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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
March 3, 2012
Purim is the Jewish festival celebrating a time long ago when the Jews were saved from destruction by the brave Queen Esther. What’s the story? Get ready to boo the bad guy.
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Chris Jimmerson
February 26, 2011
Both the Unitarians and the Universalists have a long history of prophetic ministry – speaking truth in the public square and, perhaps more importantly, taking action on social issues. From Michael Servetus espousing an early Unitarianism in the 16th century through the Prophetic Sisterhood of the late 19th and early 20th century, to the Unitarian Universalists (UUs) publishing the Pentagon Papers in the mid-20th century, UUs, though not always unified, have a long tradition of being at the forefront of social change and carrying our values into the world. Will we continue that tradition into the 21st Century and beyond?
How many Unitarian Universalists does it take to change a light bulb?
We’re not sure. The Lighting Technologies Study Team of the Clean Energy Options Working Group of the Green Our World Starting Here and Now Task Force of the Facilities and Grounds Committee hasn’t issued its report and recommendations yet.
You may have heard other variations on this or similar jokes, all on the theme that we UUs can sometimes seem to talk, study, argue, debate, disagree, discuss and “400 plus pages written report” things to death.
It’s not that doing our due diligence, making sure we understand the issues or working through our differing viewpoints isn’t a necessary part of it; it’s just that we (and pretty much all liberal religious groups) have been accused of getting so caught up in our mental gymnastics that we never actually end up doing much about whatever the issues might be. Those 400 plus pages can end up in a file somewhere.
But that’s certainly not always true and it never has been. Even before the merger of the Universalists and the Unitarians, the Us and the Us had often acted as prophetic liberal religions. As our Unitarian Universalist training curricula A People so Bold says it, prophetic religion is “religion that is on the cutting edge, reading the signs of its times, creating a just and loving community in its midst, and advocating passionately for a better world”.
In 16th century Europe, even the very idea of believing in a Unitary God was prophetic and could get you branded a heretic and burned at the stake. And don’t even try for universal salvation! They’d have just added more dry wood to the fire.
In America, early Unitarians and Universalists were among the first to work for improved education, provide charity for the poor, ordain female clergy, call for emancipation and work for women’s suffrage.
Later, after the merger in 1961, this prophetic spirit would continue, with UU participation in environmental issues and in the fight for racial justice, sexuality and gender equality, political and religious freedom.
To be sure, our efforts historically have never been perfect or unified – at no point have either of our Us ever managed to be in complete agreement about anything. However, there is little doubt that overall we have a history of being at the forefront of social issues.
Any yet, as I mentioned earlier, liberal religion can run the risk, sometimes, of intellectualizing more than engaging the core issues. Due at least in part to our roots in the Enlightenment, we tend to focus on the individual as rational and self-determining rather than place our “being” within our connections to others and the web of existence. We see the INDIVIDUAL bigots, the individual abusers, the individual classists and so on, but we don’t as often see the underlying societal structures that perpetuate the oppressive behavior. We focus on the individual victims and not entire cultures, races, classes and other groups that are being systematically subjected to injustice.
For example, let me share some questions I have been asking myself. In the past few years, how often have I given canned goods or the like to the food pantry or the homeless shelter but done little to speak out against the social conditions that force people to live on the streets and go hungry in the first place? I wonder — how many of us recycle, conserve and work to reduce our own environmental impact, yet remain largely silent as our government subsidizes businesses that do far more damage?
How often have we written checks or volunteered for the non-profit clinic, the shelter for battered women, the halfway house for recovering addicts or any other of a number of non-profit groups and then returned to the security of our own homes and lives without having to really consider –what is creating the need for these service agencies to begin with?
Now, I am going to pause for a moment of liberal religious guilt. OK, that’s long enough — because these acts of care and service really are vital and needed and wonderful and necessary and a part of creating the world we seek as UUs. But I believe there is another arena of action required if we hope to really make change. And that’s where living our prophetic religious tradition comes back in.
Will we really be “a people so bold”?
Will we volunteer at the immigrant assistance non-profit AND rally against the economic imperialism that is so often at the root of migration in the first place? Will we join forces with oppressed groups and their organizations to demand and work for change? Will we proclaim our liberal religious principles in the public square? We will do so even if it raises questions about our own middleclass privilege?
The President of our religious movement got himself arrested protesting an unjust immigration law in Arizona. Personally, I say, “more of that!” I believe there has never been a time that so cried out for us to assume the mantle of prophetic religion with renewed vigor and purpose.
Because we are losing our democracy.
Because we are killing our planet.
Before you diagnose me with “hyperbolic propensity syndrome”, allow me just a few minutes to explain why I do not think these are overly dramatic statements. Since the economic crash of 2008, economics professor Edward N. Wolf’s ongoing research revealed that wealth inequality in the United has actually increased even more sharply. The top 1% of wealth owners in the U.S. hold about 40% of all of our wealth; the top quintile hold almost 90%
Other research has found that wealth inequality is highly correlated with power inequality and political corruption. Further, such wealth inequality and corruption form an escalating cycle that threatens the viability of democratic government – wealth inequality begets corruption begets greater inequality begets greater corruption and on and on and on, until only the illusion of democracy remains.
In the U.S., fewer and fewer people own greater and greater percentages of corporate stocks, and corporations are amassing greater and greater power. After the recent Supreme Court decision allowing unlimited spending by corporations and other groups outside the political parties, spending by these groups totaled 135.3 million dollars in the 2010 elections – outside conservative groups spent 119.6 million, while outside liberal groups and unions spent 15.7 million.
Conservative politicians did somewhat better than did liberals, you might recall.
In reaction, democratic groups plan to try to match outside spending by conservatives in 2012. To do so, they too will rely on corporate wealth. By mid-February of this year, the presidential candidates and their Superpacs had already spent in excess of 69.6 million dollars. A recent study found that 30 of our largest companies now spend more on lobbying than they pay in federal taxes.
Wealth inequality begets corruption begets greater inequality. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Listen to what a Republican congressional staffer, who recently retired in disgust after almost 30 years has to say. Republican operative, Mike Lofgren states, quote — “Both parties are rotten – how could they not be, given the complete infestation of the political system by corporate money?… Both parties are captives to corporate loot.” End quote.
We are losing our democracy. Democracy is a core element of our religious principles — all that we as UUs value.
More and more, we face an Orwellian political system that promotes and affirms the inherent worth and dignity of the few over the many. We cannot hope for justice, equity and compassion if we allow our democratic process to be subverted in this way. There can be no peace, no liberty, no justice when such vast inequality is allowed to exist and increase.
But this unrestrained economic disparity of power is potentially even more destructive, even more threatening.
In their fascinating and sobering book, Moral Ground: Ethical Action for a Planet in Peril, editors Kathleen Dean Moore and Michael P. Nelson bring together essays written by people from throughout the world. With wisdom and expertise that varies from the scientific to the spiritual, they make a compelling case that any sense of ethics requires our immediate action on global climate change. They also paint a terrifying picture regarding the consequences of failing to act, such as:
Already, 40,000 people per week die of hunger-related illness worldwide. As global temperatures continue to rise, this is likely to get worse. 33 million acres of Canadian forest have died because it no longer gets cold enough in winter to kill the beetle that is killing the trees.
High-altitude glaciers that provide much of the drinking water in Asia, Latin America and the American West are disappearing. The U.S. Park Service estimates that by the year 2020, there will no longer be any glaciers in Glacier National Park.
The Great Barrier Reef may well be lifeless within two decades. Fifty percent of the world’s animals are in decline. One quarter of mammals face potential extinction, including elephants, humpback whales, gorillas, tigers and polar bears.
We have effectively ended the Holocene era of our planet, into which human civilization arose and during which countless life forms evolved and flourished. We have replaced it with an era of human-caused extinctions.
There is already no chance that we will leave to future generations, our children and grandchildren, a world as rich with life and possibility as the one we inherited.
We are quickly finding out that our 7th principle, that we affirm and promote respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part, goes much deeper and is much more sacred than we may have known – that our free and responsible search for truth and meaning can only exist within and through that web, not separately — not purely as individuals, but instead in communion with one another and with all that exists on this beautiful blue planet and beyond.
So, what more can we do? How do we sustain ourselves and have hope when the scientific predictions seem so huge, so overwhelming.
We can begin by realizing that the things I’ve mentioned that we are already doing are vital and must continue. The services and social action programs Unitarian Universalists are providing, both here in the U.S. and internationally are needed and wonderful. The actions of our congregations, as well as individual people within those congregations, to do what we can to conserve and protect our ecosystem are admirable. They are making a great difference in our world.
Today though, our world asks even more of us. Embracing again our movement as prophetic religion asks that we go even deeper — that we recognize that the corporatist undermining of western democracies and the escalating destruction of our planet’s sustainability are interrelated – that we name this malfeasance publicly and join with others to fight it. We must reaffirm the wisdom our UU sage, James Luther Adams, taught us about the “power of organization and the organization of power”.
Today, commercial, industrial and agricultural giants are producing more greenhouse emissions than all of the ecological conservation efforts of individual citizens combined can offset.
Today, industries so large that they are beyond our dissent, more powerful than most governments, are making decisions that will have tremendous effects on whether and what life survives on our planet in the future.
To have any meaningful influence will require that we engage with other religious groups and with secular and public policy organizations in ways that may have been uncomfortable to us in recent times. It will require that we engage with our more conservative friends in difficult but imaginative and necessary conversations. It will require that we find ways of harnessing the creativity and power of collective voices, making those voices heard, amplifying their strength.
