Dialogue with Conservatives

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 18, 2015

It has become more and more difficult to have fruitful conversations with people who are different from us in their view of the world. How do we talk to one another?


One of the winners of the auction item inviting a suggestion of a sermon topic suggested that I preach on how she could better talk to her conservative relatives. We all have family members who think very differently from the ways we do. This sermon is a series of suggestions and some crucial bits of information about how liberals can talk to conservatives. This is as much a roadmap of how Republicans should argue with Democrats too.

Hard Wired

The news from science about changing a person’s mind through rational discourse is this: When someone feels something strongly, you can talk yourself blue in the face and not make a dent. You can post the wittiest and most cogent memes on Facebook, you can email jokes and facts and charts and not make a dent. You won’t make a dent in you and their memes won’t make a dent in you. We almost can’t help it. Study after study is showing that the very brains of liberals, conservatives and moderates are wired differently. In a study at University of Nebraska, the scientists follow people’s involuntary responses, including eye movements, when they are shown scary, neutral, pleasant or disgusting photos. It turns out that conservatives react more strongly to the pictures which might create fear or disgust. John Hibbing, of the University of Nebraska, says conservatives are more attuned to fearful or negative stimuli. So the conservative focus on a strong military, tough law enforcement, resistance to immigration, and wanting the widespread availability of guns may go with an underlying threat-oriented biology. John Jost from NYU drew a lot of backlash from conservatives when his studies seemed to show in 2003 that conservatives have a greater need for certainty and an intolerance of ambiguity. Their funding was looked into, but so many peers were finding the same results that it makes everyone safer. The correlations between the body’s reactivity and political ideology are so striking that they can predict a person’s political views from simply watching the eye movements they make when seeing the aversive photographs. There is a common sense evolutionary imperative for threat-oriented wiring. Conservatives also tend to be happier, more emotionally stable. Liberals a bit more neurotic. Being sure of things, having strong ideas of what’s familiar and an aversion to what’s strange or icky keeps you happier, apparently, than being open to new experiences, being bothered by inequality and fretting about the suffering of others. I’m not saying conservatives don’t fret about the suffering of others. They just have a more certain, rule oriented plan for what should be done. I think, since there seem to be almost even numbers of those on the right and left, that nature decided we need people with their foot on the gas and people with their foot on the brake, in terms of social change.

Moral Code

It’s hardwired. The only way to change someone’s mind is to show them that their behavior or practice is counter to their own moral code. Not counter to your moral code, their own. But other studies show that the moral codes used are different. In a study by Jesse Graham, Jonathan Haidt, and Brian A. Nosek University of Virginia, liberals cared more about fairness and compassion. Conservatives cared about those two sets of moral imperatives too, but also measured things in terms of respect for authority, the purity and sanctity of ideas and institutions and in-group loyalty. Those last three were less important to liberal’s thinking.

Steps to Change

Talk about the FBI hostage negotiators about this. What they know is that arguments are emotional. It is rare that someone you’re arguing with will change their mind due to a rational argument. Negotiators have diagramed what they call the Path to Behavioral Change. The first step is active listening. When a Republican is talking to a crazy liberal, or a liberal is talking to your wacky uncle who listens to Rush, the first step in changing someone’s mind is active listening. So you would say “tell me more.” You would say “How did you come to this view?” As they talk, you don’t evaluate: “hm, that’s a good point,” or “I’m not sure your facts are straight….” You just say small encouraging things. “hm.” Or “I hear you.” You might ask open ended questions, like I mentioned before “How did you come to that view?” “What do you think about the front runners?” “What policies really feel important to you?” You can also just, without being weird about it, repeat the last phrase they said. If they say “I just think this is the stupidest group of leaders we’ve ever had.” You could say “the stupidest we’ve ever had?” Using pauses can be extremely effective. When the Moonies and I were talking about their beliefs, sometimes all I would need to do was stay quiet after they had said something and let their words hang in the air. “You say Mr. Moon takes away your sins before he marries you? How does he do that, exactly? By dabbing some wine on your photographs Hm.” It also can help to name the emotions you hear. “That sounds like it was upsetting.” “That makes you mad.” “It doesn’t seem fair to you.”

It’s hard for even the most passionate and committed person to carry on a one-sided argument. You are listening, and not only that, you are showing them that you are listening. This is a rare enough experience for anyone to being to open things up between you. Empathy is the second step of the ladder to change. This doesn’t mean making understanding noises or saying an understanding phrase. This means really having empathy, emotionally relating, to the other person’s perspective. This is what the active listening is for, partially. To actually ask the questions which will help you get to a place of understanding. Rapport, when the other person feels in their body, their mind and their spirit, that you understand, when they begin to actually feel you with them, is the next step. See, this is hard. I rebel at this point. I don’t want to look at the places in me that actually relate to their fears, phobias, suspicion of the stranger, “disasterizing” about the future, cruelty to the suffering, what I see as lack of communitarian spirit. Without getting in touch with those places in you, conversation is not going to be fruitful. If you are a conservative talking to a crazy liberal, you may need to get in touch with the places in you that feel for other people, that want to help, that can face suffering and the reality that it isn’t always the person’s fault who is suffering, the idea that the world is big and overwhelming and our country might not be the greatest country there ever was, that we might have bad decisions, greed and cruelty in our history, that some of us are victimized by others, that security is an illusion, etc.

After rapport is established, then comes influence. It is at this point that you might be able to influence the thinking and feeling of another person. Since empathy, though, you are open to their influence as well. Our mistake is that we try to jump right into influencing other people. Things seem so clear to us. The facts seem to make our conclusion so obvious. One problem is that it seems everyone has different facts.

It used to be that people thought facts were supposed to be – you know, factual. When JFK debated Nixon, though, he later confessed that he just made up the statistics he cited. Made them up. They sounded great. Now it seems that people will say things with great authority whether they are true or not. It used to be that media outlets had to give both sides of an argument. They had to seek out viewpoints on all sides, facts which supported all sides, present them to people so they could decide. During the Reagan administration, the Fairness Doctrine was abolished. I think that was 1987. In 1988 Rush Limbaugh started his radio show. These days, most people watch Fox news or MSNBC. They get red facts and blue facts. They hear about red issues and blue issues. You have to really work to hear both sides. Reasoned and civil discussions are not the style. It is easier and more fun for people to mock one another, to imagine that the people on the other side are ridiculous, crazy, clowns! All this does is to make you feel energized and good in a nasty way about your own side. I’m not asking us to stop that, but you have to understand that we can’t ask those who feel differently to stop their emails, jokes and memes either. It sounds like a lot of listening is recommended. And love even though they may not be able to see how right you are.

“In terms of their personalities, liberals and conservatives have long been said to differ in ways that correspond to their conflicting visions. Liberals on average are more open to experience, more inclined to seek out change and novelty both personally and politically (McCrae, 1996). Conservatives, in contrast, have a stronger preference for things that are familiar, stable, and predictable (Jost, Nosek, & Gosling, 2008; McCrae, 1996). Conservatives – at least, the subset prone to authoritarianism – also show a stronger emotional sensitivity to threats to the social order, which motivates them to limit liberties in defense of that order (Altemeyer, 1996; McCann, 2008; Stenner, 2005). Jost, Glaser, Sulloway, and Kruglanski (2003) concluded from a meta-analysis of this literature that the two core aspects of conservative ideology are resistance to change and acceptance of inequality. How can these various but complementary depictions of ideological and personality differences be translated into specific predictions about moral differences? First, we must examine and revise the definition of the moral domain.”

“Liberals and Conservatives Rely on Different Sets of Moral Foundations Jesse Graham, Jonathan Haidt, and Brian A. Nosek University of Virginia How and why do moral judgments vary across the political spectrum? To test moral foundations theory (J. Haidt & J. Graham, 2007; J. Haidt & C. Joseph, 2004), the authors developed several ways to measure people’s use of 5 sets of moral intuitions: Harm/Care, Fairness/Reciprocity, Ingroup/Loyalty, Authority/Respect, and Purity/Sanctity. Across 4 studies using multiple methods, liberals consistently showed greater endorsement and use of the Harm/Care and Fairness/Reciprocity foundations compared to the other 3 foundations, whereas conservatives endorsed and used the 5 foundations more equally.”


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 15 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.

 

Listening to Drag

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 11, 2015

For Coming Out Weekend, we’ll talk about the cultural and political statement of drag: men dressing as women to perform as entertainers. How is it subversive to the powers that be?


At first I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along

Every social movement has its songs, its gestures, its slang, its assumptions, infighting, and its sense of what’s wrong in the world. This morning, in honor of National Coming Out Weekend, we’re going to look together about the culture of drag and give it a salute for being one of the big-haired, heavily made up mothers of the new freedom, the growing normalcy of the LGBT movement. Drag is cis-men (that means men who were born male) dressing up as women for the purposes of entertainment. Well, sometimes they dress up as parodies of femininity, with exaggerated eye makeup, wigs that reach to the ceiling fans, and six inch heels. Sometimes they dress in torn punk clothes, with just a couple of items of female-identified clothing. Sometimes they are in a satin dress and pearls, sporting a full beard. Sometimes drag can be cis-women (women who were born female) dressed as men, expressing themselves in ways that our culture has identified as male. Sometimes they will have on makeup, eye shadow, a beard, girl jeans and a boy shirt, smoking a pipe…. Oh well. It’s complicated. RuPaul, the most famous drag queen in the world, says “We’re born naked, and the rest is drag.

A sociology PhD thesis by Elizabeth Kaminski analyses drag culture as a community. An oppositional culture, organized both to imitate and mock the dominant culture. In the had old days, which, in many places ended – um – last month, you could get thrown out of your family for being gay. In the early seventies, when some of you came out, you could still get thrown into a mental institution for being gay. About 40% of street kids are gay or transgender. You are three times more likely to commit suicide as a gay teen. A chosen family becomes the structure which holds you together. Sometimes drag queens will take in younger men, give them a place to stay and a start as a drag performer. They can be the “drag mother,” and you can be a performer at the drag balls from their “house.” You belong. There is love and drama and betrayal and cattiness, like there is in a lot of families. A created community has its own language. Your work may have its own language. Your family may have it’s own language. Some of you know a little drag language. What happens if I say “You – better – WERK!”

Not all gay people know about drag. Drag and trans are two separate things, with some overlap, of course. Trans is being born biologically one gender and feeling inside like the other. Of course, that’s oversimplified, because some babies are born with some characteristics of one gender and some of the other, but our culture doesn’t have space for a third gender, like some other cultures do, so parents have to choose for the child. All of this is over simplified, because gender is a continuum, but not as linear as that – you have how you like to express your gender, who you’re attracted to, And trans women aren’t performing, aren’t exaggerated, they just want to express the femaleness they feel at their core. Trans men are just being regular men, not performing. There is a little overlap, but the two things shouldn’t be confused. Drag culture expresses community. It makes a free space for an oppressed minority to express and experiment without apology or approbation, where the music evokes sympathy, humor, solidarity. Outrage, then agency/empowerment. Through songs, jokes, language. Drag shows are for gay folks, but they are also to expose heterosexuals to the culture, to give them a sense of being outsiders let inside.

Drag queens have had to be tough and funny. When you get beat up as a child, you learn to fight, or to take the beating. The GLBT revolution started in a bar where there were men dressed as women and women dressed as men. It was a free space, but not really, since the police raided it regularly. It was 1969, where being gay was still considered pathology. The patrons of the Stonewall Inn were gay men and lesbians, drag queens, transgender folks, and homeless teens. They were used to being raided by the police. Arrests were violent, gay bashing was the rule of the day, and that doesn’t mean verbal bashing. This one night, though, something snapped. The police raided, but the patrons wouldn’t run. Accounts vary, but many say it was the drag queens and butch lesbians who started throwing punches. Then bricks. People poured out on the street to protest police violence that had run unchecked for decades. Things began to change.

Social change happens when collective identity can be developed, and social action frames can shape understanding of what is wrong and what can be done to make it right. Then political protest can be energized. There must be a strong sense of “us” and an anger at what it wrong. Language and music helps with the sense of “us.” We are the ones who understand certain words. We are the ones who get it. We get strong among ourselves and then we act. Some will be drawn to our cause.

One thing sociologists haven’t talked about in the reading I’ve done is that, for social change to happen, there have to be the people who are respectable and the other scarier people. In the often-violent suffrage movement, Alice Paul and her followers chained themselves to the White House fence, were arrested, beaten, went on hunger strikes, and were force fed in jail. Carrie Chapman Catt was respectable and reasonable, and the legislators only dealt with her because on the other hand were the riot women. It looks like President Johnson dealt with MLK because Malcom X was on the other hand, looking scary. Gay organizations which had been working respectably in the culture were suddenly easier to deal with when images of foul mouthed drag queens with bricks in their hands were there for you to deal with if you didn’t deal with the respectable gays.

One song performed in drag shows is called “What Makes a Man a Man.” The performer presents as a woman, but, during the song, takes off the wigs, takes out the pads, and reveals himself as a man as the verses go on. The persona of femaleness is not just for performance – it’s an expression of soul. Some drag queens would dress up whether or not they were performing. Some say they wouldn’t. What they do for the culture is to make it clear to everyone that there are powerful biological drivers which determine gender, there are also certain agreed-upon elements of gender performance we all learn. What woman doesn’t remember someone teaching her to run like a girl, laugh in a lady like way, cross your legs when you sit. I remember my mother telling me to turn the steering wheel delicately, with a pretty bend in my wrist. She also told me not to beat a boy in ping pong or chess, that men had to be taken care of in that way. She was my gender performance coach. My dad too. Drag queens, in the ways they exaggerate femininity, pay tribute to the beauty of that gender performance, but mock it as well, putting the idea in the mind of the culture that they see the performance. They see the social construct. They play out the pathos of longing for love and losing it, gathering up the shards of a broken heart and willing yourself to survive.

A drag show is a place where a free space for an oppositional culture is created. Gender constructs are parodied, injustice is mourned, rage is sung, and spirits are empowered. The queens deserve our respect and our gratitude.
THE BEAUTY IN YOU


Podcasts of 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 15 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.

 

Oh, Delilah!

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 4, 2015

What is the historical context of the story of Samson and Delilah? Samson is the man whose strength was in his hair, and Delilah is the one he let cut that hair off.


