, transforming our lives and others’ by visiting people who are in detention, partnering with asylum-seekers by accompanying them to their government appointments, using our privilege as citizens to allow them to be better seen and heard. Church is about doing justice, working to understand and change the structures that “stack the deck” against some people and advantage others. We do things together that we cannot accomplish alone.

My theme for this fall is “Going back to basics,” as I ask you to support this congregation I want to tell you where it came from. We UUs have our roots in the fourth century, with a teacher named Arius. He taught that Jesus was created by God like humans were, that he was the first created, but still not God, and subordinate to God. In the sixteenth century, King John Sigismund and his chaplain, Frances David, declared religious freedom in Transylvania. People came from far and wide to discuss, without fear of being imprisoned, the nature of God.

Michael Servetus, a Spanish physician, had written a pamphlet called “On the Errors of the Trinity.” His ideas were freely discussed in Sigismund’s kingdom, and the ideas that made the most sense to David and the King were known as “Unitarian,” to distinguish them from”Trinitarian.” When John Calvin, the father of the Presbyterian Church, burned Servetus at the stake, his martyrdom energized Unitarianism throughout Europe, and it spread to the New World. Thomas Jefferson liked Unitarian ideas, and wrote in a letter to a friend that he believed, in his lifetime, every young person in the US would be Unitarian.

In the 19th century the Transcendentalists: Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Thoreau and their friends brought in Eastern philosophy and a love of Nature to mix with the liberal Christianity. In the 20th century, the Humanist movement took the Unitarians in a very rational, skeptical direction, and in 1961 the Unitarians merged with the liberal Christian Universalists, and it is that rich gumbo that strengthens us to hold up our values, to live our mission, to give the gift of our free faith to our children and others who have need of us, and to reach out to those who are hurt, who have been violated, who want safety and sanity of life in this country. We will do our best to choose people who will benefit most from partnering with us. We will connect with one another by volunteering together and having shared experiences.

– Transcendence – To connect with wonder and awe of the unity of life

– Community – To connect with joy, sorrow, and service with those whose lives we touch

– Compassion – To treat ourselves and others with love

– Courage – To live lives of honesty, vulnerability, and beauty

– Transformation – To pursue the growth that changes our lives and heals our world

So here we are just regular people, and this community gives us a chance at these deep things. Sometimes we touch them and other times they elude us. All of these things live in the deep end. The risky area, the place there you are over committed, where you care too much, where your joys are great and your disappointments are painful, I remember finding the UUs, I remember feeling that I was in the midst of my people. A thinking people, a people hungry to be justice makers, who wanted to be better people, I remember loving the way these people talked about nature, were stern with themselves about seeing racism and working against it, where you could be an atheist and go to seminary. I remember hearing UUs talk about God, about believing in nothing, about believing God has 300,000 faces, about love, I remember people who were ok being honest about despair, about being tired, hopeful, wanting to learn more about the lives of gay people, the real complicated history of the slave economy, the story of the indigenous nations who were here when the Europeans arrived. There was courage here. There were questions here. I have been,since then, deeply nourished by our UU people. I have been, since then, deeply disappointed in us. I have been challenged to grow. It feels real. I want to stick with it. I’m coming from the deep end of my heart to support and strengthen this faith where grace surprises us looking like a tall DRE in a tutu. Looking like a teen with a blue streak in her hair facilitating an important church discussion group. How about you?


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 16 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.