I believe that we must walk a careful line, upholding the separation of church and state, yet realizing that our religious principles will be lived or not in the political arena.
As Sulak Sivaraska, cofounder of the International Association of Engaged Buddhists writes, “Politics without spirituality or ethics is blind. Spirituality without politics is simply inconsequential.”
Our Unitarian Universalist principles are calling us to the consequential. Our community’s values and mission compel us to act together out of compassion, out of love for one another and that sacred web of existence, with the courage to risk potential failure, despite the loss and the irreparable damage we witness. Climate change provides our greatest test so far of that compassion — of that love. It requires a people so bold.
Against all odds, we must still act. We must act to place love and community above market values and profit. We must proclaim our Unitarian Universalist beliefs beyond our church walls. We must act as if those values and principles — indeed the future of humanity and the beautiful world we inherited — depend upon it.
Because they do.
How many Unitarian Universalists does it take to change the world?
Every single last one of us, along with the many others who might join an invitation to reclaim paradise before it is lost, if only we were to engage with them. If only we were to be so bold.
May we be so. May we be that prophetic religion for our time.
Amen.
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
February 19, 2012
Susan B. Anthony was a Unitarian during the days of fighting for abolition and women’s suffrage. She was fierce and complicated, and her life is an inspiration.
Happy Susan B Anthony’s Birthday!
February 15
1820 – 1906
Susan B Anthony is surely in the pantheon of Unitarian and Universalist saints. Her father signed the book of the Rochester Unitarian Church, and the family attended there. Susan was persecuted, ridiculed and jailed, and she worked tirelessly for the rights of the powerless. She was intelligent, persistent, tireless, fierce and serene. Everything we admire. In our free faith tradition, one of the sources we draw from is “Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion, and the transforming power of love; ” I want to say we should all be like Susan B, but she had some things going for her that were powerful in her development and in her staying strong throughout her life. Some of us have those things and some don’t.
She worked first for the temperance movement. Drunkenness was an enormous problem in those days. Per capita consumption of alcohol was over seven gal. per capita. You have to keep in mind that most women didn’t drink at all then, most slaves didn’t drink, and no children were drunks, to speak of…. yet they were counted in that statistic. After Prohibition, by the way, that consumption went way down, and it is just now reaching seven gallons again after sixty years, but men and women of all colors drink now. I think most children still do not. Part of the problem with men drinking that much was not that it was immoral or icky to drink, but that the laws made males owners of all property in a marriage. They also owned the children, and always would get custody in a divorce. They also owned their wives and received any money their wives made.
If they were “bad to drink,” as we said in the South, they would drink up their paycheck and their wives paycheck. If they were the kind of drunk that would come home violent, they would hurt their wives and their kids and not much could be done about it at all. Beating your wife was not a crime in those days. All of the issues Anthony worked for flowed from her temperance work, as she campaigned for equal pay for equal work, for the right of women and African Americans to vote, for women to be able to get a divorce if she were abused, for women to have a chance at custody of her children, and for wives to be able to own property and keep their paychecks.
Susan Brownell Anthony was born in 1820. She didn’t like “Brownell” so she just always used “B.” She grew up in New York state in the midst of a Quaker family. One of the elements in her life that allowed her to be a confident crusader was that her father believed in her, loved her, and made sure she was educated at the same level as the males in the family. Having Daniel Anthony as the head of her household, growing up, gave her the experience of how much good a good man could do. Quakers believed that men and women were equal, that they thought and spoke and led equally well. Women helped run the meetings, and women had a say in all decisions.
Daniel Anthony sent his children to the town school until the school teacher refused to teach Susan long division. The thought at the time was that girls should be taught to read well enough to read their Bibles and taught enough arithmetic to count their egg money. Anthony brought the children home, started a school in his house and hired a teacher. When you are told, growing up, that you are smart and capable, when you are loved and admired by those who are in charge of you, it is much easier for you to be able to be smart and strong as an adult. Daniel Anthony believed in the work Susan was doing, and he supported her financially and emotionally. Her family helped her all her life, supplementing the fees she was paid as a lecturer and an organizer. When she was 20, Susan took a job teaching school from a fellow who had done poorly in the job. He had been paid $10.00 a week. She was paid $2.50.
Five years later, when she was 25, the family moved to Rochester, where they joined the Unitarian Church. When you join a Unitarian church you meet people who change your life. Rochester was a hotbed of abolitionist activity. The family befriended anti-slavery activists and former slaves. Susan was horrified to hear stories of the brutality and heartbreaking conditions of the lives of slaves, and she became more and more of an activist. Her family’s farm became more and more a center of anti-slavery activity. She grew more and more radical, along with her father and their friends. She was asked to be a paid abolitionist organizer, renting halls, hiring speakers, and publicizing meetings. She began speaking some herself, and she was good at it. She also liked it. You don’t have to do everything you’re good at, but if you’re good at it and you like it too, it’s pretty clear this is something you should do.
Susan spoke at a teacher’s convention, arguing, as a teacher, that both girls and boys should be taught, and that they should be taught together in the same room, that they could learn equally well, at equal speeds. She said there was not that much difference in their brains. It was thought by some in her day that women only had a certain amount of energy, and if they thought too hard and used their brains too much it would wither their reproductive parts. Clergy preached against the great social evil of educating boys and girls together. They said it would upset the balance of nature. What’s next, teaching our dogs and cats to read? When you study history you see that conservative religious voices, over and over, mouth what sounds from here like the most ridiculous claptrap. Those are the same voices now raised against same-sex marriage, saying “What’s next, we should be able to marry our dogs?” Liberal clergy from that time sound very much like voices from our time.
In the division that always, always happens when working for change, there were people saying “Don’t scare folks off by wanting everything all at once. Be reasonable.”
Susan B said “Shall I tell a man whose house in on fire to give a moderate alarm? Shall he moderately rescue his wife from a ravisher? Shall a mother moderately pull her baby from the fire it has fallen into?
In 1848, when she was 28 years old, the first Women’s Rights Convention was held in Seneca Falls, NY. She didn’t go. Local media had called it a hen convention, attended by cranks, hermaphrodites and atheists. Susan was shocked to find out that her father and lots of their friends supported the cause of women’s rights. They talked about that alongside the abolition of slavery Susan heard of the brilliant Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and hoped to meet her one day. When they did meet, they liked each other thoroughly and instantly. They were friends with Amelia Bloomer, who campaigned for more comfortable and sensible clothes for women. She wore an outfit that was called by her name. All three women wore those clothes for a couple of years, but they stopped when they realized it was keeping people from hearing anything they had to say. Clergy called the outfits devilish, and the press mocked them as women dressed like men.
It was not only women who were fighting against the destructive effects of alcoholism and addiction on families, who all went down together if the man of the family went down. The Sons of Temperance was a powerful political organization. Women were not allowed to join. There was a group called the Daughters of Temperance, an auxiliary group. Separate and unequal. Susan was a member of that group, one of their successful organizers and fund raisers. They elected her to represent them at a big conference in Albany NY in 1852. When she rose to make a point during a discussion, a buzz of outrage swept the hall. “The sisters,” shouted the chairman, “were not invited to speak, but to listen and learn!” Susan swept out of the room, followed by a few other women. Some other women stayed behind, disapproving. A few called the women who left “bold, meddlesome disturbers.” That very night Susan rented a hall and called her own meeting where women could speak. The room was cold and badly lit, and the stovepipe broke in the middle of Susan’s speech, but those who attended were energized and inspired. They decided to form a statewide convention. Susan was elected to head up that effort. She wrote hundreds of letters. Elizabeth Cady Stanton wrote speeches for her, and over five hundred women came to the conference they organized. “You stir up Susan,” Henry Stanton told Elizabeth, “and she stirs up the world.”
Their partnership lasted their whole lives, over fifty more years. Susan had more mobility, since she wasn’t caring for a household and children. Sometimes she would watch Stanton’s children while Stanton wrote her speeches. They always, no matter what they were writing and speaking about, spoke about the right of women to vote. They figured that would take care of both temperance and slavery. The women would vote correctly and abolish all evils. Susan and Elizabeth encouraged one another, kept one another radical. Her friendship with Elizabeth is the second element in her life that enabled her to be who she was. Without that partnership, as without the love and support of her family, Susan’s story would probably have been a very different one.
After organizing this convention where five hundred women attended, Susan and Elizabeth were invited to the next Sons of Temperance convention. When they arrived they found that they would not even now be allowed to speak. Clergy men stood up and protested that they would not sit with these females. Anthony and Amelia Bloomer refused to leave. One delegate shouted that they were not women, but some hybrid species, half woman half man. Another man said that they had no business disrupting temperance meetings with their dreadful doctrines of women’s rights, divorce and atheism. Anthony held a petition with ten thousand signatures she had gathered. Within minutes the two women had been thrown out, bodily.
As she lectured and traveled, some newspapers would attack her personally, calling her repulsive and ugly, saying that she was laboring under strong feelings of hatred towards men. She must have been neglected by men, and she was jealous. The third time Anthony and Stanton were rejected by the main temperance group, they disengaged from that group for the next 20 years. “We have other, bigger fish to fry,” said Stanton serenely. They began working on securing property rights for women. If women could own things, they could be free of abusive marriages. Maybe also if they had money, the legislature would listen to them better. They worked on that for the next eight years, until 1860. Anthony went door to door and town to town, gathering signatures on petitions, enduring snowstorms and ridicule, sleeping in cold farm houses and inns, going before the state legislatures everywhere she went. In 1860 the NY legislature passed the married women’s property act, enabling married women to own property, keep her own wages, not subject to the control or interference of her husband, enter into contracts, and have shared custody of her children. Many other states followed suit, changing the lives of millions of women.