Children’s time:

Long ago the Jewish people were living in a land where their enemies were ruling over them. Whenever people you don’t like are telling you what to do, you long for a superhero who can rescue all of the people out of that situation. In that time of oppression, a superhero was born to the Jewish people. His name was Samson. He was amazingly strong, but no one knew why. It was a secret. He fought a mean lion with his bare hands, and won! Some bad guys were waiting for him out on the street when he was visiting a lady friend, and when they tried to attack him, he just pulled up the whole doorway of the town up out of the ground and walked away with it, just to show how strong he was.

When he was grown, he fell in love with a woman named Delilah. He loved her, but she didn’t love him. The rulers of the bad guys asked her to find out what the secret of his strength was. She asked him and he said “I’m not going to tell you that, I haven’t even told my mother and father that secret.” But she kept asking. She nagged him. Do you ever do that? 3 fake stories. 3 times she betrayed him. Why did he keep going back? Finally after lots of tears and nagging, he told her the truth. His strength was in his hair. She waited until he was fast asleep and shaved his hair all off. The bad guys came in and captured him. They did all kinds of mean and hurtful things to him, and made him do work for them. Then — his hair began to grow back! He was getting strong again, but he didn’t let anybody know that. The bad guys, called Philistines, had him working in the jail, but they wanted to celebrate having captured him. They brought him to their temple and made fun of him. He said he was tired and leaned against one pillar holding up the temple roof, where about 3000 Philistines were sitting, laughing at him. He pushed on them, summoning all his strength, and the pillars cracked and everyone fell down and hurt themselves. He got hurt too, though. He got in trouble by letting someone nag him into doing something he knew wasn’t right.

Sermon notes:

You heard the main part of the story, but let me tell you some background. The area of the world where Israel is now was divided into Judah in the south and Israel in the north. The Philistines, who, along with the Canaanites, were long time enemies of the Jews, were in the ascendancy and ruled the land from their five main cities, one of which was Gaza, which is still there with the same name. The Philistines were a sea faring people, probably from Greece by way of Crete. They worshiped a god named Dagon, and built temples with big flat roofs held up by columns. The Jews were governed by women and men called by a word that’s translated “Judges” in the Hebrew Scriptures. Some of them did actually judge the people in the way we would think of it, but most ruled like kings or advisors. Samson had been born to a woman who couldn’t have any children. She was visited by an angel several times who talked to her and then to her husband about the child. She was to drink no wine or strong drink while she was pregnant, and the boy was to be a Nazirite. That was a person who kept extra pure, no drinking, no grapes or raisins, nothing from the vine, and never never cutting his hair. It was a miraculous birth, and the boy was miraculously strong.

He fell in love with a Philistine woman. He asked his parents to go do the negotiations. They told him they’d a lot rather him marry within his own people, not among the enemy. He was in love, and he wouldn’t be swayed. On the way down to the negotiations, Samson was attacked by a lion. He tore it apart with his bare hands. Later, on the way to the seven day wedding feast, he detoured to check out the lion’s carcass, and saw that some bees had made a hive in there and there was honey. He scooped out some with his hands and ate it, and gave some to his parents too without telling them where it came from. As a Nazirite he wasn’t supposed to have any contact with corpses, and he wasn’t supposed to eat anything unclean. He broke the vow by doing this.

Now comes the first time nagging worked on him. At the feast, there were thirty men from the town who were his groomsmen. He told them a riddle. “Out of the eater comes something to eat: out of the strong comes something sweet.” He told them if they could guess it within the seven days of the wedding feast, he’d give them thirty linen garments. If not, they would give him thirty. From their backs. They couldn’t guess. They said to the wife, “You’ve got to get Samson to tell you the answer to this so we don’t have to give him our clothes. Also, if you don’t, we’ll kill you and your family. She asked him, wept, nagged, said “you hate me, you won’t tell me the answer to the riddle” for seven days until he broke down and told her. She told the men, who guessed the answer. Samson was mad, and went to another town, beat up thirty guys, took their clothes, gave them to the men, and went back home without his bride. Her father gave her to one of the wedding groomsmen. So now she was married to a guy who had threatened to kill her and her family.

Samson came down there one day, came in the house, and said “I’m going into my wife’s room.” Her dad said “I thought you hated her, so I gave her to someone else.” Samson was mad. I’m really going to hurt you people, he said, and he tied the tails of 300 foxes together and sent them out, crazed, into the fields, where all the crops burned up. The Philistines were so mad and that family that they killed them and burned down their house. Samson was so mad about that, that he made war on those guys and killed a lot of them. He ran down to take shelter in a canyon. Three thousand men from Judah came to him and said What are you doing? Those guys rule over us, and now they are going to make a war with us. I was just doing to them what they did to me.

We have to take you to them.

Promise you won’t kill me yourselves?

We promise.

So they bound him with ropes and took him to the Philistines. They came at him shouting, and he broke out of the ropes, picked up the jawbone of a donkey and killed a thousand Philistines. When he was through, he called out to God and said he was thirsty. God made water gush out of the rock for him there. He led the Israelites there for 20 years.

Then he fell in love with Delilah.

It doesn’t say whether she loved him. You decide. The Philistines asked her to find out the secret of his strength. He didn’t want to tell, but she nagged. He told her, finally, that if he were tied with seven fresh bowstrings, he would be like any other man. When he was asleep, she tied him with the bowstrings. “Samson! The Philistines are upon you!” He snapped them like threads and fought off the men. She pouted that he hadn’t told her the truth. “You don’t love me. If you did, you would tell me.” He told her if they bound him with new ropes he would be weak. When he was sleeping, she bound him with two new ropes. “Samson! The Philistines are upon you!” He woke up, burst the ropes like thread in a fire, and fought the guys off. She pouted and cried, nagged until he told her “You have to weave the seven braids of my hair into that piece of cloth you’re making on the loom. While he was asleep, she wove his braids into the loom. “Samson! The Philistines are upon you!” He woke up and broke out of the weaving. She wept for days. Finally he told her. “No one has taken a razor to my hair since I was born. That’s the secret. If someone shaved my head, I’d be weak.” When he was asleep, she shaved off his hair. “Samson! The Philistines are upon you!” He couldn’t fight. They blinded him and dragged him off to prison. They shacked him and made him walk around moving the grindstone, like a donkey, grinding the grain. After a few weeks they decided to have an enormous celebration, make a sacrifice to Dagon. Samson was brought to the temple to entertain the crowd. They had their fill, laughing at him, the great superhero of the Jews. Not so strong now, are you? What they didn’t know was that his hair had started growing back. He didn’t say anything about it.

He told the boy who was leading him around that he was tired, that he wanted to lean against one of the pillars of the temple. He put one hand on one and the other hand on the other. He prayed for strength, and asked God to let him die with his enemies. Pushing, he collapsed the temple roof, killing the three thousand people on top. He went with them. His parents took his body home to bury him.

Why would he go back over and over? Sometimes people love like that. We make excuses for that lover, spouse, partner or friend. We make excuses for that church or that boss or that parent. We want to believe they love us. We want to believe so badly that we don’t let contrary information in. We just don’t believe it. Some people demand that you betray yourself in order to prove your love. Some churches demand that you betray your own good sense, your own heart or intellect in order to prove your loyalty. Some jobs demand that you betray yourself in order to keep the paycheck coming in.

Love has mutuality in it. You give and you receive. No one who loves you would ask you to give them your strength. No relationship should ask that you betray yourself.


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 15 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.

 

Good Grief

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 27, 2015

What are some of the ways people experience and express grief? What causes grief? How can we support those we love when they are grieving?


We have had a lot of loss in the congregation this year. Let’s talk about the grief that comes with loss. Grief is a reflection of the loss of a connection. We feel connection to our work, our homes, our animal companions, our senses, our possessions, so we feel grief when we lose a job which was part of our identity, a job we’d had high hopes for. We feel grief when our homes are torn or damaged, when we have to leave a place we loved. We have experienced the loss of a beloved animal who was a member of the family. Some studies have shown that people love some pets almost as much as they love their partners and spouses. In a book I read, one social scientist asked her husband whether he would choose her or his dog that he called his soul mate. He said “please don’t make me think about that.” We feel grief as age or accident take away parts of our physicality – we can’t run any more or use our hands, we can’t see or hear the way we used to, we can’t trust that our muscles will do what we ask of them. The griefs that are most supported by our culture are those at the loss of connection with loved people.

In most cultures there are ways to make mourning visible. Mourning is what you see on the outside, the expression of a grief inside. In some cultures you wear black so people will know what situation you’re in. In Victorian times the people who could afford it wore black for a time, then purple or gray to signify “half-mourning,” before dressing in bright colors again. Our culture is a “move on” culture, a “get over it” culture. We don’t have permission to let ourselves be sad, to isolate ourselves to heal. We are encouraged to “get out there” and be around people. Sometimes folks will talk about the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. They’ll check to see whether you are moving through them competently. No one tells you that you move through them in a wild curlicue. Some you will visit three or fourteen times, others will make combinations like anger and denial, so you’re mad, but you insist it’s got nothing to do with your grief. One of the effects of grief I don’t see many people talk about is the grief ADD I’ve noticed. When you’re going through a divorce or another terrible loss, you have more accidents – you have to drive carefully. It’s hard to concentrate on anything for any length of time, and you tend to grind your teeth. You might worry that you’re not grieving right. People might mutter that you haven’t cried enough, that you’re crying too much, that you were laughing at the funeral reception, that you shouldn’t get married so close to the death of your father, that you made too much of a display of sorrow – it was unseemly, that you don’t seem sad enough or you seem too sad. Mourning is what people see on the outside. There is no way to know what someone’s grief is, because it’s on the inside. Folks might say “how can you still be down about the loss of your dog, just get another one and move on,” but they don’t know this is the companion who loved you unconditionally through your fight with cancer or the death of your parents, or through the awful divorce and they were your soul friend. We even tend to compare our griefs to others’ , we say we’re sad, but look at the family down the street who lost their toddler, and your mom was in her eighties and had a full rich life…. There is no point in comparing griefs. Your grief is your grief. Your pain is your pain. It visits when it wants to. When my mother died I was 23, getting ready to get married. I left from the funeral to go meet Mark’s parents. I couldn’t really feel anything but hungry. And mad. I didn’t cry much. My mom had been sick for five years, and I wondered if I had grieved already. Years later my best friend in SC moved to FL, and I fell apart. I cried every day, grieved like my heart was breaking. My life seemed to crumble. I think that was my mother-grief, triggered by this new loss. Grief doesn’t pay attention to time limits. It comes down when it wants to.

“There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass – if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it’s okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays.”
– Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper

“When someone you love dies, and you’re not expecting it, you don’t lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time – the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes – when there’s a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she’s gone, forever – there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.”
– John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

There is pain and there is suffering. People say “Pain is inevitable, and suffering is optional,” but that sounds cruel to me. I know what they mean. Pain comes from the event and suffering comes from the stories we tell ourselves about what happened. Someone we love dies in the hospital, and there is pain, but suffering afterward comes from the story that there was more we should have done, that we weren’t there the moment they drew their last breath, that the last words we had with them before the accident were angry words, that we did all the patient care and our siblings didn’t do their share, so they didn’t care as much as we did. Suffering comes from telling the stories that our anger at the person for the way they died is unwarranted, that it makes us a bad person. We tell awful stories sometimes, and create a lot of unnecessary suffering for ourselves and the people around us. We just don’t know any better, and it’s hard to just sit with the pain and not make stories around it. There is a lot of guilt in grief: things we said or didn’t say, things we wish had happened, chances for reconciliation that weren’t taken. Sometimes the loss of a connection with someone with whom we had issues is hard because we lose the chance to fix the relationship. We also lose the dream of the ideal mother or father we were still somehow holding on to in our secret heart. There is fear in grief too. Who will we be without this person? Without this job? Without our good hearing? Who will we be with this illness which is taking our body? What will happen? What did we do to make it happen? Other people’s fears get all over us too as they struggle to figure out how not to lose their partner or their child in this same way. We feel blamed and shamed and evaluated and found wanting.

“Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here’s what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it’s still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it’s been too long since you missed them last.”
– Kristin O’Donnell Tubb, The 13th Sign

Our culture has so much puritanism in its roots. The puritans thought that some of us were blessed. That the way you could tell who was blessed was by seeing who had health, beauty and money. If the rich were blessed, then by corollary the poor were unblessed. The sick were unblessed. That must mean they had done something wrong, they were shamed by their lack of blessing. So there is shame in loss, shame in illness, shame in grief at times. How do we get over it? We don’t. The more things you’ve gone through, the more gnarled and scarred you are. That is nature. We are like trees that have endured many storms, had branches break off, been stripped of leaves and bark and had to regrow until we each have our own shape and texture. The searing pain of loss lets up, and we begin to remember with more love and less hurt. The scars are always there, though. We wouldn’t really want them not to be.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.”
– Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
– Anne Lamott


“The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.”
– John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
– C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

It’s so curious: one can resist tears and ‘behave’ very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer… and everything collapses.”
– Colette

“It sucks that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.”
– Rachel Hawkins, Demonglass

“Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night’s sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn’t hear her husband’s ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren’s will be. But we learn to live in that love.”
– Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.”
– Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

“Everyone grieves in different ways. For some, it could take longer or shorter. I do know it never disappears. An ember still smolders inside me. Most days, I don’t notice it, but, out of the blue, it’ll flare to life.”
– Maria V. Snyder, Storm Glass

“Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here’s what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it’s still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it’s been too long since you missed them last.”
– Kristin O’Donnell Tubb, The 13th Sign

“You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on. She is dead. You are alive. So live.”
– Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 6: Fables and Reflections


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 15 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.

 

21st Century Atonement

Rev. Marisol Caballero
September 20, 2015

This week marks Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement of sins in the past year. It calls to take an inventory of our “sins;” not for the sake of returning to that familiar place of liberal guilt, but for finding collective, relational means of moving past it.


Call to Worship
by Chaim Stern

Once more, Atonement Day has come.
All pretense gone, naked heart revealed to the hiding self,
We stand on holy ground, between the day that was and the one that must be.
We tremble. At what did we aim?
How did we stumble? What did we take?
What did we give? To what were we blind?
Last year’s confession came easily to the lips.
Will this year’s come from deeper than the skin?
Say then: Why are our paths strewn with promises like fallen leaves?
Say then: What shall our lust be for wisdom?
Say now: love and truth shall meet; Justice and peace shall embrace.