Some of the suffragists, in years to come, were embarrassed by the radical things Susan B Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton did. ECS wrote “The Women’s Bible,” mercilessly asking questions about the portrayal of women in the Bible, questions that would offend and upset most people even in this day and age. Harriet Beecher Stowe refused to write for Anthony’s newspaper, The Revolution, unless she named it something less aggressive.
Anthony rode stagecoaches, delivered speeches, and endured hardships until late in her 70’s. Until her father’s death, she had his full support. Until Stanton’s death, that partnership and support sustained her. She never married, never had children. Women’s rights, abolition, temperance, these were her passions and her life’s work.
She didn’t live to see women get the vote, in 1920. She did vote, though. In the 1872 election she voted illegally, she and a few other women. She was arrested, tried, and convicted. She was hoping to appeal, as the judge wouldn’t let the jury speak, and he instructed them to find her guilty. Her fine was 100 dollars. She told him, “You have trampled underfoot every vital principle of our government. My natural rights, my political rights, my civil rights, my judicial rights are all alike ignored. I will not pay a penny of your unjust fine.” As he shouted for her to be quiet and sit down, she kept talking. “I shall urgently and persistently continue to urge all women to the practical recognition of the old revolutionary maxim that ÔResistance to tyranny is obedience to God.'”
We can learn how to make social change from Susan B: Five easy steps:
1. Trust yourself. What feels wrong to you is probably wrong.
2. Get mad. Anger is a good fuel for action. Try to get mad at the right person or the right institution, as Aristotle said. “It is easy to fly into a passion – anybody can do that. But to be angry with the right person and to the right extent and at the right time and with the right object and in the right way – that is not easy, and it is not everyone who can do it.”
3. Work to change things. Don’t just complain. Find out how to change things and start trying.
4. Lean on a friend. Have relationships, partnerships in making change.
5. Know how things work. Here is how they work: First they ignore you, then they ridicule you. Then they fight you, then they agree. Later, they say they agreed with you all along. If you know how it works, when they call you a man hater or ugly or repulsive or they say you’re not patriotic or ask what’s next, I’m going to marry my dog? You can know they have been doing it this way forever. Keep fighting.
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
February 12, 2012
Our fifth Principle talks about liberty and justice for all, with a goal of world community. How are we supposed to get this done?
How would you sit down to eat a car? Knife and fork? Hacksaw? Ketchup? Hot sauce? Would you circle the vehicle a couple of times, figuring out where to start? Would you drink a nice lemonade with the upholstery? What about the more metallic meals? White or red wine? That would probably depend on whether it was a meaty truck like a Dodge Ram or a fishier Plymouth Barracuda. Eating a car is something that would take commitment, time, planning. It would take a special mind to think of doing it.
Our sixth principle is like that. It says that we, as UUs, agree to affirm (say yes to,) and promote (try to get more people to say yes to) the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all. That’s really big. It makes a person think the framers of the principles were getting tired at the end there, and that they just wrote one that was the equivalent of “well, we want the whole world to be okay, everything else plus that big freezer in the garage.” What do you do with a principle that large and unwieldy?
There is a funny short film on youtube with the title “The Man Who Ate a Car,” and it opens with him talking in his kitchen.
“A car is just the sum of its parts, and a lot of the parts aren’t that big, just a couple of inches across. 75% of the parts of an automobile are a couple of inches across and half an inch deep. That’s the size of an Oreo cookie. And the ones that are too big, you just machine down, smooth out.”
Most of us don’t have time, in the biggest part of our lifespan, to do much for the world. We are busy making a living, raising children, maintaining the relationships we choose, taking care of our health and strength or adjusting to its loss. It’s hard to find time and energy for leaving the world a better place. Ralph Waldo Emerson said a successful life was to leave the world ” a little bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you live…” Many of us do that. I am beginning to know some of the stories of a good number of people in this room and I can tell you there are many people here who will leave the world a little better than they found it. Lives have breathed easier because you have lived. What will you be known for when you are gone?
Unitarians and Universalists have thrown their life energies in with the forces of change over the centuries. Many Unitarians and Universalists worked in the Abolitionist Movement to overthrow slavery. Many have worked in the Civil Rights struggle. Unitarian Horace Mann organized the public school system Universalist Clara Barton founded the Red Cross. Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes was led by his liberal faith to a much more inclusive interpretation of the law. Thomas Starr King (after whom one of the UU seminaries, the one in Berkley, is named) was inspired to fight the California legislature for continued land rights of Mexicans. Jane Hull founded Hull House in Chicago, and began to professionalize social workers; moving caring for the poor from religious institutions that often pressured you to convert to get care, to non-religiously affiliated professionals. Roger Baldwin was led to establish the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). May Sarton wrote poetry inspiring her readers with truth and beauty.
Social action, politics and art are some ways we can make the world a better place. Most of us, in the ordinary course of our lives, are doing it by being loving family members, teaching our children strong values of usefulness, tolerance, open minded curiosity, kindness, knowledge, wisdom, and love. We teach the children in the church, we care for our grandchildren, we cook for people and visit them when they need company. We make the world a better place by being good friends, by trying to behave correctly and do the right things. Do those actions bring about world community with peace, liberty and justice for all? We can barely make justice within our own church, our own families. How can we heal the whole world?
This principle is over-large, and it sits there, parked in the driveway of every UU who is resolving to live the faith.
“This is a long term activity,” says the man who ate the car. “Look, it took five years. I ate my first two lug nuts on Dec 30, 1990 — finished the last piece of the clutch housing on Feb 14 1995.” Compared to a task with no beginning, no middle and no end, eating a car sounds almost easy.
World community, with peace, liberty and justice for all is too big a goal. When my goals are that big, I get overwhelmed. When a person is overwhelmed, they are stressed, crabby, emotionally less stable and sleepy. The principles certainly aren’t supposed to do that to us. When a rule is too hard to follow, it’s just begging to be ignored. When a goal is too big, it’s just begging to slide down the priority list behind every other thing in the world that can be accomplished.
Overwhelm burns us out. When we can’t get anywhere, when the things we do accomplish seem so insignificant compared to what we are supposed to be accomplishing that we feel they are nothing. We don’t want the sixth principle to make us feel that all our small efforts are insignificant. What I learned about setting goals is that you are supposed to make a goal from something you can control. Instead of saying “I’m going to be a catalyst for change like Barbara Jordan was!” you might say “I’m going to change one thing ——about myself—- this week.” That you can do, usually. Instead of saying, “My goal is to be a millionaire,” you make a goal of saving a certain amount of your income, or of living within your means day by day, or just or writing down what you spend. Goals should be measurable. Did I do it or not? They should be attainable. We can say that we have a goal to do some action every day to make the world a better place. Most of us, just by living the principles and trying to be good people, are doing that. We can take the red heart from our bulletin and write a kind and loving note to someone who wants to get married and can’t do it in TX yet. The notes will be delivered on Valentines Day to the people who are going to the office on Airport Rd. to ask for licenses. Or you can get some food after church and take it to the Pecan Area of Zilker park where the Occupy folks have invited us and others for a picnic.
One good purpose that can be served by an extra-large, unattainable goal, though, is that it is a measuring stick we can hold up to the various situations and decisions we face as we move through our lives. “Is this going to be more or less like world community?” You might ask yourself. “Will this make more peace, more liberty, more justice, or less?” A good large measuring stick can help as choices come up.
Let’s take that sixth principle little by little, and let’s take our time. Take a big important stand or do something small every day, or both. Just keep it in mind. Look at your home, your work, your church through its windshield. Machine those pieces down until they are the size of an Oreo cookie. Then make them part of supper.
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
February 5, 2012
In the Christian scriptures is a story about Rabbi Jesus doing a miracle where 5,000 hungry people were fed. It began with a boy offering to share what he had. What kind of miracle was it? What is its message for us?
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
January 29, 2012
The choir performs three of Kiya Heartwood’s choral works and Meg Barnhouse collaborates with readings. Science is showing us that we are all related to an African woman we call Mitochondrial Eve, and we can trace each person’s ancestry through their mother’s mitochondrial DNA, from mother to mother, all the way back to one of 26 “daughters of Eve.”
SERMON:
Music for the “Afri-Kin” service is called “A Balance of Earth and Sky,” composed by Kiya Heartwood (see program notes below)
I. Gloria (A Hymn to the Queen of Heaven)
This piece is honor of Mitochondrial or “African Eve”, our Homo sapiens common ancestor. Eve lived at least 200,000 years ago in East Africa and all humans are her descendants through their mitochondrial DNA (mt DNA). All humans share one common African ancestor and all women carry a strand of her DNA. This theory is supported in many books including Seven Daughters of Eve by Brian Sykes
II. Rivers of Grass
Homo sapiens descendants of Eve began migrating out of Africa to populate the rest of the world sometime between 95,000- 45,000 years ago. These daughters of Eve carry the gradual mutations necessary for survival in different climates and topography. These people moved on to new lands because of climate changes, floods, wars, droughts, and plain curiosity. We are all descended from these daughters of Mitochondrial Eve. We honor their perseverance and strength and we carry these traits into the next generations.
III. The Beauty Way.
This piece is based on a Navajo ceremonial chant that brings back balance and harmony into the celebrants’ lives. By honoring the connections to our common ancestors we remind ourselves that we are the sons and daughters of Eve and we are all related.
PROGRAM NOTES
“A Balance of Earth and Sky”
is three song cycle of praise and connection written by composer/singer songwriter Kiya Heartwood for mixed chorus and piano. This work was commissioned by the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Princeton’s Music Ministry for the UUCP choir in 2011.
“A Balance of Earth and Sky” is a musical ceremony for centering and balance.
The pieces include: “Gloria”, “Rivers of Grass” and “The Beauty Way”.
I. Gloria (A Hymn to the Queen of Heaven) …. Gloria
II. Rivers of Grass
I am grass like an ocean, rivers of mountains, choirs of stone. ( Begin again.)
I am wise as the raven, strong as the horses running for home. ( Begin again.) We dance down through the ages mother to mother, never alone. ( Begin again.)
Begin. begin again. Begin. Begin again. Begin again.
I am grass like an ocean, rivers of mountains, choirs of stone.
Rivers of mountains, choirs of stone.
Choirs of stone.
III. The Beauty Way (Based on the Navajo Beauty Way Ceremony)
Oh Beauty! Oh Beauty!
In beauty may I walk.
Through the returning season may I walk.
Grasshoppers at my feet. A sky of joyful birds.
On the trail of sacred pollen may I walk.
Beauty before me. Beauty behind me. Beauty above me.
Beauty all around.
In my youth may I walk.
In my age may I walk.
In beauty, it is finished.
In beauty, it is finished.
In beauty, we begin, again.
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Marisol Caballero
January 22, 2012
Marisol Caballero reflects on the symbolism of the Virgin of Guadalupe as a feminine image of the Divine. How may this “goddess”, native to the Americas, speak to us, as Unitarian Universalists, as well as unite diverse populations in compassion, perseverance, and justice?
When I was a very young infant, before I would fully focus on faces or follow sounds much, I am told that I would stare in the direction of a statue that my mother had on her dresser of the Virgin of Guadalupe. No matter where I was in the room, I would try to turn toward that statue. My mom tells me it was the weirdest thing and that visitors to our house would often comment on it, saying that it looked as if I was communicating with her in some way. This may be hyperbole, but it makes for a nice story. And, part of me likes to believe a little that I was born with a special affinity for the Lady, that she drew my eyes to her as she continues to draw my heart, and that a child development specialist can’t easily explain this story away. No, I don’t truly believe that a statue has super powers, nor am I a closet Catholic- in fact I was have been attending UU churches since age two, but there exists a subversive yet compassionate power in the story and symbolism of the Virgin of Guadalupe that transcends religion and that strengthens my faith.
It isn’t often that we hear about traditionally Catholic imagery from our Unitarian Universalist pulpits but as a Chicana from Texas, my cultural connection to her runs deep. Just like each of us, my personal and cultural history influences my worldview and my theology, but I choose to speak from this perspective not because I wish to exoticize my story and my ministry or to become a novelty act. I choose to share such cultural expressions because it is my authentic starting point. One of my professors at seminary, Dr. James Cone, used to remind us in class that, “to do theology, you have to start where you’re at. You must speak from your unique vantage point.”
The image and symbolism of the Virgin of Guadalupe has much to offer UU’s personally, of all backgrounds and genders, as we struggle to equalize the playing fields, seeking justice for the oppressed, and as we strive toward greater compassion in our daily lives, not to mention as we also endeavor to create a more multicultural Unitarian Univeraslism. But, before she can be understood as a universal emblem, the Virgin of Guadalupe must be understood, as her Mexican people know her.
As we learned in the story of her apparition to Juan Diego, the Virgin appeared in solidarity with the marginalized indigenous population. She chose Juan Diego, a poor Aztec, to carry her message. She spoke to him in his language, not the language of the oppressors, from which Christianity had been taught to the Indians. She had brown skin. She wore Aztec astrological imagery on her robe. She was one who they could identify with because she looked like them. She was one of them and still remains so. Most importantly, she does not allow the marginalized to feel inferior. She raises the self-worth of the Mexican people with a mother’s compassion and offers her protection in their struggle.
The Mexican people, and those of Mexican descent, are a mix of various indigenous, Spanish (and other European), and African people. They speak many native languages in addition to Spanish, and many Mexican-Americans (Chicanos) speak no Spanish at all. Before the legendary apparition of the Virgin of Guadalupe, most Christian conversions had been made at the end of a Spanish steel sword. Mary had the effect of uniting the old and the new. She was a fusion of the indigenous and of the oppressor, much like the blood running through the veins of those she calls her children. She offered a means by which her people could retain their cultural identity with pride- with respect to the need for self-preservation amidst a violent theocracy.
This Mary continues to be such a means of synthesis for Mexicans and those of Mexican descent today. She unifies us as a cultural icon, no matter our language, religion, dialect or gender. She is our common mother, our loving ancestor. She is called by many names, among them are: Mother of Mexico, Mother of the Americas, (Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe) Our Lady of Guadalupe, and my great-grandmother- the matriarch of our family- called her affectionately, mi morenita (my little dark-skinned lady). She remains a symbol of strength for her marginalized people for after all, even if her story is only a myth, it reminds us that we are worthy of unconditional love.
In our science-minded culture, we say things like “only a myth”, as if myths were powerless things, when we have learned that myths are, in fact, values and ideals in the embryonic stage. Religions and nations alike were built on myths. (Remember George Washington and the cherry tree?) But, the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe is a revolutionary myth in that it offers us a woman (and a woman of color, no less!) as our champion! Maria de Guadalupe offers us all another way to imagine God. She is a feminine alternative.
Many White feminists have historically rejected her image, misunderstanding her due to centuries of misogynistic false interpretations. She has been said to be the reason that so many women dislike themselves, since she has been lifted up as the ideal of womanhood while women are simultaneously told that her perfection is unattainable. She has been accused of keeping women meek and silently obedient, since her eyes are cast downward. She has also been misinterpreted as a proponent of joyfully bearing one’s suffering, regardless of the hardship it may cause us and those we love. Some school districts have even banned her image on t-shirts, claiming ties to gang violence.
Latinas, however, have long known that although for centuries many have tried to pervert the image of Guadalupe in an effort to keep us in a subjugated place, most of us never truly bought it. She is quite the opposite. She is our Rosie the Riveter. Instead of being an ideal of womanhood that is unachievable, we can emulate her willingness to stand up to power and demand that the oppressed be recognized. We view her downcast eyes as a representation of her gentle, loving spirit and she is not silenced easily- she persistently appeared to Juan Diego three times before the Bishop recognized him. She did not accept him backing down and inspired in him the courage to persevere. To Christian Latinas, she is more accessible than a Father God or His divine Son, Jesus.
Dolores Huerta, co-founder with Cesar Chavez of the United Farm Workers union, heroine of the Chicano Civil Rights Movement, and single mother of eleven, says, “I don’t think I could have survived without her. She is a symbol of faith, hope and leadership. She has been incorporated into everything we do,” she said, “If she’s not there, you notice her absence right away.” Mexicans and Chicanos have carried her image in just about every rally, march, picket, protest, and even battle for centuries. Anywhere there are people of Mexican decent advocating for social justice for their communities, chances are, the Virgin of Guadalupe’s image will be there as well. In fact, I was not at all shocked when, in some of the media coverage of the many nationwide protests of the hateful new Arizona immigration law, marchers have been carrying images and statues of her. No doubt the thought of a compassionate and persevering feminine representation of the divine is bringing strength to those in fear of what this law’s implementation may bring (or, has already brought) to their lives and to their families and communities.
In her essay, “Latinas and Religion: Subordination or State of Grace?”, Laura M. Padilla tells us that,
“The Virgin’s model allows us to discard the notion that we must accept our suffering with dignity, thus freeing us to turn our attention to how to alleviate that suffering, regardless of whether it consists of physical, emotional, economic, or spiritual abuseÉ [she] also turns from a top-down hierarchy where God speaks and we listen, to a model where we mutually communicate with compassionÉ [and] shows Latinas how to incorporate [our spirituality] into our lives in a holistic way that is not based on hierarchy, opposition, intolerance or superiority. Rather, she points us to a framework that incorporates the feminine, not to the exclusion of the masculine, but in balance with it.”
In the story, she chose to appear before a man, Juan Diego, demonstrating that although she is “divinely” feminine, she exists for men, as well. Men can also both be mothered by and guided by her, while also learning to emulate her maternal attributes of tender nurturance yet strong advocacy for one’s family. For Guadalupe, this family does not begin and end with bloodlines. Our family is made of up humanity, itself, for we are interconnected. The marginalized and the oppressor are both of her concern, as she reaches for the heart of the wealthy Bishop through the experience of the impoverished Juan Diego. Men may follow the example of her symbolism not only as the sons, husbands, fathers, and brothers of woman, but also as members of the human family who recognize that ignoring the suffering of others prohibits the privileged from realizing their full humanity.
In this way, the Virgin of Guadalupe has relevance and meaning not only for all genders, but I would argue, all people. In the way that the image and symbolism of the Virgin of Guadalupe transcends religion, language, gender, and national borders, she also transcends race. Just as she unites the diverse people of Mexican descent in a common cultural identity, so may she unite the world to a common cause of justice, of working to end all forms of oppression. Although she will always be the treasured product of the Mexican people, the strength of her symbolism has the potential to reach anyone looking for a loving yet righteously angry, gentle yet fierce, and patient yet persistent ally in the struggle.