Reading:
“Coming Clean,” by Rev. Marta Valentin 

Coming clean
Is another way of finding peace in one’s heart.
It is looking up at the clear crisp lavender sky
To find a reflection of my soul spelling out God’s
Prayer among the wisps of clouds-
“Love thyself and then you will truly love me… ”
Coming clean does not wipe out imagined slates of guilt and suffering,
Does not imply travelling a continuum from evil
Toward what is good, blessed, pure, untarnished…

To come clean
Is what pounds in my heart,
Inviting me into its rhythms,
Inviting me to create music out of cacophonous
Sounds and dance from beats richly textured
And interwoven by
Faith,
Hope,
Love…

Sermon:
“21st Century Atonement”

My wife has a wonderfully wicked sense of humor. When we were still just dating, I told her how I chuckled when I read online that one of my liberal Baptist colleagues posted that she was, “about to go preach a word to the people.” I commented that I wish UUs could get away with a just one word sermon! I laughed as I told Erin this story and wondered aloud what the one word might be. Without missing a beat, she smiled and triumphantly shouted, “REPENT”

This Tuesday, at sundown, people of Jewish descent around the world will celebrate Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement and closing observation to the annual High Holy Days that began with Rosh Hashannah. Though of all days, this is the one that will bring mostly secular Jews into synagogue, the more observant will spend the day in prayer, fasting from food and drink and abstain from all physical pleasures, including bathing.

On this day, the sins of the past year are reflected upon with regret. There is a new resolve not to commit those sins again in this new year, and they are confessed before God in prayer. Jewish people are also encouraged to make things right with anyone they have harmed or who has harmed them and to start anew; to “come clean.” In this way, each person has the opportunity to practice forgiveness and be forgiven.

Of course, none of us can make it through twelve months without hurting someone we care about or being hurt by someone we care about. That is human. But there are transgressions that we commit in our hearts, in our actions, and in our inactions that warrant a careful consideration of this aspect of Judaism. Last Sunday, Meg somewhat jokingly referred to what UUs might consider “sins,” such as throwing something away that could be recycled or appearing unintelligent or gullible. But, in all seriousness, there does exist the possibility of community atonement from a liberal religious community such as ours. As a community, we have perhaps fallen short when we could have done more to interrupt systems of oppression, or maybe we have made wrong assumptions on the ways we can be helpful, even still, there were probably times when our action or inaction worked to perpetuate such systems.

Just as racism doesn’t require racist intent, sexism doesn’t require sexist intent, xenophobia doesn’t require xenophobic intent, etc, we know that we don’t have to mean it to mess up. By now, many of us are beginning to get the message that the slogan “All Lives Matter” was created to undermine the Black Lives Matter movement and the fact that right now, we need to strongly affirm the worth of people of color who are the disproportionate victims of excessive police brutality. For the majority of us, we have come to understand that the slogan “All Lives Matter” is a reactionary function of white supremacy feeling threatened, whether or not racism was the intent of the one insisting on erasing the current attention on black lives. We are coming to understand that “white supremacy” does not simply refer to the Klu Klux Klan, but to a system that we did not build but that we all participate in and are subject to, whether wittingly or unwittingly. We are on the verge of understanding that if we are not feeling each loss of an unarmed black or Latino life, if we are deciding to look away, that we are part of the problem. Silence equals violence.

The same can be said for all systems of oppression – the misogyny at play in the assault on available women’s health care options, the xenophobia and islamophobia present in a teen arrested for being a proud electronic tinkerer in a magnet school devoted to science and technology and in the violent and inhumane responses to the current refugee crisis in Europe. But, before we get out the hair shirt and cozy up to that familiar, self-centered place of liberal guilt, let’s remember that Yom Kippur is not simply about wallowing in guilt, as no growth happens there. We’ve all experienced such apologies and have probably delivered them, ourselves. When the one apologizing goes on and on about how terrible they feel, the focus moves far away from the feelings of the other; far away from empathy and true reconciliation; far away from mutual understanding, and the one being apologized to often feels the need to then take care of the feelings of the other.

The advent of the internet and social media has made the high-horse riding finger wagging and postponement of personal introspection so easy and convenient, feeding our notions that the ills of the world are the fault of everyone else but us.

Yesterday, I learned about Jon Ronson’s Ted Talk, “When online shaming spirals out of control,” on NPR’s “Ted Radio Hour.” He spoke about the woman with the minimally-followed twitter account who unskillfully attempted sarcastic, thought-provoking humor when she tweeted, “Going to Africa. Hope I don’t get AIDS. Just kidding. I’m white!” Before she even landed, the tweet had been picked up by Buzzfeed and shared millions of times. The hatred and suggested violence spewed her way by strangers around the world was staggering. A shocking statement like this could have been uttered on stage by a satirical comedian like Sara Silverman and the world would have understood that she is mocking an attitude of white privilege and invincibility that the developed world often carries while traveling. The woman was fired from her job and has suffered trauma associated with the vitriolic response of the internet. Of course, her suffering is nothing compared to the actual suffering of people living with and dying of AIDS on the continent of Africa, but in her confusion around the massive blow up, she told Ronson that she had only hoped to make a sarcastic joke about western hypocrisy.

But, Twitter has no “Covenant of Healthy Relations.” No one is asked to assume good intentions, check assumptions, or engage in direct communication. In fact, social media is structured to encourage the exact opposite of ethical human interactions. For many of us who try not to engage in “trolling” or online bullying, we are guilty of haughty notions of superiority while posting clever social-justicey memes and endless links to think pieces on important issues, online petitions, and crowd-funding causes while hesitating to speak out or for such issues in person and unshielded by our computer screens. I will admit that I can be pretty bad about this as well. And, I believe that there is a merit to armchair activism, or slacktivism, as it is now being termed. There is merit to sharing these messages when they are shared in tandem with real organizing work and when that organizing does not simply reach for the low-hanging fruit of like-minded thinkers, but also appeals the hearts of those with opposing viewpoints who hold positions of power and influence.

The tendency to point fingers and deflect blame from ourselves and our communities was not invented in this century. It is as old as time. The difference now is that our actions and inactions, no matter how small, can have global implications- take the role of social media during the Arab Spring, for example. It is this awareness that can bring the gift of atonement into our lives. The notion of doing better once we know better is as practical as it is powerful. This is the great gift of Yom Kippur’s wisdom to us today.

I will leave you with the words of Stephen Shick, “The events of a single day strike a full balance. At any moment, enough evidence might be presented to convince us that evil will soon rule the world. In the next moment, we may see people breaking free from their fears, confessing the hurt they have caused others, and asking for forgiveness. In such a moment, we might think love will win. Life offers both the sweet blueberry and the poisonous nightshade. Both are real, both grow when given the right conditions. Our moment-to-moment task is not to deny the nature of growing things, but to choose what we will grow in our garden.”


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 15 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.

 

All beginnings are difficult

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 13, 2015

As some of us along with our Jewish neighbors celebrate Rosh Hashannah, the Head of the Year, we will talk about making intentions for what we would like to call into our lives this year and letting go of what no longer serves us.


Call to worship
– Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956

If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

Sermon

This evening, one of the highest holy days of the Jewish calendar begins. It’s Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the world. I just had a birthday, and sometimes a birthday is like a little hill in the terrain, where you are up above the mundane day-to-day and you look back over there you’ve come from and look ahead to see what’s coming. You take a larger view. Sometimes it’s exciting, and sometimes you feel a bit disappointed. You thought you would be better at controlling grumpy moods by now, you thought you would have figured out how to spend relaxed time with your sister, whose outlook on the world is so very different from yours that it seems the very realities in which you live are separate from one another. And you know all of it is at least half your fault.

On the birthday of the world, our Jewish neighbors and cousins are taking time to reflect, on a holy day which lifts you above the regular terrain, getting ready for a new beginning by casting off the things which don’t work in your life, casting off the ways of being in the world which cause pain to yourself and others, your sins, asking forgiveness from people you’ve harmed.

At this holiday, in the Jewish tradition, God is suffused with mercy and grace. It’s a good time to unburden yourself of the things you’d like to go into the new year without. Most of the year, the teaching goes, we come to God like a person would go visit the king. All our best clothes and best manners, our presentation prepared, perfect, our words rehearsed. At this time of the year, they say, it’s as if the king comes walking out of the palace into the fields, and we can approach him openly, as our regular selves, and be accepted and heard.

I think it’s easier to make changes if you feel relaxed, loved, and safe. Some rigidity passes, and you can imagine more choices for yourself and your life.

In the 12 steps there are times when you “take inventory” of yourself and your life. You see what you are doing that is creative, restful, beautiful, life-affirming or constructive and you see what you do that is wrong, or just unhelpful, self-centered, anti-communitarian or apathetic. We UUs do have a sense of sin, as I’ve said before. If we throw something non-recyclable in the recycling by accident, or if we post something on FB that a friend gently suggests might be a hoax we’ve been duped by, or if we say something that hurts someone else’s feelings, or if we spell you’re “y-o-u-r” by accident. You are welcome to add your own.

These are our very mild sins. I’m avoiding the more heinous ones because this is not a fire and brimstone UU sermon and God is suffused today with mercy and grace, why should we not also be? We are good people. We mean well. We try hard.

We are called to judge ourselves clearly, but look at others with a softer gaze. Solzhenitsyn says: If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

Each of you was offered a small pebble as you came into the sanctuary. Rosh Hashanah in connected with an ancient ritual called Tashlik, or “casting off.” You take a stone, or a piece of bread and toss it into some moving water. Or you just stand there and empty your pockets into the water, an old mint lifesaver covered with lint, a dime, a slip of paper with a phone number on it. Take the pebble home with you, or carry it in a pocket, worrying it with your fingers, reminded by its presence of the things about yourself you would like to cast off as a new chapter of time begins.

There is a proverb in Hebrew, kol hatchalim kashim, all beginnings are hard. The Russians say “the first pancake is always a flop.” Making changes is awkward, and as one is learning, there may be clumsiness.

This is the beginning of the church year, and with that comes the annual stewardship drive, where a big attempt is made to interview every member of the community about what part the church plays in their lives, why they’re here, and what financial commitment can they make to sustain and strengthen our church home. This effort brings in financial support, but it also provides a valuable chance for the church’s leadership to hear from its members. We try to do fund raising in a sane and almost enjoyable way, but money is a minefield of shame and questions about whether you are living our values or doing our part. You will be getting a call, and it might be hard to agree to the appointment. It might make you feel ashamed or clumsy, but I ask that you take the call, make the appointment to talk, turn your focus toward how much you value what this congregation is about here in central texas and how much you want to be part of that.

This congregation is making changes, moving more and more toward being in healthy relations, toward standing on the side of love in more and more fraught situations. We are taking the opportunity, on this day of taking inventory, to look over how this congregation is doing at fulfilling our mission. We stepped up to help Sulma Franco avoid deportation so she would have time to go through the process of getting her visa. We became the first church in TX to have offered sanctuary to an asylum-seeker since the 80’s. We got national attention, but, more than that, we had the satisfaction of being part of something that made an enormous difference in the lives of many people. Added to that, we made a new friend and are being enriched by having Sulma and Gabby involved with this community. We had the best float in the Pride parade, thanks to Bev Larkin and her helpers, and our presence there sends a good message to the Central TX community. Our being a Wildlife Habitat is paying off. We have a gray fox living on the property. Because of a bequest from the estate of Martha Leipziger, First UU offers a free breakfast on Sunday mornings, and a multigenerational community of breakfasters has formed, and the first service doesn’t seem so early. Did I go too far with that? Our music program is simply the best. We are engaging our children, passing UU values to them, strengthening them for their lives. Many of you are in small group chalice circles, and if you would like to be in one this year, please look for Mari and tell her you would like to do that They will begin sign-ups soon, so watch the announcements for that. We pay our staff fairly, according to UUA guidelines, so you are doing economic justice there as well.

There are many things First UU could do better. After the service, you are invited to have a slice of pizza and a couple of post it notes. Write on those notes what you like about what this congregation is and what it’s doing, and what you wish would improve. Real human beings will read what you wrote and take those things to heart.

Your comments after the service will be the stone I carry in my pocket, reminding me about what needs attention, what needs to be cast off, how next year can be richer, filled with comfort, transformation, nourishment and working for justice in 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 15 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.

 

Choose to enjoy your life

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 30, 2015

There are many things we do to shape our lives that we don’t realize are choices. How can we make better ones?


I’m going to talk about choosing to enjoy your life by talking about techniques some people use for being miserable.

The first way to be miserable is to try to make other people do right. Your uncle is always going to drink too much at family gatherings and start talking about how terrible the president is. Your parents are always going to bail your big brother out of the financial “adventures” he gets embroiled in. Your sister is going to keep giving that guy another chance, even though he is clearly bad for her, and anyone could see it, and you could say something but it wouldn’t do any good. Even though you know that later she’s going to say “why didn’t you say something?” and you’re going to have to just stare her down.

So you can’t make people do the right thing. You can influence. Sometimes. Occasionally the window of influence is open, and you can say one or two things, then it closes again and your voice bounces off of shiny glass. If you say too much, or lean into the situation too often, you become a voice in the other person’s head that they set up resistances to. I call it “waking up the inner mule.” Then you’re sunk. They can’t even hear their own inner voice of health because now it’s got your voice and they don’t recognize it as belonging to themselves.

Sometimes it comes down to this: when a person in your life is behaving incorrectly you have to withdraw from them until they begin behaving correctly again. That’s advice from the ancient Chinese book of wisdom, the I Ching. Sometimes this can be accomplished and sometimes it can’t.

When I’ve said these things to clients when I was a therapist, they responded “So you just want me to give up? You want me not to care?” No. Care. Don’t give up. Just be quiet. My Aunt Ruth, psychiatrist and mother of seven, used to say “When you can’t do anything about it, just say your prayers and watch it like TV.” Care. Just don’t control. Or give up. The I Ching calls this “bringing a lawsuit,” when you decide someone is hopeless and will never change. It warns against this. So you have to keep some hope but don’t let your hope make you stupid. Don’t let your hope put you in danger. Yoga teaching calls this “idiot compassion,” when, out of compassion for someone, you put yourself or others at reckless risk.