As UU’s, so often we begin our prayers to “God of many names”. In the Virgin of Guadalupe, we recognize that one name for God is “Mother”. The feminine divine does exist in many traditions: Hindus have Kali, Lakshmi and others, Buddhists have Tara and Kwan Yin, and pagans may call her Gaea or Great Mother, to name just a few. The Virgin of Guadalupe is the manifestation of the feminine divine for this continent. She is our native goddess, Mother of the Americas, and offers the world her love, encouragement, and protection both to those who view her as a powerful symbol as well as to those who view her as a supernatural being with intercessory abilities.
Next time you see a candle, a keychain, a mural, or anything else that her ever-so-pervasive image adorns, see her for who she is to her people and who she can be for all- a powerful symbol of compassion, fortitude, and justice. Not a cultural cliche or tacky kitsch, but a reminder that we shall overcome, that Si Se Puede (Yes, it can be done), for she is Mary, Mary, Quite Revolutionary!
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Rev. Peter Morales
President of the Unitarian Universalist Association
January 15, 2012
Audio of this service does not include the music and some of the readings due to technical constraints. An unabridged video of the complete service can be purchased from our bookstore.
Podcasts of sermons are also available for free on iTunes.
Call to Celebration:
Rev. Bret Lortie, Minister, First UU Church of San Antonio
Chalice Lighting:
Reading:
Exerpt from The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
Read by Rev. Kathleen Ellis, Co-Minister, Live Oak UU Church
O! You bad little thing! — said the woman, teasing her baby granddaughter. “Is Buddha teaching you to laugh for no reason?” As the baby continued to gurgle, the woman felt a deep wish stirring in hear heart. “Even if I could live forever,” she said to the baby, “I still don’t know which way I would teach you. I was once so free and innocent. I too laughed for no reason. But later I threw away my foolish innocence to protect myself. And then I taught my daughter, your mother, to shed her innocence so she would not be hurt as well. Little one, was this kind of thinking wrong?… ” The baby laughed, listening to her grandmother’s laments.
“O! O! you say you are laughing because you have already lived forever, over and over again? You say you are the Queen Mother of the Western Skies. now come back to give me the answer Good, good. I am listening . . . Thank you, little Queen. And you must teach my daughter this same lesson. How to lose your innocence but not your hope. How to laugh forever.”
Welcome:
Susan Thomson, President-Elect First UU Church of Austin
Greetings from the Austin Community:
State Representative Donna Howard
Reading:
Excerpt from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard
Read by Rev. Eliza Galaher, Wildflower UU Church
When the doctor took her bandages off and led her into the garden, the girl who was no longer blind saw “the tree with the lights in it.” It was for this tree I searched through the peach orchards of summer, in the forests of fall and down winter and spring for years. Then one day I was walking along Tinker Creek thinking of nothing at all and I saw the tree with the lights in it. I saw the backyard cedar where the mourning doves roost charged and transfigured, each cell buzzing with flame. I stood on the grass with the lights in it, grass that was wholly fire, utterly focused and utterly dreamed. It was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance. The lights of the fire abated, but I’m still spending the power. Gradually the lights went out in the cedar, the colors died, the cells unflamed and disappeared. I was still ringing. I had my whole life been a bell, and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck. I have since only rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it, for the moment when the mountains open and a new light roars in spate through the crack, and the mountains slam.
Greetings from the Southwest UU Conference
Jennifer Nichols, District Director for Lifespan Faith Development
Charge to the Congregation
Andrea Lerner, DE Metro NY District
Reading:
Credo by Judith Roche
Read by Sharon Moore and Michael Kersey,
Co-Chairs of the Ministerial Search Committee
I believe in the cave paintings at Lascaux,
the beauty of the clavicle,
the journey of the salmon,
her leap up any barrier,
the scent of home waters
she finds through celestial navigation.
I believe in all the gods –
I just don’t like some of them.
I believe the war is always against the imagination,
is recurring, repetitive, and relentless.
I believe in fairies, elves, angels and bodisatvas,
Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.
I have seen and heard ghosts.
I believe that Raven invented the Earth
And so did Coyote. In archeology
lie the clues. The threshold is numinous
and the way in is the way out.
I believe in the alphabets – all of them –
and the stories seeping from their letters.
I believe in dance as prayer, that the heart
beat invented rhythm and chant -.
or is it the other way around –
I believe in the wisdom of the body.
I believe that art saves lives
and love makes it worth living them.
And that could be the other way around, too.
Offering for the Unitarian Universalist Association
Laurel Amabile
Sermon:
Peter Morales, President, Unitarian Universalist Association
Act of Installation:
Susan Thomson, President-Elect
Charge to the Minister
Kiya Heartwood
Reading:
Fearing Paris by Marsha Truman Cooper
Read by Rev. Daniel O’Connell, Minister, First UU Church of Houston
Suppose that what you fear
could be trapped
and held in Paris.
Then you would have
the courage to go
everywhere in the world.
All the directions of the compass
open to you,
except the degrees east or west
of true north
that lead to Paris.
Still, you wouldn’t dare
put your toes
smack dab on the city limit line.
You’re not really willing
to stand on a mountainside,
miles away,
and watch the Paris lights
come up at night.
Just to be on the safe side
you decide to stay completely
out of France.
But then the danger
seems too close
even to those boundaries,
and you feel
the timid part of you
covering the whole globe again.
You need the kind of friend
who learns your secret and says,
“See Paris First.”
Reading:
We have not come to take prisoners by Hafiz
Read by Brian Ferguson, Minister, San Marcos UU Fellowship
We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,
Come out and play.”
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom and
Light!
Benediction:
The Fountain by Denise Levertov
Read by Rev. Meg Barnhouse
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts.
I have seen
the fountain springing out of the rock wall
and you drinking there. And I too
before your eyes
found footholds and climbed
to drink the cool water.
The woman of that place, shading her eyes,
frowned as she watched – but not because
she grudged the water,
only because she was waiting
to see we drank our fill and were
refreshed.
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water.
That fountain is there among its scalloped
green and gray stones,
it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,
up and out through the rock.
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
January 15, 2012
How can we begin to dismantle racism in our hearts and minds? How can we dismantle it in the structures of our society? Are all humans racist when they are born? What transformations might we hope for?
OUT OF A MOUNTAIN OF DESPAIR, A STONE OF HOPE
There is a lot I don’t understand about racism. If I were to talk about all the things I don’t know, we would be here a lot longer than we want to be, so I will talk about some of the things I do know. I know that every group on earth is racist about some other group. Here is what they all say:” They are dirty and lazy. They don’t want to work. They are over emotional and their religion is strange. Their brains are smaller– they just can’t think the way we do, so they are better at hands-on work — as long as you tell them exactly what to do. They will hurt children and women.” That is the Japanese talking about Koreans, whom they traditionally have despised.
It’s the he Northern Italians talking about the Southern Italians, the people or Northern India talking about the Southern Tamil Indians. In Sri Lanka the Tamils hate the Singhalese. Moslems and Hindus slaughtered each other in 1947, as Pakistan and Bangladesh were being partitioned off from India. More than a million Hindus and Muslims were killed during the partition. Malaysians hate the Chinese. The Serbs hate the Croats. The Czechs hate the Slovaks. In Africa, the Hutus hate the Tutsis and slaughter each other. Right now the Tutsis are in power, but that will change, as it has before. In Nigeria the Hausa hate the Ibo. Sunni and Shiite Moslems war with one another in Iraq. In Syria, there are families and clans that hate each other. In Darfur, in the Sudan, the Arab-identifying Muslim nomadic Sudanese are slaughtering the non-Arab identifying Muslim sedentary Sudanese. The Israelis hate the Arabs. Will it always be this way? What has to change?
We try anti-racism training, with mixed results. We learn about the way we use language: we talk about darkness as evil and bad, we use the color black to symbolize negative things. “A black mood,” “a black-hearted person.” I was with a group of ministers doing an art project. We were making collages to symbolize our lives. One woman had colored an area of her page dark brown. She said, “This area symbolizes my depression. I learned in anti-racism training not to use black, so I’m using dark brown instead.” Bless our hearts.
To overcome racism, I have to learn to read another human’s face and watch their behavior before I can tell what kind of person they are. Their skin tone is one important thing about a person. Some people who go through anti-ism training say “I just don’t even see what people’s skin color is.” Well, you need to, because it’s an important part of who they are. One part. Like being gay, or being able-bodied, or being tall. One part of who you are. We want to work towards seeing one another as individual humans, reserved or out-going, structured or flexible, buoyant or grounded, excitable or calm. Those qualities come in all colors
That’s one thing we can do as individuals, and although it is arduous, it feels easier to me than dealing with institutional racism, which is one of the other things we have to fix. In his book Dismantling Racism, Joseph Barndt defines racism as “prejudice plus power.” Hispanics and Blacks have strained relations, Koreans and Blacks live in mutual mistrust in the cities of the Northeast. But none of those groups has the power to create a system that is the embodiment of those ideas. This is the point at which I can fall asleep if I want to. I don’t have to care about this. I have the luxury, being light-skinned, not to care or think about this. Not having to face it is one of the privileges I enjoy because of being white.
European Americans have most of the power in the economy and the government. We also have tremendous power in the schools and the service industries Barndt says our institutions are racist because the power behind them is White, and therefore they perpetuate white European values. . I don’t notice it, and I want to believe people who say “Aw, it’s not really that way.” None of the solutions we are currently trying seem to work well. There is some legislation that is working over time, but there are those working to dismantle that legislation as we speak. More long meetings where blacks and whites meet to talk don’t feel like a solution to me. I’ve been to enough of those. I have thought of an instant way to bring it into stark relief for myself and all of Austin. I believe with this plan institutionalized racism in our nation would be wiped out within years.