You can’t make other people be happy. Number one, some people don’t want to be happy. It’s not comfortable for them. It’s not familiar. Happiness feels stupid to some people. Others are wired as systems analysts, and they don’t like to be in a situation without cataloging all the things that could be done better, put together better, and giving a report of their findings. I find those folks very useful, because they see real flaws, but they can come off as negative.

You can’t control what people think of you or how they respond to you. The 12 step program has a saying “What you think of me is none of my business.” You can practice some conversations just to see how you think they will go, and those inner conversations can be fruitful, but so many of us try to practice strategies that will make someone respond the way we want them to. We either get lost in our heads, having conversations with them that turn into fights (that they don’t know about) or we polish and polish our confrontation with the thought that this, surely, will make the person who did wrong stop short, have a realization like the dawning of the first day, turn to us with liquid eyes and say “I’m so sorry. You were so right, and I was so wrong. How can I ever make it up to you?”

You have to be aware, when having these inner conversations (one of my clients called it “watching skull cinema”) that you remember the other person has not been part of the conversation. You may think you know what they are going to say. You may actually know what they are going to say, but it’s always good to give them a chance to surprise you.

Another technique for misery is to try to help when your help wasn’t asked for. Just as people won’t be interested in your answer to their question before they’ve asked or even formulated their question, people don’t want your help (usually) until they’ve asked for it. Even sometimes when they ask for help they don’t really want it. I had a great mother-in-law when I was married to her son for 17 years. When she came to help with the babies, I would ask her how to burp them the best or how to lay them down the best, and she would just shrug and tell me I was doing fine. If I asked her three times, she would finally tell me a little something. If you find yourself being snapped at by people around you, and you say “I was just trying to help!” Maybe you are helping without being asked. It’s helpful to people to allow others to figure things out, to allow them the struggle, to encourage their sense of agency. When they come to you in a state, instead of putting down what you are doing, heaving a sigh, getting up and fixing it, you can first try saying “That sure is a problem. What are you going to do?” Some people like the “Bet You Can’t Help Me” game, where you suggest one thing after another and they tell you why that won’t work. It’s fun for them but not for you. Other people have become convinced that they can’t do it, and if you keep doing it for them you underscore their conviction that they are incompetent. I knew a woman whose husband left her for another woman, moved into that other woman’s house a few blocks away, and the wife kept fixing him a plate for dinner and taking it down there. I’m not sure what all she was underscoring with that behavior, but you know that wasn’t right.

When you offer help, think about being a good steward of your time and energy. Are you using it well? Some folks in our lives, you could give them all your money and all your time and they would still need more. It wouldn’t help them. Other people are trying hard, doing what they can, they have a plan, they just need something. They will benefit most from your help. Think about where your help will do the most good. So many times we pour our help into the most pitiful person in our lives, and then we don’t have anything left when someone who is mostly doing ok needs a little something that will make a big difference. This is an insight from family systems theory, which says you help the family most by helping the healthiest members of the family most. Then that ripples out through the family.

This brings us to a corollary of the first bit of wisdom (you can’t make people do right), which is the common cold of techniques to have a miserable life. Trying to control things that can’t be controlled.

I am a big believer in control. First born, Virgo, raised Presbyterian, grammar aficionado, minister (did I say that out loud?) You should control what you can. Trying, however, to control things like other people or the weather or Ð well, here my imagination fails because I can’t think of anything else which can’t be controlled, or at least influenced Ð that is a sure way to be miserable. I’m sure this week I will be faced with hundreds more examples of things I can’t control, and I’ll say “Oh, yeah, that should have been on the list.”

When you are breaking your brain or your heart or your spirit on something, just gently enquire of your inner wisdom whether this is something which can be controlled, and if it’s not, point your feet downstream and wait for slower water.

Another technique for being miserable is not to know what you want and what you need. It’s amazing that many of us don’t know. It’s worth a little inner inquiry. I’m not saying that you always should do what you want and damn the torpedoes, but you should at least know what you want and what you need, whether you go after those things or not. Ask for what you want is a corollary of this. If the people around you don’t know what you want and what you need, you will be less happy than you might be. Some clients have said “If they love me they should just know what I need.” Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. Often they are using 99 percent of their attention just to make it through their days, inward and outward, and they don’t have the capacity to notice your signals. It’s not that they don’t love you. They’re just tired. Or overwhelmed. Or reading a really good book.

If you can do the things you want to do and not do things you don’t want to do, that’s a way to be happier. If you have a choice of whether to do something or not, simply ask yourself whether you want to do it. If there’s not a big YES, then the answer is no. If it’s something for work, and you don’t really want to do it, ask yourself if you really want to have a job. Maybe that will inform your choice. If you don’t really want a job, ask whether you like to be able to buy food and go to the doctor. That might get you the guidance you need. I hope you understand by this overcomplicated backpedaling that I’m not recommending an irresponsible and hedonistic life. I’m just saying it can be insight producing to ask yourself whether or not you want to do this thing you are thinking of doing it. Just because you are good at something doesn’t mean you have to do it. Just because someone else wants you to doesn’t mean you have to. Just because it will make you the most money doesn’t mean you have to do it. Just because your mom and dad think you should do it doesn’t mean you have to do it. Martha Beck, a brilliant, funny and wise life coach with two Harvard PhDs, says to ask yourself, when facing a choice “Does this choice feel shackles on or shackles off?”

To enjoy your life, it’s important to put more focus on the things that are going well. This is sometimes called a practice of gratitude, or counting your blessings. Whatever you pay attention to is what fills your mind.


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 15 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 first one to try

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 23, 2015

What do people do when someone starts acting differently? How did it feel to be the first person to eat a tomato? Who first thought of cooking and eating an artichoke? How do we treat people who try something new?


Reading: The First One to Try
From the Boston Globe, December 28, 2005

Japanese macaque monkeys relaxed yesterday in the hot springs in Jigokudani, Japan, which has been hit by record snowfall. Japanese macaques,(MKACKS) also known as snow monkeys, are the most northerly nonhuman primates in the world. It is said that in 1963, a female macaque ventured into the hot springs to retrieve some soybeans. Other macaques copied her, and eventually the entire troop was making regular visits to the springs to escape the cold. And then a reflection on this story by Jane Rzepka (jhepka), a UU writer:

Thanks go to the first one to try – not just to swanky spa-inclined monkeys, but to human beings, too. Someone out there ate that first preposterous artichoke. Some first person braved a trapeze. A top hat was modeled for the first time, and someone debuted the hula. Snorkeling, yodeling, and trusting a strapless bra had to be notable firsts at a given point in time. Someone, before anyone else thought to do it, looked at a clam and exclaimed, “I’ll eat that!”

Although I can imagine a yodeling, snorkeling, straplessly brassiered, hula dancer wearing a top hat while flying on a trapeze, I don’t mean to give credit to only one game soul who eagerly awaited a clam and artichoke snack. Not at all.

I’m just trying to say that I’m glad we have so many little heroes around who instigate the wows and the aahs that we have come to enjoy. So hooray for the hot-tubbing monkeys. Hooray for all those who take the plunge. Hooray for everyone among us who makes our own days glad.

Sermon: The First One to Try

Japanese macaque monkeys relaxed yesterday in the hot springs in Jigokudani, Japan, which has been hit by record snowfall. Japanese macaques, also known as snow monkeys, are the most northerly nonhuman primates in the world. It is said that in 1963, a female macaque ventured into the hot springs to retrieve some soybeans. Other macaques copied her, and eventually the entire troop was making regular visits to the springs to escape the cold.

– Boston Globe, December 28, 2005

Thanks go to the first one to try – not just to swanky spa-inclined monkeys, but to human beings, too. Someone out there ate that first preposterous artichoke. Some first person braved a trapeze. A top hat was modeled for the first time, and someone debuted the hula. Snorkeling, yodeling, and trusting a strapless bra had to be notable firsts at a given point in time. Someone, before anyone else thought to do it, looked at a clam and exclaimed, “I’ll eat that!”

Although I can imagine a yodeling, snorkeling, straplessly brassiered, hula dancer wearing a top hat while flying on a trapeze, I don’t mean to give credit to only one game soul who eagerly awaited a clam and artichoke snack. Not at all.

I’m just trying to say that I’m glad we have so many little heroes around who instigate the wows and the aahs that we have come to enjoy. So hooray for the hot-tubbing monkeys. Hooray for all those who take the plunge. Hooray for everyone among us who makes our own days glad.

I love how the Boston Globe says simply: “the other monkeys copied her. ” Do you want to know the untold story? I have not made the acquaintance of any Japanese monkeys, but I know the monkeys in my own life, and how different could they be? What they don’t tell you is that when she first went into the hot springs they were crossing their fingers for her, hoping she wouldn’t get burned or disappear into the steam forever. When she actually seemed to like it, when she lolled around in the hot water popping the soybeans into her mouth, they ignored her, as if doing that unexpected a thing were a social gaffe from which she might recover soon, a phase she was going through, like painting your living room lavender or eating only raw food or being an artist. When ignoring her didn’t get her out of the water and back in the snow where she belonged, they made fun of her. Gently, for her own good –to get her back to normal. When that didn’t work, and she was lounging back relaxed in the steamy water for the third or fourth time, with her mate and children in there with her, looking happier than they had all winter, having a little picnic, maybe some more soybeans and a couple of Lone Star beers, then someone got mad and started muttering about how they couldn’t be perfectly sure, but all that moist heat in the winter time was kind of unpatriotic and a little sissified, it was bound to get those babies sick, or make them aggressive, and who knew, they could just all end up in hell for it. After enough monkeys became regulars in the hot springs, all the monkeys claimed it was their idea all along, and they’d been thinking of doing it for months before that one monkey got in. In fact, they were just about to go in when she took the plunge.

Trying something new takes courage, but it’s not always a choice. Sometimes what you have been doing starts to wear out; it doesn’t work any more, it feels uncomfortable. You don’t know what’s next, but you know things are changing. I wrote a song about that, called Chrysalis. Chrysalis There is no denying that the cocoon is a safe place. The song goes: “They said the walls were there for protection.” It’s true. It’s restful in there. Nobody bothers you. You feel like you have it together. Listening to the music in your own head, you can think your own thoughts. Sooner or later, though, the food runs out. Sooner or later you start feeling a little peaked, a little grumbly. There comes a time in life when the effectiveness of what you have been doing so far fades. The way you have gone about things wears out. The creative energy wanes. The music in your head gets repetitive. You need something. Some people describe a restlessness, others, more poetically call it “divine discontent.” (That phrase is attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, but he hated quotations, so it feels a tad ironic to quote him. I’m always ambivalent about it). It’s that divine discontent that keeps your soul from starving to death. You have to start tearing up the safe cocoon to get to what you’re hungry for.

I wonder if the butterflies feel afraid, becoming aware of their hunger, their discontent, their longing? Do they think they might lose everything? They will. They have to lose all that caterpillar-ness, all that cocoon-ness, in order to get wings, in order to take to the sky. I imagine there is some panic that is part of the process. How have you felt when you tore it up, when you make a leap, when you took the plunge?

It takes some courage, some confidence, and hunger in your heart to be the first one to leave the fold. Becoming a Unitarian Universalist can be like that. Some among us were born into families of this free religion, but most of us had to endure the grief, the silence, the concern, the mocking or arguing that accompanies making a change.

Hunger drove that monkey into the hot springs after those soybeans. She was braveÑshe overcame her fear of going into the steam and the bubbling to get the soybeans back. Hunger drives us: hunger for juicy spirituality, hunger for something that makes sense and people we can talk to. The poet from New Jersey, Bruce Springsteen, said “Everybody has a hungry heart.” Something drove you to reach out to this church. Maybe being a UU puts you in hot water with your family or your friends. Maybe your ideas are different from the other folks in your town. Someone has to take the plunge, talking about how God’s not going to send anyone to hell. Someone has to take the plunge and stand up for civil rights for GLBT folk, for Black lives, for immigrant families, stand up for diplomacy before war, for justice before respectability. This congregation took the plunge and became the first church in Texas to be a sanctuary church since the sanctuary movement in the 1980’s. Being the first to try something takes hunger for hands-on justice. It takes a willingness to make a mistake, to not know what you are doing. I think we could do it because we had a mission that is clear. I think we could do it because we were feeling pretty confident, because we knew that we have a smart and capable group and good allies and that, even if we made a mistake, it would be ok. And we will make mistakes. This time we and our allies had a success! That’s the way to start. We will celebrate that success with cake at coffee hour, and we’ll get a chance to congratulate Sulma in person. I’m so proud of you. So moved by your hunger for justice. So soul satisfied with your willingness to jump in and be the first to try.

Are you hungry for the truth? For an authentic faith? Come on in, the water’s fine.


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 15 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.

 

Which God don’t you believe in?

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 16, 2015

Which God don’t you believe in? There are so many pictures of God that don’t make any sense. Are there any that do?


Text of this sermon is not yet 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 15 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.

 

Black Lives Matter

Chris Jimmerson
August 15, 2015

Stories matter. Remembering matters. Black Lives Matter. “We Gather: Another kind of worship” service at which we experience a few of the stories that have become a rallying cry for a new civil rights movement.


This is a “We Gather” Alternative Service

Welcome to First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin. We are an intentionally hospitable religious community. All are welcome to join us in our free search for spiritual truth, meaning and beauty. If you are a visitor with us today, I want to especially welcome you and invite you to join us after the service, when I am happy to answer any questions you might have about this church and/or Unitarian Universalism.

Last Sunday marked one year since a police officer shot and killed Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. Today, we will pause to remember just a small part of the stories of just a few unarmed African Americans who police have killed since then. We will close out each story with the speaker saying the name three times and asking you to respond after each time by saying, “Black Live Matter.”

Because stories matter. Remembering matters. Black Lives Matter.

In between some of the stories, we will have music, reflection and prayer. We cannot possibly tell all of the stories today because there have been over 100 unarmed African Americans killed by police that we know of in the past year. So we will close by projecting each of their names, while our wonderful musical artist, Annabeth, sings a song originally written by a Jewish man in New York to stand in solidarity with black Americans and made iconic by the singer Billy Holiday. Called “Strange Fruit”, it is a powerful reminder that the lynching of Black Americans has not really ever ended. Instead, it has taken on a systemic form within our criminal justice system.

These are extremely difficult stories – I know. As a white male who tries to stand in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter Movement, I find them terribly painful. I can only begin to imagine the pain of those with whom I stand in solidarity. But the stories are real, and remember we must, if we are ever to end this staggering, enraging and heartbreaking institutionalized racism.

We will gather after the service for food, further conversation and reflection, and I will be available to anyone who might want to talk with me. Let us begin by lighting our chalice as is our tradition within Unitarian Universalism and saying together the words projected on our screen, “In the light of truth and the warmth of love, we gather to seek, to find and to share.

Please also join with me in saying together our mission statement, so relevant to today’s service: “We gather in community to nourish souls, transform lives and do justice.”


Michael Brown. Son. Grandson. Stepson. Brother. Cousin. Nephew. He was 18 years old and had recently graduated from high school. He planned to start college soon.

A police officer in Ferguson, Missouri shot him and killed him on August 9, 2014. Michael Brown was unarmed at the time.

The police claimed that he had attacked the officer. Some eye- witness accounts claimed this was untrue.

The police left his body bleeding on the ground for four and one half hours. A grand jury failed to indict the officer who shot him.

Call and response 3 times:
Michael Brown
Black Lives Matter.


John Crawford III. An only son. A father of two. He was thinking about going to college to study something in the sciences. His dad thought he might have become a meteorologist.

On August 5, 2014, he was shopping in a Walmart near Dayton, Ohio. A white mail customer called 911 to say that he had a gun and was pointing it at other customers. The gun turned out to be a toy. The caller later retracted his claim that John had pointed it at other people.

Two police officers shot and killed him inside the store, claiming that he had failed to obey their commands to drop his weapon and that he made a sudden move. Video that appeared later contradicts their claims, and it appears they may have shot him with little or no warning.

He was on the phone with the mother of his two children when he was shot. His father, who happened to be visiting at the time, heard his son’s last gasps of breath through her cell phone.

He was 22 years old. Ohio is an open carry state, so it would have been legal for him to have a gun, even if it had been real, rather than a toy. A grand jury failed to indict the officers involved

Call and response 3 times:
John Crawford III
Black Lives Matter


Tamir Rice. Son. Grandson. Brother.

On November 12, 2014, 12 year old Tamir Rice was playing with a toy pistol in a city park in Cleveland, Ohio. Someone reported him pointing a pistol at other people but also said that it was “probably fake” and that he was “probably a juvenile.

Two police officers shot and killed him, stating that they had warned him and that it looked as if he was reaching for a pistol in his waistband. In video footage released later, it appears that the office who shot him began firing immediately. It was later revealed that the officer who shot Tamir had been dismissed from a prior policing job for emotional instability.

The officers failed to provide first aide to Tamir. When his 14 year old sister ran up to the scene, they tackled her, handcuffed her and put her in the back of a patrol car. They also threatened his mother.

The Chief of Police later repeatedly referred to 12-yeard-old, 5′,7″ Tamir Rice as “that young man.” No decision about the fate of the officers has been made yet.

Call and response 3 times:
Tamir Rice.
Black Lives Matter.


Akai Gurley. Father. Partner. Brother. Son.

Akai entered the stairwell of the building where he lived with his girlfriend and their two-year-old daughter. Two New York Police Department officers were patrolling the stairwell of the building from top to bottom, even though they had been ordered not to do so. One of the officers while fumbling with his gun and a flashlight accidently fired a shot. The shot ricocheted off a wall and struck Akai Gurley in the chest. He later died from the wound.

In the critical moments after the shooting, instead of calling for help for the dying young man, the officers left the scene and began texting their police union representative.

The officer who fired the fatal shot was indicted by a grand jury on charges of second-degree manslaughter, criminally negligent homicide, second-degree assault, reckless endangerment, and two counts of official misconduct. He was freed without paying a bond and his trial has yet to commence. Akai Gurley was 28 years old.

Call and response 3 times:
Akai Gurley.
Black Lives Matter.


Rumain Brisbon. Husband. Son. of four. On December 2, 2014, police officers responded to calls regarding loud music and a potential drug deal at an apartment complex in Phoenix, Arizona. What then transpired was a subject of disagreement between police and differing eyewitnesses. Police claimed that Rumain Brisbon took something out of the back of his SUV, yelled at them and ran into the apartment complex. The officer who pursued him claimed that they got into a physical scuffle and that he thought an object in Rumain’s pocket was a gun. It turned out to be a pill bottle only after the officer had shot and killed him.

The other person who had been in the SUV later said that Rumain had been bringing fast food to his children in the apartment complex, and later, strewn french fries still littered the front porch of the site of the incident. No charges were brought against the officer who shot and killed Rumain Brisbon. He was 34 years old.

Call and response 3 times:
Romaine Brisbon.
Black Lives Matter


Matthew Ajibade. Son. Brother. College Student.

Originally from Nigeria, Matt was a 22-year-old college student in Savannah Georgia. He suffered from bipolar disorder. He scuffled with police who had responded to a call about a domestic disturbance. As they handcuffed and took him to jail, his girlfriend, who did appear to have bruises on her face told them that he suffered from a mental disorder and needed to be taken to a hospital. She gave them a bottle of pills for treating his bipolarism.

On January 1, 2015, Matt was found dead, strapped to a restraining chair in an isolation cell in the jail. Police and jail staff said that he had been “combative” and injured an officer during booking. A corner ruled his death a homicide caused by blunt force trauma to his head.

Nine people from the jail were fired and three face criminal indictments in his death.

Matt was an artist who owned a print design company and was working with his brother to start a new company called “Made in Africa”

Call and response 3 times:
Matthew Ajibade.
Black Lives Matter


Natasha McKenna, Daughter, Sister

Natasha suffered from schizophrenia, and was being held in the Fairfax Virginia jail for reportedly having assaulted an officer. She was 5′ 3 inches tall and very thin.

While in the jail, an officer claimed she refused an order and physically resisted them. They used a taser on her four times for being non-compliant with deputies. She later went into cardiac arrest due to a combination of the tasering, psychoactive medications and what the medical examiner controversially termed ‘excited delirium’. She died on February 8, 2015

Several experts on the use of tasers testified about the inappropriateness of the use of tasers on the mentally ill and about the danger of cardiac arrest from such a large number of uses in a short time period No charges where filed and her death was ruled an accident, though the jail did ban the use of tasers on mentally ill people. Natasha McKenna was 37 years old.

Call and response 3 times:
Natasha McKenna.
Black Lives Matter


Calvin Reid. Son. Sometimes homeless. Also possibly mentally ill. On February 22, 2015, in Coconut Creek, Florida, police fired tasers at Calvin Reid multiple times. Witnesses say that they fired tasers at him even after handcuffing him. They reported up two volleys of four taser firings each occurred, and that Calvin cried out, “They are trying to kill me. I can’t breathe!” as police jumped on top of him.

Reid was 39 and had been working as a meat salesman. He had been discovered in the parking lot of a retirement community, bleeding, clothing torn, likely having some sort of psychological episode. He had refused treatment from paramedics and behaved aggressively.

Police tried to cover up the incident until reports by eye-witnesses through local news media began to appear. The coroner ruled his death homicide by electrocution.

The police chief resigned but no charges against any officers have yet been brought, though investigations continue.

Call and response 3 times:
Calvin Reid.
Black Lives Matter


Time for Centering and Lighting Candles

I invite you now to join together in a time of centering and reflection. Breathing together, breathing in and breathing out, together we each find that spark of the divine within us, that vulnerable place that paradoxically gives us strength and sustains against the forces of sorrow and injustice. Breathing together, breathing in and out, in and out, we enter a time of silence together. When the music begins, feel free to light candles in our window. Candles of sorrow and joy, hope and remembrance.


Bernard Moore. Father. Grandfather. Beloved community member.

On March 6, 2015, 62 year-old Atlanta resident Bernard Moore began to cross a street he had crossed as a pedestrian many times before. As soon as he started across, however, a police car hit him, knocking him into the air. He died shortly thereafter.

Video from a surveillance camera contradicts the account of what had happened given by the Atlanta Police Department, which claimed Bernard had walked out in front of the car. The video shows that he stopped before crossing, looking both ways and watching several cars go by. It shows that the officer driving the car was going much faster than the other traffic, seeming to come out of nowhere. Eye witnesses testified that the car was going up to twice the posted speed limit and that its lights and siren were not on.

No action against the officer has yet been taken. The county district attorney says an investigation is still ongoing, and the family has filed a law suit.

Call and response three times:
Bernard Moore
Black Lives Matter


Walter Scott. Father. Son. Brother.

North Charleston police officer Michael Slager pulled 50-year-old-Walter Scott over for a minor traffic infraction. During the stop, Walter Scott fled on foot. It is not known why he did so, and he was unarmed.

Slager pursued him on foot, eventually firing 8 shots, five of which struck Walter Scott, killing him. Slager reported that he had feared for his life because Walter Scott had taken his taser.

However, video taken by a witness and released later shows that Walter was at least 15 to 20 feet and running away when Slager fired at him 8 times. Walter did not have the taser. After Walter fell, Slager handcuffed his hand behind his back. Slager then appeared to have dropped something near Walter’s body.

A grand jury brought a murder indictment against Slager for the killing. The trial has not yet begun.

Call and response three times:
Walter Scott.
Black Lives Matter.


Freddie Gray. Son and brother.

On April 12, 2015, Baltimore, Maryland police officers reported arresting Freddie Gray after he had seen them and begun running away. They reported arresting him “without the use of fore or incidence”. Witnesses and video released later contradicted this, claiming that officers beat Freddie with batons and pinned him down using a “folding technique” wherein one officer bended his legs backward while another hhel him down by pressing a knee against his neck.

In the video, Freddie appears to already be injured when police put him the back of a police van, handcuffed and shackled. They did not secure him inside the van, and he could not control his motion because of being handcuffed and shackled.

Sometime during the van ride, which included four stops, Freddie spinal cord injuries that resulted in his death several days later.

Six officers have been indicted in the case. Their trials have not yet begun. Freddie was 25 years old.

Call and response three times:
Freddie Gray.
Black Lives Matter.


Brendon Glenn. Son, father, called “an adventurous soul” by his many friends.

Brendon got into a scuffle with a bouncer outside of a Venice Beach, California nightclub on May 6, 2015. Two police officers got involved. One of the officers shot and killed Brandon during the scuffle. He was unarmed.

The Los Angeles police officer who fatally shot him was a seven-year department veteran who was the subject of a criminal investigation for omitting witness statements in police reports.

A security camera on a nearby building recorded the shooting. After reviewing it, the Los Angeles Chief of police stated that the situation did not seem to justify the use of deadly force. An investigation is ongoing.

Brendon Glenn was 29 years old. He had sometimes been homeless but had been working part-time for the city as a lifeguard and seasonal helper.

Call and response three times:
Brendon Glenn.
Black Lives Matter


Spencer McCain, Father, Brother, Son

Forty one year old, Spencer McCain had threatened violence at a home where he was not supposed to be due to a protective order that had been issued against him. Police responding to a domestic violence call shot and killed him, even though he was unarmed and made no move toward them or to run away from them. After breaking into the Owen Mills Maryland apartment on June 25, 2015, Police claimed that they found him standing in a “defensive position” and began firing at him. They did not go on to describe exactly what that might mean. Nineteen shell casings were found on the floor in the area where the officers shot him. The case is still under investigation, but no charges have yet been brought against the officers.

Spencer’s children, ages 2 and five were present in the apartment when the police shot and killed their father.

Call and response three times:
Spencer McCain
Black Lives Matter


Jonathan Sanders. Father. Husband. Son.

Jonathan Sanders was exercising his horse using a street legal horse and buggy in Stonewall, Mississippi on July 8, 2015. Police officer, Kevin Herrington pulled up behind him, startling the horse. According to witnesses, when Jonathan, not knowing what was happening, chased after his horse, Herrington pursued him on foot. Another witness heard Herrington say that he was “going to get that N***er” before pulling up behind him.

Herrington caught Jonathan Sanders and grabbed him in a chokehold. Jonathan repeatedly cried out, “I can’t breathe”. When one of the witnesses, who was an in-law of Jonathan Sanders and a correctional officer himself, approached Herrington and asked him to release the chokehold, this witness says that Herrington pulled his gun and tightened his grip.

Jonathan Sanders died from being held in chokehold for over 20 minutes. He was thirty-nine years old. The officer is still under investigation.

Call and response three times:
Jonathan Sanders.
Black Lives Matter


Samuel Dubose. Father, Husband. Son. Brother.

Samuel Dubose was shot and killed by a white police office on July 19, 2015 after the officer had pulled him over for a minor traffic violation.

The officer, Ray Tensing, originally claimed that there had been an altercation and that he shot and killed Samuel only after Samuel began to drag him with his car. A video that was released later showed that this never happened, that Samuel appeared to be compliant with the officers orders and that Tensing shot Samuel without warning as he set non-violently in his car.

The officer has been charged with murder; however, no charges have been brought against two other officers who were present at the scene and that backed up the false story that Tensing had originally reported.

Samuel Dubose was 43 years old and well loved in his community.

Call and response three times:
Samuel Dubose
Black Lives Matter


Christian Taylor. Son. Brother. Grandson. Nephew. College student. Football Player.

On August 7, 2015, Brad Miller, a recent graduate of the police academy and new to the Arlington, Texas police department shot and killed Christian, who was unarmed.

Police have claimed that Christian had broken into a car dealership to steal a car and that the shooting occurred during an altercation with him.

Family members have questioned this claim, stating that Christian had no need to steal a vehicle and that he was looking forward to the new college year and playing football.

Just a little over a week before he was killed by them, Christian had tweeted about his fear of the police, saying in one of his postings, “I don’t want to die too young.”

Christian was 19 years old and about to enter his sophomore year of college.

Call and response three times:
Christian Taylor.
Black Lives Matter.


Prayer

Please join me in a spirit of prayer. Spirit of love and life, great holder of all stories, power of remembrance, breathe into us the courage and fortitude to rise together in solidarity and demand justice. Sustain us for the long and difficult arc that we must sometimes travel to do justice, and yet fill us with the courage and the urgency that the horrendous and continuous extinguishing of black lives demands.

Remind those of us who would be allies that most often our best way to offer solidarity is to follow.