How would I do this? Imagine this solution: How about we pass legislation that would mandate that all children, in their tenth and eleventh years, do a two-year “exchange-student” program in other neighborhoods of their town. Your child might end up on a golf course or in a housing project. It would teach, enlighten, terrify and annoy all of us.
Be comforted in knowing that it won’t ever happen, but be aware of the feelings it brings up.
Do you think that would encourage the middle-class people of all to come up with housing improvements? Do you think that would encourage us to provide drug treatment for addicted mothers so their children would have a chance at life? And so their children wouldn’t make our lives hell during the time they were with us? I have to say I would in no way want that legislation passed, and the vehemence with which I do not want my children in a “bad neighborhood” tells me something important about the situation. This would counteract the anesthesia that we give ourselves so as not to notice the conditions spawned by institutional and cultural racism. That fantasy proposal woke me right up. I have privileges and so do my children that a non-white woman and her children do not have. I don’t have to worry about cashing a check. I don’t have to train my sons to be wary of officers of the law. There are so many things I don’t have to worry about since my sons have light skin.
None of us in here wants to be racist. We don’t like to think of ourselves that way. But most of us do participate unthinkingly in white privilege. This is not something to wallow in guilt about. Wallowing in guilt makes you stupid and drains your energy. You don’t think well. You don’t want to face the people who don’t have the privileges you do. White privilege is something to notice. This is not something non white people can or should have to help white people with. This is white people’s responsibility. In our UU churches, bless our hearts, it is not uncommon for the people of color who come in our doors to be approached about being on the anti-racism committee. It happens sometimes that when a black person joins the choir, suddenly the repertoire changes to include more gospel songs, even if that particular black person prefers Chopin or country.
Dr.. King said in his “I have a dream” speech “we shall hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.” The racism in our world certainly could weigh on a person like a mountain of despair.
I have thought a lot about despair and hope. I’ve been wondering about that image of a stone of hope. It comes from the mountain of despair, so it’s made of the same stuff. How can that be?
The thing that despair and hope have in common is the vision of a better future. A necessary component of despair is knowing that things aren’t what they should be. To feel that, you need a vision of what things should be. Despair is when the vision of what should be combines with the weight of what is and threatens to overwhelm you. You can’t see how to get there. You can’t believe things will ever be better. Despair is giving up. The antedote to despair is that we just take a little piece of that mountain, and the piece we take is the vision of how things could be.
We all know that, if all you have is a sense of how things should be, you can be one miserable human being. In ancient Greek mythology, when Pandora opened the container and let all the evils fly out into the world, she slammed the lid shut with just one left inside. What was it? Hope. What was hope doing among the evils of the world? Hesiod said it was because hope is empty and no good, and it takes away people’s industriousness. Friedrich Nietzsche said ” Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man.” Yes, hoping without action is foolish, if an action can be taken.
Rita Mae Brown says “Never hope more than you work.” That’s what those people in Ohio were doing. Hoping and working. That’s what the people who believed in Dr. King’s vision did. They held the vision and they worked. Maybe stone is just the right size for hope. Maybe the rest of what we work with is clarity, reason, facing the elements of our lives and those of others with open eyes.
Maybe stone is just the right material for hope. Dr. King did not say “Out of the mountain of despairs we mine a jewel of hope.” It is not something rare and precious we find within the despair, covered, held and hidden in there. Maybe stone is just the right value for hope. Stone is ancient, far more ancient than humanity, and it’s everywhere. It’s common. We can lose hope over and over and just pick up more anywhere. You can throw hope away in a fit of rage and loss of spirit, then just pick up another piece.
Maybe stone is just the right hardness for hope too. Hope has to be tough. One of my friends said at a twelve step meeting her sponsor handed her a stone and said, “Any time you feel like taking a drink, put this in your mouth. When it dissolves, go ahead and have a drink.”
We hold on to our hope. Find yours, and live with it in your pocket, in the palm of your hand. What do you hope for? Hope, and we do what we can do make things better The most important thing is that we do it together.
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
January 8, 2012
Our fifth principle talks about affirming and promoting the democratic process in our congregations. Does that mean every voice should be heard? How should it be heard?
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
January 1, 2012
Your life is a sacred story. That story didn’t begin with your birth, it began before that. You began with your grandmother, with your Uncle Jim, with the stories told at the supper table, with the family fortune that was won and lost, with the lifestyle they had, and the one they felt they should have had. By the time the story of your birth, your adoption or your fostering unfolds, already much of who you are is in place.
A sacred story has miracles, trials, lessons, triumphs and tragedies. Each life in this room has all of those. You make your own life as you go along. You made seventeen choices a day that shape where you are now. Did you know those choices were part of your sacred story?
Among the choices you make are what to hold on to and what to let go. That is what we are doing this morning. I am going to ask you to think about what you want to hold onto as you move forward into this year and what you want to let go. It might be an event, a habit, something you regret. Sometimes we hang onto things because we think we have to – that if we let them go we will dishonor the parent who taught it to us, or that it will make us a bad person if we don’t keep punishing ourselves for something we did. Maybe we keep hold of things just because we don’t know that we can let them go. Or sometimes we think we’ll hurt someone if we let go.
The Bridge
A Metaphor
There was a man who had given much thought to what he wanted from life. He had experienced many moods and trials. He had experimented with different ways of living, and he had had his share of both success and failure. At last, he had begun to see clearly where he wanted to go.
Diligently, he searched for the right opportunity. Sometimes he came close, only to be pushed away. Often the applied all of his strength and imagination, only to find the path hopelessly blocked. And then at last it came! But the opportunity would not wait. It would be made available only for a short time. If it were seen that he was not committed, the opportunity would not come again. Eager to arrive, he started on his journey. With each step, he wanted to move faster; with each thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed vigor. Strength that had left it since his early youth returned, and desires, all kinds of desires, reawakened from their long-dormant positions.
Hurrying along, he came upon a bridge that crossed through the middle of a town. It had been built high above a river in order to protect it from the floods of spring.
He started across. Then he noticed someone coming from the opposite direction. As they moved closer, it seemed as though the other was coming to greet him. He could clearly see, however, that he did not know this other, who was dressed similarly except for something tied around his waist.
When they were within hailing distance, he could see that what the other had about his waist was a rope. It was wrapped around him many times and probably, if extended, would reach a length of 30 feet.
The other began to uncurl the rope, and, just as they were coming close, the stranger said, “Pardon me, would you be so kind as to hold the end a moment?” Surprised by this politely phrased but curious request, he agreed without a thought, reached out, and took it.
“Thank you,” said the other, who then added, “two hands now, and remember, hold tight.” Whereupon, the other jumped off the bridge.
Quickly, the free-falling body hurtled the distance of the rope’s length, and from the bridge, the man abruptly felt the pull. Instinctively, he held tight and was almost dragged over the side. He managed to brace himself against the edge, however, and after having caught his breath looked down at the other dangling, close to oblivion.
“What are you trying to do?” he yelled. “Just hold tight,” said the other “This is ridiculous,” the man thought and began trying to haul the other in. He could not get the leverage, however. It was as though the weight of the other person and the length of the rope had been carefully calculated in advance so that together they created a counterweight just beyond his strength to bring the other back to safety.
“Why did you do this?” the man called out. “Remember,” said the other, “if you let go, I will be lost.” “But I cannot pull you up,” the man cried. “I am your responsibility,” said the other. “Well, I did not ask for it,” the man said. “If you let go, I am lost,” repeated the other.
He began to look around for help. But there was no one. How long would he have to wait? Why did this happen to befall him now, just as he was on the verge of true success? He examined the side, searching for a place to tie the rope. Some protrusion, perhaps, or maybe a hole in the boards. But the railing was unusually uniform in shape; there were no spaces between the boards. There was no way to get rid of this newfound burden, even temporarily.
What do you want?” he asked the other hanging below. “Just your help,” the other answered. “How can I help? I cannot pull you in, and there is no place to tie the rope so that I can go and find someone to help me help you.” “I know that. Just hang on; that will be enough. Tie the rope around your waist; it will be easier.”
Fearing that his arms could not hold out much longer, he tied the rope around his waist. “Why did you do this?” he asked again. “Don’t you see what you have done? What possible purpose could you have in mind?” “Just remember,” said the other, “my life is in your hands.”
What should he do? “If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this other die. If I stay, I risk losing my momentum toward my own long-sought-after salvation. Either way, this will haunt me forever.” With ironic humor he thought to die himself, instantly, to jump off the bridge while he was still holding on. “That would teach this fool.” But he wanted to live and live fully. “What a choice I have to make; How shall I ever decide?”
As time went by, still no one came. The critical moment of decision was drawing near. To show his commitment to his own goals, he would have to continue on his journey now. It was already almost too late to arrive in time. But what a terrible choice to have to make!
A new thought occurred to him. While he could not pull this other up solely by his own efforts, if the other would shorten the rope from his end by curling it around his waist again and again, together, they could do it! Actually, the other could do it by himself, so long as he, standing on the bridge, kept it still and steady.
“Now listen,” he shouted down. “I think I know how to save you.” And he explained his plan. But the other wasn’t interested. “You mean you won’t help? But I told you I cannot pull you up myself, and I don’t think I can hang on much longer either.” “You must try,” the other shouted back in tears. “If you fail, I die!”
The point of decision had arrived. What should he do? “My life or this other’s?” And then a new idea. A revelation. So new, in fact, it seemed heretical, so alien was it to his traditional way of thinking.
“I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say. I will not accept the position of choice for your life, only for my own; the position of choice for your own life I hereby give back to you.”
“What do you mean?” the other asked, afraid. “I mean, simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will become the counterweight. You do the pulling and bring yourself up. I will even tug a little from here.” He began unwinding the rope from around his waist and braced himself anew against the side.
“You cannot mean what you say!” the other shrieked. “You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let someone die? Do not do this to me!”
He waited a moment. There was not change in the tension of the rope. “I accept your choice,” he said, at last, and freed his hands.
– Edwin H. Friedman
Ritual for the New Year
(Adapted from litany by Rev. Joan Kahn-Schneider)
We pause now on the edge of the New Year –
a time to reflect. Like Janus, the god for whom January was named, we glance back at past joys and sorrows
That what has past can guide us
Toward what is yet to be.
Let us reflect for a moment on some of the things that happened to us and our world in 2011.
First – think of the good things. What are you proud of?
What were your gains and accomplishments?
What were some of the special blessings of (year)?
Consider those things for which you are grateful
What would you like to take with you into (year)?
You have two pieces of paper in your order of service.
On one piece write your hopes, dreams, your wishes, your goals for the coming year.
Time to write
We come to the opening of (year) also with regrets – events from the past year that you would like to forget – to put behind you – disappointments,
opportunities missed, losses, failures, unwelcome burdens.
Things you said or did that you wish you hadn’t said or done.
Things you didn’t say or do that you wish you had
Things you want to let go
Angers and fears and regrets
Hopes unfulfilled
And now, on the other paper, write those things you want to dispose of
I invite you now to put the paper with the things you want to keep in a safe place. (Perhaps you would like to take it home and put it on your refrigerator — a reminder of your good intent and good resolve.)
And now come forward if you wish bringing with you those things you want to dispose of as together we let go of all that we wish not to take with us into the New Year
The Burning
Emptying ourselves of those things which make us anxious and render us stingy with our love, we invite the spirit of Janus – the spirit of good beginnings to fill us and to cast the light of hope upon the year ahead.
“May what you have released here be forever gone from your spirit and cease to trouble you. May you be relieved and renewed, ever mindful that love is always more powerful than fear, and that compassion is the key to freedom from resentment.”
Rev. Victoria Weinstein
| Is there a place for God in Unitarian Universalism? | Andrew Young | 12-30-12 |
| Blue Christmas | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 12-23-12 |
| Christmas Pageant | Rev. Meg Barnhouse and Marisol Caballero | 12-16-12 |
| Rekindled | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 12-09-12 |
| Sweet Honey from old failures | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 12-02-12 |
| The lovers, the dreamers, and me | Marisol Caballero | 11-25-12 |
| Thank you, I’m going downhill | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 11-18-12 |
| Equilibrium with Elegance: Jazz and UU Theology | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 11-11-12 |
| Our Religious Imagination | Rev. Brian Ferguson | 11-04-12 |
| Day of the Dead (El Dia de Los Muertos) | Marisol Caballero | 10-28-12 |
| Kicking the Statue of Shiva | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 10-21-12 |
| A Safe Place | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 10-14-12 |
| Land of Hope and Dreams | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 10-07-12 |
| Coming Home | Marisol Caballero | 09-30-12 |
| American Civil Religion | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 09-23-12 |
| A Relationship of Promises | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 09-16-12 |
| Setting Sail | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 09-09-12 |
| Water Ceremony and Ingathering | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 09-02-12 |
| Becoming an Ally | Marisol Caballero | 08-26-12 |
| The least of things | Chris Jimmerson | 08-19-12 |
| Inside the Words on the Wall | Nell Newton | 08-12-12 |
| The magic of I am (you fill in the blank). | Dwayne Windham | 08-05-12 |
| Bringing Home Justice from General Assembly | Gillian Redfearn, Mike LeBurkien, Judy Sadegh, Carolyn Gremminger & Peggy Morton | 07-29-12 |
| It looks like the world is going to hell. So let’s change it – and ourselves – religiously. | Amanda Yaira Robinson | 07-22-12 |
| The Elderly, the Beautiful, and Children of God | Rev. Kathleen Ellis | 07-15-12 |
| The courage to trust | Jim Checkley | 07-08-12 |
| What is Patriotism? | Rev. Mark Skrabacz | 07-01-12 |
| The Narrow Gate: Passageways to the Ordinarily Sacred | Tom Spencer | 06-24-12 |
| Bee Yard Etiquette | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 06-17-12 |
| The Real Ten Commandments | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 06-10-12 |
| Gold in the Shadow | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 06-03-12 |
| Flower Communion Service | Rev. George “Kim” Beach | 05-27-12 |
| Individualism vs the social contract | Audrey Lewis, Max Wethington, Jara Stiller, Andrew Young, Kate Windsor | 05-20-12 |
| What I learned from my mother | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 05-13-12 |
| Does our name mean anything to us? | Rev. Brian Ferguson | 05-06-12 |
| Humility: Struggle with the Two Selves | Eric Hepburn | 04-29-12 |
| Gaia Psalms | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 04-22-12 |
| Grasshoppers in the Glittering Net | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 04-15-12 |
| Quartet for the end of time | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 04-08-12 |
| How many UUs does it take to change a lightbulb? | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 04-01-12 |
| Unitarian Universalist Utopias | Luther Elmore | 03-25-12 |
| What is enough? | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 03-18-12 |
| Firsts First | Dick Pierce | 03-11-12 |
| When to take the leap | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 03-04-12 |
| A Prophetic Liberal Religion | Chris Jimmerson | 02-26-12 |
| She stirs up the world | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 02-19-12 |
| The man who ate a car | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 02-12-12 |
| Everybody’s got a Hungry Heart | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 02-05-12 |
| Afri-Kin | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 01-29-12 |
| Mary, Mary, Quite Revolutionary | Marisol Caballero | 01-22-12 |
| Installation Service of Rev. Meg Barnhouse | Rev. Peter Morales | 01-15-12 |
| A Stone of Hope | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 01-15-12 |
| The Democratic Process | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 01-08-12 |
| Burning Bowl | Rev. Meg Barnhouse | 01-01-12 |
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
December 24, 2011
Excerpt from “God’s Joy Moves”
Persian poet Rumi
God’s joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
From cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
Now a cliff covered with vines,
Now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
Till one day it cracks them open.
“Come Into Christmas”
Ellen Fay
It is the winter season of the year
Dark and Chilly
Perhaps it is a winter season in your life.
Dark and chilly there, too
Come in to Christmas here,
Let the light and warmth of Christmas brighten our lives and the world.
Let us find in the dark corners of our souls the light of hope,
A vision of the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Let us find rest in the quiet of a holy moment to find promise and renewal.
Let us find the child in each of us, the new hope, the new light, born in us.
Then will Christmas come
Then will magic return to the world.
“The Shortest Day”
Susan Cooper
So the shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive,
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, reveling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us – Listen!!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, fest, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!
Adapted from “Hosannas of a Heavenly Host”
by Edward
After the stores have closed and the final presents
have been wrapped,
beyond the ding, ding, ding
of Salvation Army hand bells;
Beyond the steady, efficient
computer click of cash registers;
Beyond the sometimes gay, sometimes reverent
drone of Christmas MUZAK
There comes the deep silence of Christmas Eve
It is a thoughtful silence
of watching and waiting
The silence of the Winter’s longest night.
Look into the star – studded dome
of infinity and shiver
Your heartbeat gives
such wonderful comfort
That feeling of utter holiness
Becomes an unuttered prayer
At this moment
You know
Why
The shepherds
Who kept watch through the night
Heard the hosanna of the heavenly host.
Luke 2: 1-7
“Each Night A Child ls Born”
by Sophia Lyon Fahs
For so the children come
and so they have been coming.
Always in the same way they came
Born of the seed of man and woman
No angels herald their beginnings.
No prophets predict their future courses.
no wise man see a star to show where to find
The babe that will save humankind.
Yet each night a child is born is a holy night.
Fathers and mothers –
Sitting beside their children’s cribs-
Feel glory in the sight of a new beginning.
They ask “Where and how will this new life end?
Or will it ever end?”
Each night a child is born is a holy night-
A time for singing-
A time for wondering
A time for worshipping.
Luke 2: 8-14
Luke 2: 15-20
“In This Night”
by Dorothee Solie
In this night the stars left their habitual places
And kindled wildfire tidings
that spread faste
In this night the shepherds left their posts
To shout the new slogans
into each other’s clogged ears.
In this night the foxes left their warm burrows
and the lion spoke with deliberation,
“This is the end revolution”
In this night roses fooled the earth
And began to bloom in snow.
A Ritual of the Winter Solstice Fire
Meg Barnhouse
Let us take into our hands a Christmas Candle, a Solstice candle
this is a night of ancient joy and ancient fear
those who have gone before us were fearful of what lurked
outside the ring of fire, of light and warmth.
As we light this fire we ask that the fullness of its flame
protect each of us from what we fear most
and guide us towards our perfect light and joy.
May we each be encircled by the fire and warmth of love
and by the flame of our friendship with one another.
On this night, it was the ancient custom to exchange gifts
of light, symbolic of
Therefore make ready for the light!
Light of star, light of candle,
Firelight, lamplight, love light
Let us share the gift of light.
The Work of Christmas
Howard Thurman
When the song of angels s stilled,
When the star in the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When shepherds are back with
their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken.
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the brothers,
to make music in the heart.