Comfort the many who are feeling great anguish. Direct our rage toward dismantling murderous systems of oppression.

Fill us with a love and compassion that will never allow us to stop until justice and beloved community have been fully realized.

We ask these things in the name of all that is good, all that is holy.

Amen

Extinguishing the chalice

Please join with me in saying our words for extinguishing our chalice. We extinguish this flame, but not the light of truth, the warmth of community, or the fire of commitment. These we hold in our hearts until we are together again.

Now as we close our service, I again invite you to stay for further conversation, as we share a meal together afterwards. Know that you, each of you, have the power to make a difference. Know that I am available to you, today, now after the service and in the future. Know that love really is more powerful than greed and hatred.

Know that here at First UU Austin, we host both a Unitarian Universalist People of Color group and a white allies group, and we partner with many others doing the work of racial justice, including our local Black Lives Matter group. If you have not already, I invite you to get involved.

As we remember the names, I invite you to rise up and demand: Not. One. 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 15 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.

 

Give me your tired, your poor, your harmed

Susan Yarbrough
August 9, 2015

U.S. asylum-seekers and refugees have their faces pressed up against the glass of something they want with every cell of their being. When we remember the times of alienation and longing in our own lives, we begin to have compassion for ourselves and to understand the heartfelt joy of listening to and welcoming strangers.


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Spiritual Ambivalence

Rev. Nell Newton
August 2, 2015

We’ll sing that we need to “Do when the Spirit says Do,” but what about all those other moments in life when spirit or Spirit is not a big factor in our decision making or dinner making? This Sunday we’ll take a short tour of the history of our concept of “spirit” and examine the ambivalent ways that spirit might move or remain inert in our daily living.


Sermon: Spiritual Ambivalence

Spiritual Ambivalence… How’s that for a provocative sermon title? As I remember it, I had previously committed to writing about spirituality and there was a newsletter deadline looming but I was feeling tired or cranky, and groused to a colleague that at that moment I didn’t really care one way or the other about Spirituality. “Oh, so you’re experiencing Spiritual Ambivalence?” he asked. And really that was a better title than something like “Spiritual Indifference” or “Spiritual Apathy” because those sermons would get too grim too quickly. So let’s give thanks that he offered Ambivalence.

Valence has several different usages, all rooted back to the same Latin root as “value”. Ambivalence has both antique and contemporary uses. The “ambi” refers to being able to go in at least two different directions. So being ambivalent don’t mean simply not really caring one way or the other, it’s more about being able to consider the value of two different things or ideas. So, as I talk about Ambivalence, it’s not to say that I don’t really have much interest in something, it’s that I am willing to consider the value, the upside and downsides of multiple competing, and exclusive ideas.

So, what am I ambivalent over? Spirit. Spiritual. Eternal and everlasting spirit. Soul. Unseen and unmeasurable. Maybe that spark of the divine that animates us and connects us to something. And, when it comes time to really consider the concept, I wind up ambivalent. I suppose, compared to some folks, I’m a fairly spiritual person. At times it seems like a very important aspect of my life, well worth placing at the center of things. But other times, I really figure that my spirit probably knows what it’s up to and to just to trust that it’s fine wherever it is or isn’t without my mind trying to micro-manage and scrutinize and fuss over what or where or if spirit is a valid construct to work with.

So what do I mean when I’m talking about “spirit”? We’ve all heard the term and we probably share some common assumptions of what we all mean with the concept. The word we use is rooted in the Latin for “breath”, but the concept itself needs a little unpacking.

The concepts of spirit go back well before Socrates and Plato, but we’ll start with the Greek’s take on an unseen human soul and the notion of a world of the eternal spirit – separate from the physical world. Plato was explicit in his dualism – the body is of the physical world, material, and finite, while the soul is on loan from the unseen spirit world, to which it returns upon death to face judgment. So, according to Plato, in one person is the temporary flesh and the eternal spirit. And, as he saw it, education involved coming to recognize that the spirit was superior to the flesh and that this fleshy life should be spent preparing the soul for its eternal destiny.

Yes. If all that sounds familiar, Jesus and his followers picked up that construct, merged it with some of the Jewish theology and ran with it – partly to make their ideas easier for the average Greek to recognize and adopt. Because, thanks to Alexander the Great, common Greek was the lingua franca of the early Christian era, so if you wanted to spread the word you did it in Greek.

Now, to contrast Plato’s notion of spirit, we should look at another Greek who came along shortly after Plato. Epicurus modified the whole dualistic view of humans and took the stance that flesh AND soul were physical and both ended with death – and both body and soul dissolved back into nothingness upon death. Life was for living; it wasn’t just a preamble to eternity.

It was this dissolving into nothingness that fit nicely with the atomic theory of the philosopher Democritus. He was the first who theorized that all things are made up of tiny particles that bounce around temporarily forming things, disintegrating, and reforming things. When you mashed together Democritus and Epicurus, you wind up with a universe where humans are merely a chance collection of atoms, destined to arrange, dissolve, and rearrange. Because human life and souls were temporary, Epicurus felt that reason should be used to live well and lie low and not draw too much stress into one’s life. It wasn’t so much that he felt you should eat dessert first, but he would have recommended that you avoid politics and heated arguments that could turn nasty.

Perhaps folks didn’t like the idea of dissolving into nothingness, or perhaps the Christians really got some traction with their emphasis on souls, but either way, we all have a shared understanding of spirit and/or soul and it generally is understood to be ongoing, eternal, not-of-this world. We’ve all heard of your everlasting soul, and some of us have even picked up on the Hindu notion of a soul that is reincarnated over and over before finally being reunited with the eternal. But very few of us have a common, shared idea of soul or spirit as something compostable, something that might degrade and have its bits rearranged. And Epicurus is now known more for his appreciation of a good meal rather than for his finite soul.

Is it ego or the love of self that makes us prefer the idea that some part of us will go on indefinitely? Perhaps. In any case, one version of “spirit” is more popular, than the other. When people say they don’t really believe in souls, they typically are referring to Plato’s and not Epicurus’.

And plenty of folks have rejected Plato’s separate, unseen, and eternal version of soul. Because why would a universe have two sets of books with two sets of physics- one for the material and physical and one unseen and unmeasurable? Just to keep us on our toes? That’s the kind confounding that prompts some of us to just quit worrying about spirit, souls, and anything else that is unmeasurable. It’s hard to fix dinner while contemplating the eternal. Water gets burnt that way. It’s just easier to get like Epicurus and focus on the living of the here and now and live fully and well. Avoid politics and loud arguments. Just fix a nice simple supper and eat it slowly and with appreciation for the way your body takes those atoms and rearranges them into energy and tenderness.

But, perhaps you have had a moment where you could sense the largeness and interconnectedness of all things. Maybe you’ve had a sense of transcendence – that which transcends time and body and even the laws of physics. Those are the moments when the spirit seems to be saying Pay Attention. And when the spirit says “do”…. It’s hard to ignore such a commandment.

So where does that leave us? Well… if you’re ambivalent, or uncertain which approach to follow, let me assure you that it’s okay. Our religious tradition doesn’t insist on a belief in an unseen soul or eternal spirit, and even when we do recognize a soul or spirit, we aren’t asked to make it the most important part of ourselves. We’re cool with bodies here. Some of my best friends have bodies…

I’ll even offer that this ambivalence towards spirit is actually a legitimate theological response, steeped in history, and reflective of our values.

If we are ambivalent on spirit, it’s because we refuse to be certain. We know that with certainty comes complacency and a tendency to be smug. When it comes to the most vital details, like if we have an eternal soul or are simply a random collection of atoms, we’d rather be uncertain and open to see new truths, than to be stubbornly fixed and unresponsive. If we are ambivalent, it means that we feel that revelation is not sealed, it is ongoing.

Can you see how that is a different theology from one that tells us that everything is fixed and predetermined? We’d rather have a messy uncertainty that might bring us to something new than a certainty that will keep us pinned in place, unable to respond to change.

To wrap all this up, what is my advice to the Spiritually Ambivalent and those of us who tend more towards certainty?

Well if you truly don’t hold with notion of soul or spirit, please know that you have plenty of company. But I would invite you to do some honest examination of what you’ve thought about spirit, spirituality, soul, and anything eternal, and figure out where you learned to think like that, and be able to state clearly what it is that you might be uninterested in.

And, if you’ve had a sense of soul, a presence of spirit, here’s what I’ll invite you to consider: look at what you know verrrry closely. Are you keeping the idea of an eternal spirit as simply an extension of the self through eternity, or are you willing to consider that it might follow the same laws as atoms and redistribute over time? What if the soul is not about the self, not about your acts or actions, not about judgement, but entirely about your letting go and reuniting with the All That Is? What I’m asking you to consider is a totally non-self version of spirit. No ego, no personality, no person at all. Quite simply, what if it is a spark of the divine that is returned to the source when you’re done with it? That follows closer to the laws of physics AND the teachings of the mystics.

This is a tough order because really, right now we’re pretty busy just living and learning and loving and leaving in these bodies. It’s a full-time job – this being alive. So, it’s hard to think about not being alive, even if it is trying to contemplate something eternal.

But, perhaps after you’ve had a simple supper, you can reflect on the eternal Now of a life well-lived.

©2015 Nell Newton


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 15 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.

 

 

Being Safe

Rev. Marisol Caballero
July 26, 2015

In many liberal activist circles, we hear the term “creating safe space” casually thrown about. Is “safe space” truly ever possible or is the notion a popular fiction of progressive rhetoric? Is being safe what will ultimately transform our world?


Call to Worship 
by Angela Herrera

Don’t leave your broken heart at the door;
bring it to the altar of life.
Don’t leave your anger behind;
it has high standards and the world needs vision.
Bring them with you, and your joy
and your passion.
Bring your loving,
and your courage
and your conviction.
Bring your need for healing,
and your power to heal
There is work to do
and you have all that you need to do it
right here in this room.

Sermon: “Being Safe”

I’ll never forget a story that Meg once told me about how she tried to explain male privilege to a man who, despite her best efforts, still didn’t get it. She said, “Women live with various levels of fear 100% of the time. Men don’t have to.” I had never heard it put that way before and had never even considered it in those terms, but yes! I don’t walk around looking over my shoulder, in a constant state of panic, but it’s nonetheless true. I think that, in our heart of hearts, it’s true for most women. I think that a certain level of naivete can be expected from those women who don’t carry around a healthy dose of such fear. History and experience have taught us this. The annual statistics of rape and sexual assault in this country, alone, are staggering- and that’s only counting the women who muster the courage and, more importantly have the support systems in place, to come forward and report these crimes. Margaret Atwood once said, “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.”

Understanding how tenuous safety is for women, I was shocked when I heard the term used in a starkly different manner by a young Latina activist at the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health’s Summit in D.C. this past spring. At the outset of the lobbying workshop, the day before we would lobby on Capital Hill, two presenters made their apologies, “Lunch ran long and we have a ton of material to cover, but everything we are going to cover and more is included in your binders for your perusal on your own time before we get to the Hill tomorrow. That being said, we are going to go quickly to cover as much material as we can in the time we have.” Midway through the session, a young woman raised her hand and interrupted, “I need to say that I am feeling very unsafe right now…” “Can you tell me more about what you mean?” asked one of the presenters, patiently. (I’m learning that patience and a high threshold for foolishness are skills required of professional activist/lobbyists.) “Yeah, you are presenting a lot of information very, very quickly – too quickly for my brain to process it all. I feel like this format isn’t providing a safe space for every learning style. My learning style isn’t being respected and I just needed to say something about that.”

The presenters reiterated their earlier disclaimer about time constraints, apologized, and attempted to slow down the presentation. As a result, less material was covered than originally hoped for and there was less time for questions. The workshop had been high-jacked in the name of safety.

I have been engaged in liberation movements and have run in activist circles for many, many years now, and have heard the phrase “safe space” used ad nauseam. In the late 90’s, the term was so refreshing. When facilitators of dialogue, professors, and organizers introduced a conversation as intentional “safe space,” it meant that bigotry and disrespect would not be tolerated. That historically marginalized identities would be celebrated and openly acknowledged. Slowly, over time, I have watched this prevalent term morph into a perversion of what it once was.

Curious by its mis-usage by a young woman of color (a first for me), I approached the woman during the break and told her that I was curious about her use of the word “unsafe.” Did she truly feel her safety was threatened? Did she feel like the presenters’ admitted lack of adequate time was somehow an affront to her, personally? Did she truly have the expectation that all learning styles and speeds would be catered to in every setting, at all times? She was defensive in her response, as expected. I was hoping that her defensiveness signaled that she simply hadn’t given enough careful consideration to her word choice. Who knows?

This interaction disturbed me. Obviously, it did. Here I stand, talking about it, months later. It didn’t just annoy me, it disturbed me. I saw it as a symptom of a quickly-spreading illness among progressives that conflates comfort with safety and upholds conflict avoidance as a virtue of doing social justice organizing and education. The sheer entitlement that is presumed by using the term “safety” or “safe space” is enough to get my suspicious side-eye out on anyone who uses it. Though I understand the continued need for and will continue to advocate for spaces and occasions for historically marginalized people and communities to know that they are in the presence of allies, think the mutation of the understanding of “safety” and “safe space” point to deeper, more systemic problems within progressive organizing and get in the way of true growth and hopes of peace.

In the early 70’s, when Paul Simon penned, “American Tune,” he identified the time as “the age’s most uncertain hour.” Little did her know that uncertainty, war, and violent hatred of difference would not be questions that only his generation would have to grapple with.

I had the pleasure of meeting Rev. Osagyefo Sekou at the UU Association’s General Assembly this year. His talk had me on my feet and his humor at a mutual friend’s cookout gave equal levels of profound insight. Sekou, as he’s called, is a Baptist minister from the St. Louis area (and hails from my alma mater, Union Theological Seminary! Woot, woot!) who has become a leading prophetic voice in the Black Lives Matter movement from the ground in Ferguson. He was recently interviewed in Yes!Magazine about how the nature of this movement has some on the outside, looking in a bit squeamish:

“Martin Luther King ain’t coming back. Get over it,” said Rev. Sekou “It won’t look like the civil rights movement. It’s angry. It’s profane. If you’re more concerned about young people using profanity than about the profane conditions they live in, there’s something wrong with you.” He notes how the leadership in this new civil rights movement is different, “Now the leadership that is emerging are the folks who have been in the street, who have been tear-gassed. The leadership is black, poor, queer, women. It presents in a different way. It’s a revolutionary aesthetic. It’s black women, queer women, single mothers, poor black boys with records, kids with tattoos on their faces who sag their pants.” When asked about the lack of ethnic diversity in most churches and how that affects this movement, he quotes Chris Crass, one of Unitarian Universalism’s baddest (I mean that in the best possible way!) white, anti-racist writers and organizers, “Chris Crass says that the task of white churches is not about how many people of color they have. It’s what blow are they striking at white supremacy.”

On Thursday, I was asked to give an opening prayer at a silent march and vigil for Sandra Bland, the black woman killed in police custody this past week, right here in Texas. I was pleased to see several of you turn out for the last-minute event. Before we began marching, the organizer announced to the crowd that we would be marching in a particular order, “Black people in the front, Latinos behind them, all other varieties of brown bodies behind them, and behind them – everybody else.” She made the crowd repeat this to make sure it was clear. I was standing next to a member of our congregation who has shown up to stand against injustice many-a-time. They asked if I had seen “what just happened.” “They just segregated the march!” “It’s great!,” I said. “What?” “That’s what allyship is about. It’s about listening for and not presuming how to be of help, about knowing when to lead and when to follow.” “Fair enough.” I was so moved by how this short exchange could move someone from discomfort, from possibly feeling hurt and excluded, to considering a different narrative; from considering that, “okay, maybe it’s not about me.”

We live in a world where, increasingly, those who are afforded unearned privileges, have unwittingly grown accustomed to an expectation of personal physical and emotional comfort. We saw this in the confusion around the name of this new civil rights movement. Many white people, and those people of color who felt a bit tasked with caring for the comfort of white people, didn’t like the movement being called, “Black Lives Matter.” “Why not, “all lives matter?” they asked and sometimes demanded. Saw a great twitter post that summed up “why not,” “What is the impulse behind changing Black Lives Matter to All Lives Matter? Do you crash strangers’ funerals, screaming I TOO HAVE FELT LOSS? Do you run through a cancer fundraiser going THERE ARE OTHER DISEASES TOO?”

Let’s stop expecting personal “safety” in our justice work. This expectation is the ultimate expression of unchecked privilege – which is not to say that those who catch themselves with their ganglia hanging loose are bad people or even bad allies, it’s just to say that when we realize that we can survive getting it stomped on, we may realize that is was us who dangled it all out before the world, in the first place. Friedman, of Friedman’s Fables, once wrote that, “all organisms that lack self-regulation will be perpetually invading the space of their neighbors.”

The notion of “brave space,” as an alternative to the expectation of “safe space” is creeping its way into activist communities. It presumes that learning requires levels of risk, vulnerability, and personal transformation. In truth, courage is what we need. After all, if safety is to be conflated with personal comfort, how can any group or individual ever be responsible for the personal comfort of another? “Agreeing to disagree,” is usually a means of avoiding such growth and learning from one another. Instead, we should venture into conflict and controversy with civil, yet challenging discourse, taking responsibility for both the intention and the impact of our words, understanding that these may sometimes be incongruent.


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 15 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.

 

Sanctuary

Rev. Chris Jimmerson
July 19, 2015

First UU has become a sanctuary church for an immigrant facing deportation to a country where her life would be in danger should she be returned to it. We will explore the tradition and the current state of the sanctuary movement. How might it transform her and our religious community?


Call to Worship

Rev. Marilyn Chilcote from “The Public Sanctuary Movement, An Historic Basis of Hope: Oral Histories”

Sanctuary was a loving and mutual relationship. It’s much more than us giving to them. They gave to us a sense of what it means to be a people of faith. Everybody predicted our churches were going to lose members over this. Our churches grew because people started coming back, looking for a place where faithfulness meant something.


Reading

Rev. Robert McKenzie from “The Public Sanctuary Movement, An Historic Basis of Hope: Oral Histories”

It was in every way a conversion experience. I mean, awakening me to the true issues of the gospel.

I read the bible very differently than I used to. I see the world very differently. I read the bible, and I see God’s concern for the poor…

That was the same purpose for which we were struggling in EI Salvador, for justice and a better world, an equitable distribution of the world’s goods and equitable opportunities for life in this world. And those are the controlling ideas as I read a scripture. I used to read other stuff. Now I read this stuff. And I get impatient with speculation, with non concrete flirtation of ideas. I just don’t have any time for that. It used to be very big in my agenda, you know, sort of the abstract theological reflection.

Now, all of that means nothing much to me, and the concrete, hands on, dealing with people, entering their anguish, dealing with their poverty, with their hopes and their expectations, all of that now means everything as I read scripture, as I deal with the community of faith, as I engage myself with the world ….

Then also the whole business of listening to people whose life experience are so deep. It’s just come to me that people who are struggling with life and death issues are people to be listened to, are people who have an uncommon wisdom, are people who ought to be setting the agenda. It’s that kind of solidarity with the poor. I’m not there to minister to them. They minister to me.


Sermon

Ingrid and Omar, a young couple from EI Salvador, came to the United States right out of college. They decided to make the treacherous journey after witnessing several of their fellow students being shot down in an attack on their campus due to student protests in which they had also participated. Omar remembers lying on the ground as the shots whizzed by overhead and the bodies of his friends fell all around him.

Ingrid was pregnant.

They knew they had to escape. Omar came first, traveling much of the way strapped to the bottom of a pick up truck. Ingrid came later, seven months pregnant and hiding in the trunk of car. They came with only a few pieces of clothing and Omar’s violin. They came because their lives and the new life Ingrid carried with her were at stake.

And despite the threat of persecution and even death in their country of origin, our government refused to grant them asylum and would have deported them, had not St. John’s Presbyterian Church in Berkeley, California offered them sanctuary.

That was in 1982. A small number of churches were beginning to form what would become a much larger church sanctuary movement for Central America refugees fleeing human rights violations, even death squads, in their home countries.

And today, over 30 years later, we find ourselves in a situation that is eerily reminiscent of that time. And, once again, a handful of churches, including this one, are offering sanctuary to refugees from many of these same countries.

As most of you know, last month, we began providing sanctuary for Sulma Franco, a woman from Guatemala who had been a leader in Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and transgender rights activism. She fled her country and fears going back because LGBT persons in Guatemala are routinely murdered or physically abused. The Guatemalan government does nothing to protect them, implicitly supporting these abuses. Any yet, like with Ingrid and Omar in the 1980s, our own government has refused Sulma’s request for asylum. It has failed to offer her refuge, so First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin has.

In doing so, we assumed the mantle of “prophetic church”, along with a tradition and set of responsibilities that go with it.

Now, we’ve been using that term, “prophetic” a lot lately, and a number of folks have come up to me and asked some version of, “What does that mean?”

I think we can get hung up with the word “prophetic” because many of us learned that it has to do with predicting the future. And indeed, the biblical prophets in our Judeo-Christian tradition were described as conveying messages they had received from God about what the future would be like – and it was pretty often a terribly bleak future because the people and their leaders had been behaving quite badly and their God was preparing to throw a rather ill-tempered fit about it.

The ancient prophets though were also offering a critique of the injustices they were witnessing – a vision of how their world could be made better. It is this meaning of prophetic that we use today to describe a church that is bold enough to confront the injustices of its time, creating beloved community both in its midst and out in its world.

Likewise, the church providing sanctuary as both a safe-haven for victims of injustice and as prophetic witness against larger systemic injustices also goes all the way back to those ancient times. We stand in a long history and tradition regarding this meaning of prophetic church.

In the ancient Israelite culture of the Hebrew Bible, their tabernacles, and later the temples and even entire towns could serve as refuge for a person accused of a crime, particularly if what they had done had been an accident.

You see, the laws of the time contained a system of retributive justice – what we often hear described as, “a life for a life, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, an arm for an arm, etc.” Now, this system of retribution applied whether the offense was intentional or not. So, if you accidently poked your neighbor’s eye out while wagging your finger in their face for forgetting to recycle, they could turn around and poke your eye out for being overly sanctimonious.

A bigger problem though was that the ancient Israelites were even more tribal and cliquish than we are now, so if my brother dropped his axe and accidently cut off your third cousin’s left foot, then someone from your tribe could cut off my brothers foot, but then I could take retribution by cutting off their foot and pretty soon our tribes would be at battle, hacking off body parts right and left, like some Monte Python sketch.

That didn’t seem very just in the long run and was a real impediment to passing on the gene pool, so the availability of sanctuary served to help interrupt this chain of events.

It also provided those wrongfully accused of a crime a means to escape immediate and harsh retribution and a refuge from which injustices could be critiqued.

During the early decades of Christianity, house churches sometimes offered a safe haven from oppression under the Roman Empire. In the middle ages, churches in England were legally recognized as temporary sanctuaries, where persons accused of wrongdoing could gain time to allow for their case to be made.

During the Protestant Reformation, reform churches and the cities in which they were located, such as John Calvin’s Geneva, sometimes provided refuge for protestant exiles from the Catholic church – though not always, as our Unitarian forbearer Michael Servetus found out when John Calvin arranged for him to be burnt at the stake, greatly irritating the Catholics, who wanted to do it themselves.

In the U.S., churches provided sanctuary along the Underground Railroad for slaves fleeing the South to seek freedom. Later, churches sometimes provided shelter for women’s and civil rights leaders.

It was in the early 1970’s though, that our sanctuary movement in its current form really took root. Responding to the prolonged, casualty heavy Vietnam War, peace activists and clergy in San Diego and Berkeley, CA, offered church sanctuary to soldiers agonizing over whether to return to the war. This combination of providing safe haven to people in desperate need and at the same time issuing a public declaration against unjust governmental policy and actions became the foundation upon which the immigration sanctuary movement would arise.

As Eileen Purcell, an early activist in the sanctuary movement puts it, “What distinguished sanctuary … was the educational and decision-making process that engaged entire faith communities and led to a corporate and public declaration of sanctuary.”

In the mid-1970s, religious organizations like Church World Services, Catholic Charities and Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services, with the support of the U.S. government, began assisting refuges escaping abuse in Chile and Argentina, but then in the 1980s and 90s, civil war and political turmoil broke out in Nicaragua, EI Salvador and Guatemala. Our government was often involved in supporting, sometimes covertly, the forces that were inflecting wide-scale human rights abuses in these countries. Because of this, the government refused to establish the legal framework regarding human rights conditions in these countries that would have allowed refugees pouring out of them to receive asylum and argued instead that they were coming for economic reasons. Sound familiar?

The church sanctuary movement arose to again both provide much needed support for folks like Ingrid and Omar and to shine a light on the injustices being perpetrated both here in the U.S. and in these Central American countries.

People from across different denominations, classes, political parties and races came together in this fight often both working in the sanctuary movement in the U.S. and traveling to Central America at their own personal risk to bear witness.

Our own Unitarian Universalist Service Committee (or UUSC), our congregations and our religious movement as a whole were intensely involved in these efforts, and we sent delegations to Central America. The UUSC provided education and advocacy, as well as a study guide on how to become a sanctuary church.

The government responded by infiltrating sanctuary churches with paid informants. One pastor recalls answering the door one morning to find someone who said they said they were there to repair the phone lines. A few minutes later, he answered another knock at the door, only to find another uniformed man, who also claimed to be from the phone company.

Both of them were government informants in disguise, who had somehow gotten their wires crossed. Awkward. And pardon the terrible pun.

Eventually the government charged a group of clergy and lay leaders in Texas and Tucson, AZ with a number of counts, including harboring and transporting illegal aliens. In the Tucson trial though, the government blocked the defense from making any mention of conditions in Central America, refugee stories, applicable international treaties, the U.S. Refugee Act of 1980, religious convictions or U.S. Foreign Policy. The resultant “kangaroo court”, while obtaining some convictions, backfired against the government in the court of public opinion. Those convicted received suspended sentence or a very short period of house arrest.

Eventually, in a negotiated settlement of a legal case called American Baptist Churches versus Thornburgh, the government agreed to reopen previously denied asylum cases and to accept new applications from those who had been afraid to apply before. Later, Congress passed legislation providing temporary protected status, allowing many more refugees from these countries to avoid deportation and to obtain work permits.

Today, a new sanctuary movement has arisen out of this history and tradition – responding to the needs of people fleeing these same countries and calling attention once again to our government’s mistreatment of these refugees. It is a movement that is again pointing out the U.S. role in creating such terrible conditions in their countries of origin in the first place – this time due at least in part to our failed war on drugs and the activities of our multinational corporations.

This sanctuary movement is the prophetic legacy into which First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin has stepped.

It’s important that you know this about legacy, because your board of Trustees will soon be engaging the congregation in a discussion about whether we want to become a sanctuary church for the longer term.

Under our system of governance, called policy-based governance, the board works with the congregation to establish the church’s values, mission and ends. The ends are kind of the goals we will pursue in order to live out our values and mission. Our senior minister, Meg, then determines the means, or the things that we will do and the ways in which we will pursue those goals. The board also sets limitations for the senior minister, specifying what she may not do in trying to achieve our ends, mainly things that are illegal, unethical or just plain mean and un-ministerial-like.

So when the question of offering sanctuary in this one case came up, doing so was a means for pursuing our ends. Likewise it didn’t seem to involve going up against any of those limitations. So Meg, after consultation with the board, decided to seize the prophetic moment and offer sanctuary to Sulma.

By contrast, the larger decision about whether to become a sanctuary beyond this individual case, potentially involves a redefinition of our ends or at least a redistribution of our priorities within them. As such, Meg and the board believe that it deserves a larger, congregational discussion.

In that discussion, you will have to consider the costs and risks associated with becoming a sanctuary church longer-term. You have heard something of the potential risks today. We have already experienced something of the potential costs in terms of resources and ministerial, staff and volunteer time needed to support providing sanctuary.

So too though, will you consider the potential for transformation. Certainly, we hope that providing sanctuary will be transformative for those who come among us. Sulma has told me that she feels a sense of safety and protection here, as well as a renewed sense of hope, knowing that there is an entire community behind her. Our wish is also that publicly declaring ourselves a sanctuary church will contribute to changes for the better in our immigration system and in our role in the world.

I hope though, you will also consider the potential for transformation within the church itself. I have already sensed in the church a more tangible sense of common purpose, a renewed commitment and passion for our mission.

I’ll close by letting you know that your response to welcoming Sulma among us has already made a big difference for me personally. Just before Sulma moved on campus, I was having a pretty tough time of it. As many of you know, my stepdad had died only a few months before. In the time since, my spouse Wayne had been battling some pretty serious health challenges, and his insurance company was refusing to pay for a procedure he badly needed: the evils of our still for profit healthcare system – but that’s another sermon.

Then, I got a call that my mom was also in the hospital. Both Wayne and Mom are doing much better now, but that was a real low point.

I’m a humanist to the extent that I have an overall faith in the ultimate goodness of humanity.

I’m a theist to the extent that I normally have a sense of connection to something much larger than myself and yet that I am a part of and hold a part of within me.

I have to admit though, at that point, I was loosing that faith in humanity. That connection to something larger than myself seemed far away and in danger of slipping completely out of reach.

And then we put out an email announcement with a list of items we needed folks to donate in order to make a welcoming home for Sulma. That evening, I went to bed exhausted, without checking to see who might have responded.

I got up the next morning to an email inbox full of new messages from church members offering to help. We had several offers for every single item we had listed. We had offers of things that we hadn’t even thought about. People wrote me to say, “I don’t have any of that stuff, but let me know what you need and I’ll go out and buy it.”

Then, we put out another message saying that we needed a bed for Sulma. Almost immediately, two email messages appeared in my inbox at the same time. One of them said, “I have a very nice queen-sized mattress but I don’t have box springs to go with it. The other said, “I have queen sized box springs but no mattress.”

Now, I’m a dyed in the wool Unitarian, but I could have sworn something I’m not allowed to call the Holy Spirit was moving through my email inbox about then.

This church’s outpouring of generosity and compassion renewed my faith and reconnected me with that wonderful and sustaining sense of being a part of something so much larger than myself.

I think that’s what truly living out a shared mission can do for a religious community. I think that’s the transformative potential of putting on that ancient mantle of prophetic church.

Not that I have much of an opinion about which way I hope our discussions may go.


Benediction

May you go forth today carrying with you a sense of awe and wonder that makes transcendence in our world seem possible.

May you carry with you the sense of beloved community we share here, so that you may create more of it in your world.

May you freely give and receive compassion.

May you know the courage to live honestly and vulnerably, seeing all of life’s beauty.

May possibilities for transformation be ever present before you.

May the congregation say, “Amen” and “Blessed be.” Go in peace.


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 15 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.

 

There is no Present like the Time

Rev. Marisol Caballero
July 12, 2015

The dying give us many lessons and infinite wisdom about living. Rev. Marisol brings stories from film, literature, and her experience as a chaplain in reflecting on this topic.


Call to Worship
By Jane Maudlin

For our community gathered here, for the spirit that called us together and drew us to this place:

We give thanks this day.

For moments we have shared with others; for times when we have reached out across barriers of distance and fear; for times when others have reached out to us; for moments when we have discovered another along our path:

We give thanks this day.

For this community of celebration and growth, introspection and solitude, and for those moments of “that peace which passes all understanding”:

We give thanks this day.

For our gathering together out of distant places; for our weaving together out of many separate selves this hour of celebration and worship:

We give thanks this day.


Reading: A Night in the Hospital Room,
by Vanessa Rush Southern

A couple of years ago, I flew to Michigan in the midst of December snowstorms and holiday preparations to be with my aunt Nancy. I had spent almost all the summers of my life with Nancy from age nine onward, over time she became another mother to me. She was an aunt by marriage, but made room for me as if I were her own. Before long I was leaving home the day after school got out and spending the whole summer with her and my uncle and my two cousins, returning home just in time for the next year to begin.

This time, however, I was headed to see her under the worst of circumstances. She was at the end of a long struggle with cancer she would not survive. When I arrived she was in particularly rough shape. The pain management team at the hospital had not quite gotten her symptoms under control, so she was sick to her stomach and in pain. I offered to stay the night.

Nancy and I had become somewhat distant in the few years before I came to the hospital. She and my uncle had divorced, and somehow keeping me close must have felt awkward to her. Her phone calls became more infrequent, and uncertain how to convince her I could love them both, I had let the space grow between us.

However, here I was in her hospital room and there were things to be done, most of them reminiscent of so much of what she had done for me over the years when I caught a summer cold or stomach virus.

I was returning the favor. I held her hair when she got sick. I pressed cold compresses to her hot forehead. I said what soothing words I could think to say.

For the first few hours that night it was all we could do just to keep up with her discomfort. Then at some point in the night a nurse changed the dosage levels of some medication, and the worst of Nancy’s symptoms quieted. I could see her body relax and take it easy for a stretch. All of a sudden, in the darkest part of the night, the room was quiet and her spirits perked up.

Not knowing how long this would last, I took the opportunity to tell my aunt what I needed her to know.

I thanked her for all the summers together and the idyllic times we had- Parcheesi late into the night, old movies with all of us curled up like a pile of puppies on the couch. I thanked her for welcoming me with her characteristic show of delight every time I entered a room. And I said what I really needed her to know: I thanked her for loving a girl she really didn’t have to love; I let her know that who she was and how she loved me shaped who I have become.

This aunt, you should know, wasn’t given to maudlin shows of emotion. She ritually ended every summer with a kiss and turning her back with an, “I’ll see you soon.” She hated goodbyes, and she knew and I knew without saying so that this was one. I knew she didn’t want to have this conversation, but she listened. When I was finished, she said, as if she were confused by the whole exchange, “How could I not love you? I loved you the moment I first saw you.”

As a child, if you are lucky, you always know you are loved, but perhaps you wonder too if you will ever lose it. How conditional is it? Do your parents love you because they have to? How lovable are you, really? So, you try to please the adults around you, behave, look cute, clean up, read the cues.

To be loved without reason, without argument or proof or hard work; to have someone powerless not to love you is almost miraculous. What a gift to imagine that two people are bound to love each other, no matter what, irrevocably, like a body pulled and held to the ground by Earth’s gravity. A life can stand forever on the knowledge it was loved like that, even just once.


Sermon

I’m not a huge fan of romantic comedies. Of all the movie genres, rom-coms are the most easily predictable, which bores me senseless. Not to mention, they are also sappy, cheesy, and super hetero-normative, for the most part. I know that fans of these movies don’t watch them for the writing or the acting, but to retreat into a simple story that doesn’t require much of them, having spent an exhausting day filled with people and obligations making all sorts of demands on them. Strange thing is, though, in real life, what happens next is usually not as predictable. On my refrigerator at home, I have a lovely magnet that was a thank-you gift from one of our recent high school grads that quotes Allen Saunders, “Life is what happens while we are making other plans.” It’s so true. That lesson smacks me in the face often and hard because if there is any truth to zodiac personality types, I am a true-to-form Virgo control freak of a life planner. I try to hide it well, but I have had an idealistic fantasy about where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing 5, 10, and even 50 years hence for as long as I can remember. Some of it has come to pass, more than I ever truly thought would, if I’m honest, but almost none of it in the way I imagined it would.

I have no idea if there is an age, please reassure me later if yes, at which hyper-planners such as myself calm down a bit and go with the flow; let go of expectation. But, my time as a chaplain taught me that those who know that they are dying, not always, but often have so much to teach the living about this sort of stuff.

Oftentimes, a chaplain becomes a sort of reverse midwife. The role of a chaplain when ministering to a person who has neared the end of their life is to hold a space for the dying to be able to speak openly and say the things that need to be said to someone who isn’t going to shut it down. Loved ones, avoiding their grief, will say things like, “Oh don’t talk like that Dad, you’re going to be alright just like you were last time.” It is a tremendous gift to be able to be the one to say, “Yes, you’re dying. What is that like for you?” Amazingly though, what I have learned is that, as cliche as it may sound, the truth is that I have often been given tremendous gifts in return. These parting gifts have come in the form of wisdom about life that the living would benefit from implementing before they find themselves in a similar place of reflection.

For those who are aware that their earthly days are numbered, it is said that there are five things that they need to say, in some way, before they die. These are: Thank you, I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me, and good-bye. This makes good sense. Of course, gratitude would be up at the top of such a list, as would sorrow and regret. If a stock-taking of any life is happening, every life will contain opportunities for both. An acknowledgement of both would surely help to wrap things up neatly.

Knowing that forgiveness has been extended before death, or at least making it known that forgiveness is desired is as important as assuring others that they are loved. Very few of us reach death without having known grief, ourselves, so saying a proper goodbye to loved ones becomes extremely important if the dying person is at all able to offer that closure.

I really loved Jim Burson. He was a member here longer than I’ve been alive and he died this past year. I went to see him less than a couple of weeks before he did and we had a nice, long talk. He struggled to catch his breath, but that didn’t stop him reminiscing with me about his years with this church, his theologies, or his ongoing concern for and curiosity about present-day struggles against injustice. We chatted until he was thoroughly wiped out from the strain of it all, but he made it clear he would go on talking for hours, if he could. I asked him how often he would like for me to come visit him. IfOh, about every two weeks,” he replied. “You would like a visit from me in two weeks’ time?” I clarified. He and I both knew then and there that he would not be alive in two weeks’ time. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yes. I would like that.” He was saying goodbye. He was doing so in a way that retained his dignity and was in line with his personality. He wasn’t one for a fuss to be made on his account. Without taking no for an answer, he had me help him out of his chair so that he could give me a hug while standing. He was so exhausted, he nearly fell back into his chair if not for my help. He had the gentility, or the nerve – however you choose to see it – to apologize for not walking me to the front door.

Jim had lots left to do. He had no death wish. Even in his eighties, he expressed wanting more time, but life had other plans.

As a chaplain in San Francisco, I met a man I’ll call “Bob” on my first overnight on-call shift. I was called to bring communion to a Catholic patient. That’s all I knew: Catholic and wanted to take communion. I mentioned to the nurse that the Eucharistic ministers would make their rounds the following morning, but I was told that wouldn’t do, the patient wanted communion now. I was irritated. I shimmied out of my pajamas in the on-call room and headed upstairs. That visit changed my life and my understanding of chaplaincy.

Upon arrival, I noticed that the skin-and-bones patient had a tracheotomy, a hole in his throat, and a big sign above the bed that read, “NPO” an abbreviation of the Latin, nil per os, meaning nothing by the mouth. How was he going to take communion, I thought? I introduced myself and found that he communicated by scribbling notes on a legal pad. We chatted some and I found out that he was a huge fan of Thomas Merton, Trappist monk, writer, and pacifist, he was a gay, hugely liberal and largely mystical Catholic, and that he had lived a life filled with progressive activism.

I was nervous. I had never given communion before and had to wing it. In the elevator I had found a passage from the gospel of Matthew to read. I asked him how he was hoping to take communion and he pointed to me and wrote, “I want YOU to take it on my behalf.” Now, I am very deliberate not to take Christian communion. I feel it is inauthentic and disrespectful for me to. After all, I was known in seminary for saying, “I love Jesus, but I just don’t want to eat him.” But, this wasn’t about me, so I ate the wafer and drank the juice and felt completely spiritually nourished. He then wrote, “I feel as if I have taken it quite bodily. Thank you.”

I got to know Bob quite well over the next twelve months. He remains one of the kindest, most compassionate souls I have ever met. In our last conversation, we spoke our good byes very openly and hugged. He wrote, “I’m dying.” I said, “I know. How does it feel?” He wrote, “I’m scared.” I said, “What scares you most about it?” “I’ve never done it before,” he wrote. “But, I’ve always wanted to be a saint.” He looked up and managed a smile at me. “I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the politics of the Roman Catholic canonization process, are you?” He mouthed a big, “NO,” and wrote, I have worked to do all I can for justice down here. I am excited to know all that I can do from up there.”

As a hospice chaplain, I had the pleasure of meeting an elderly woman I’ll call “Alice.” Alice was very elegant and joyful, despite the pain of her advancing cancer. I looked forward to our regular visits, even though I knew every story she told and re-told by heart. She would tear up when talking about the husband who had been deceased for fifty years. She spoke of her regrets and gave my amazing advice that served to boost my personal gratitude in unexpected amounts. Once, when she was speaking about the depths of depression to which she sunk in her grief, she told me about her love of quilting and attributed her healing from the brink to despair to sitting and quilting every night for at least a year. “You can just about solve all of the problems of the world with a needle and thread” she said.

I had no idea what Alice meant by that at the time, but I remember how it felt to hear. It felt like she knew that she wasn’t much longer for this world and had just imparted onto me the summation of her wisdom in one simple phrase. Of course the repetitive act of sewing didn’t take her grief away. Here she was, fifty years later, shedding tears for her love. Alice was reminding me that we are stronger beings than we know, that spending time alone with debilitating grief is the only real way to ever the other side again, and that calm and focused creativity can being about peacefulness.

I always say that I have the coolest job in the world right now – and I do, but being a chaplain is a pretty sweet gig, too. Imagine getting paid to sit and listen to amazing, sometime scandalously shocking stories and priceless nuggets of wisdom and get paid to do it! Above all, the most important gift that the dying impart on the living is not some obvious, yet true version of, “seize the day!” or “life is short,” but the notion of letting go of the best laid plans, as they say, because this life requires it of us. Yes, let’s use this precious gift of time, this life wisely, but what doing so requires of us is flexibility, fortitude, and the faith that no matter how much the reigns of our own destinies slip out of our imagined grip, all will be well. That healing, peace, and even happiness may be found in the direst of circumstances – not because of some half-baked theology that causes people to say such things as, “everything happens for a reason,” and, If God never gives you more than you can handle in a day.” The gaping holes in this thinking are apparent in the face of tragedy, stark injustice, and disease.

Not all of us get the heartbreaking-yet-glorious privilege of sitting at the bedside of the dying. Not all of us are afforded the opportunity to receive the spoken or silent wisdom that can land upon those with one foot in this world and one foot beyond that great mystery of death. But, for those of us that receive that great present of such time, let’s share their message, by living it in the time we have.


Benediction
– Kenneth Collier

I do not know where we go when we die;
And I do not know what the soul is
Or what death is or when or why.
What I know is that
The song once sung cannot be unsung,
And the life once lived cannot be unlived,
And the love once loved cannot be unloved.


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 15 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.