“A Wish”
by Max Coots
For you, I wish:
Soft snow,
A gift, both given and received, wrapped in love, a candle and a fire,
A bowl of crisp red apples, tangerines, and oily oranges,
A blizzard of cards that bring those others closer than they were before,
A tree that somehow kept its green when autumn came and went,
The joy of old stories that seem forever new and songs sung softly
under the breath of peace on earth
Go in Peace and Love
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Rev. Meg Barnhouse
December 18, 2011
Conflict is part of a healthy system. We can’t agree about everything all the time. How do we voice disagreement without being disrespectful or unkind?
What is it about disagreeing that is so—-disagreeable? It all goes back to the families we grew up in.
In many families, disagreement is seen as an attack. Punishment comes down, if not directly, then indirectly, later. They WILL get you. Disagreeing is against the set of unspoken family rules everyone learns and abides by– until their teen years. This unwritten list of family truths and rules can be called the “family treaty.” To violate that “treaty” is to imperil the family’s sense of security and unity. Any violation of the treaty makes a family member fill up with formless dread and guilt. The treaty in most families says that there is only one way to do things—the right way. Other ways are wrong, and if you do things other ways you must be stupid— or dangerous. Most people comes into a marriage or a job or a church with an unquestioned certainty that the way their family did things is the standard way, and all other ways are somehow deviant.
Each family’s “treaty” is a powerful force in members’ behavior far into their adult lives. What things can you say? What things are unsayable? What can you notice? What are you not allowed to notice? Can you say “Mom’s passed out again” or do you have to say “Mom’s not feeling well this afternoon.” Can you say “Dad’s having an affair” or are you not allowed to notice? What emotions are you allowed to have? Some families only allow anger, and affection is seen as “not done.” Some familes are the opposite. Positive emotions are okay, but no one in the family is allowed to be angry. In some of those families, the anger turns inward and becomes toxic, turning into depression. Or you have to say “I’m not angry, I’m hurt,” I’m not angry, I’m just a little frustrated.”. You can tell when you have crossed the line and violated the treaty by the shocked silence that immediately falls. It is as if the brains of everyone around you have gone blank. People don’t always gasp, but they may as well….
Families have standard ways they handle money, discipline, anger, affection, conflict, power, loss, embarrassment. If you work on any church committees you have run across all different styles of working. We carry so much with us is from our raising.
Disagreeing is something almost always covered by the family treaty. Some people do it directly. “I don’t agree.” Some do it by sidestepping “Whatever…” Some do it sweetly. They smile and nod and then roll their eyes at the person next to them, or they talk to others about their opinion but not to you. Some families shame you when you disagree. “Well, that’s just foolish,” someone will say, to make you shut up and sit down. Or, “You don’t think THAT?” Like a person of your obvious caliber could never truly be proposing an idea so stupid and ill-conceived. They shame you into agreeing, or bludgeon you into it. In my family they would just talk at you and quote Bible verses until you were so stunned by the barrage of words that you would nod and agree to whatever it was just to get some rest.
Styles of disagreeing are something we learn from our growing-up time. Some of us are logical or distant or impassioned or we raise our voices or we call names like “illogical,” or “uninformed” or New-Agey” or “cold” or “rigid.” Some of us state our case mildly and expect others to read the passion betwen the lines. Others have fun with building dramatic noisy arguments that act like steamrollers, mowing down all opposition. Given that we are bound to meet all these people in our lives, how can we disagree passionately and calmly?
Keep breathing. Some of us forget to breathe when we are stressed, and we don’t think well without oxygen.
Acknowledge what kind of situation you’re in. You can say “Whew, this sure is a hot topic.” or “We sure are talking about some hard things.” This lets the other know that you aren’t dismissing the importance of your conversation, and that you know this is a big deal for them and a big deal for you.
Stay on the topic at hand. What question is on the table NOW. “If only’s” are non-productive. Saying “We wouldn’t even BE in this situation if you hadn’t..” is not productive. Bringing up other problems makes a conversation that might make things better less likely to happen.
A disagreement is not an attack. This is something that’s hard to remember. I know people who even get uncomfortable if they don’t like the same food or music as a friend. Many of us grew up in families where closeness meant sameness. As we become more differentiated ( a goal of growth and wisdom and therapy) we become more comfortable with differences.
If you find yourself thinking “You CAN’T see this any other way,” be quiet for a while until you can see how someone COULD see it another way.
Start from the position that there may be more than one way to do things. Be as specific and concrete in your comments as possible. Generalities don’t get you anywhere. Words like “Support,” “justice,” “love,” are very general. I’ve told some of you about the couple where the woman said she wanted a kiss when she and the man saw each other after work. “I DO kiss you!” he said.
“Not a peck on the cheek, I want a kiss on the lips”
“How long a kiss?” I asked.
“About—um—-five seconds long.”
“Can you do that for her?”
“Sure, I can do that. No problem!” Specifics get you places.
If you have a criticism, please try to have a good comment AND a constructive suggestion at the same time. This soup is wonderfully thick—it would suit me better if there were a little less salt.
Ask “What would happen if….?” This is a good queston for many situations. Teaching a child to tie her shoe: What would happen if you looped it this way and pulled? For teenagers: “What would happen if you came in the door and asked for the car as if you loved and respected me?” For spouses: “What would happen if we wrote down what we spend and told each other every time we charged something?”
Try to say your piece and then leave it alone. Some of us have the misplaced faith that saying something one more time will be the key….
Speak for yourself. Don’t say “Everybody in town laughs at you for being like this.”
Appreciate and applaud drama.
Ask questions.
Questions:
Tell me how you came to this position?
Help me understand more about it.
What appeals to you about this?
How does it feel to you?
What are the strengths of this position to you?
What does this touch in you?
What, if anything, do you feel uncomfortable with about this?
Here is what feels uncomfortable or disagreeable to me about what you think or what you believe. Can you help me with that?
When you find a certain person difficult, odds are that many people do. They have an abrasive style that puts off most people.
They rob your time and energy.
Their behavior is out of proportion to the problem.
Try to be direct with these people and not make excuses for their behavior or play games with it.
Remember our principles: each person has worth and dignity. We trust the democratic process. We support each other in their responsible search for truth and meaning, no matter how wrong they’re being.
You may want to try saying: “The Divinity in me salutes the Divinity in you.” or–“You may be one last spark we all need to light the whole world.”
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Meg Barnhouse
December 11, 2011
The fourth in a sermon series on the seven UU Principles. We agree to affirm and promote “a free and responsible search for truth and meaning.” Some say that a search for truth is too private a focus for a person of faith, that the search needs instead to be for justice. Some say you can’t articulate the Truth anyway, and maybe there is no capital “T” Truth anyway.
Here we are at the season of holy days, when most religions originating in the northern hemisphere celebrate the return of the light. Hanukkah is the Jewish celebration of the light that burned in the temple longer than it could naturally have burned, a miracle of light in the darkness. Hinduism celebrates Diwali, the Pagans celebrate the Winter Solstice and Christianity celebrates the birth of the son at the same time that its Roman rulers were celebrating the birth of the sun. No one knows the historical truth of these stories, but we feel in our hearts that they have a different kind of truth, an inner truth that can teach us about ourselves, about how to live well, how to get along with the way the Universe seems to work, a truth of the spirit.
In the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, there are only two declarative sentences that are translated “God is….” God is love. God is light. For those of you who have an interest in how the Divine is spoken of in scriptures, I’ll go into this just for a moment more. It doesn’t merely say “the Divine is loving,” or “the Divine is like light.” It says “the Divine is love.” “The Divine is light.” That feels more cellular to me than descriptive. The Christian scriptures which talk about Rabbi Jesus as if he were a special part of the Divine call him the Word. The Greek in the NT translated this way is the Greek word logos. Logos is a concept whose many layers of meaning include not only “word,” but more on the order of “reason,” “structure,” “organizing principle.” Scholars think the author of this part of the scripture was educated in the Greek manner but was born a Jew. In the Jewish scriptures, the word is a creative force, especially the word of God. It’s how they described the creation of the skies, the oceans and the earth. In this religion, the creation wasn’t a birth from a great mother or a star, it was done by words. So when the gospel writer says “in the beginning was the word,” and implies that Rabbi Jesus and that word are the same, he is trying to communicate that he wants people to worship the reason of God, the Creative power of God, the underlying principles by which everything in the Universe is laid out. In this same gospel, the spirit of God is called the “Spirit of Truth.” I know, it’s quite unusual to hear a Unitarian minister speak about God, Rabbi Jesus, and the Spirit It’s Christmas.
In my opinion, when we talk about truth, “capital T Truth,” we are talking about something that has this kind of generative power. We find truth and it changes things. It’s not just something to which we assent by nodding our heads sagely or clapping our hands and rejoicing that we have another bit of knowledge to add to our cocktail party conversation or our discussions with friends. In the view of these scriptures, love, light, reason, and the truth of things are ways of describing the divine.
Because our fourth principle says that we agree to affirm and promote a free and responsible search for truth and meaning, I’m going to tell you something true about the Christmas story in the Gospel of Luke that you may not yet know. We’ll see how you feel about knowing it. We’ll see if it changes anything.
Did you know that a person steeped in Palestinian culture would understand the Christmas birth story very differently from the way I always have? I’m a bit chagrined to have found this out, and I’m wondering if I should keep quiet about it, because it will ruin a lovely story. You know how you hear the story of an event, a marriage, a journey and you think to yourself “That’s a great story. What really happened is more complicated, but if I say anything that will take away the sweet shape of its telling, that kicking punch line, the moving moral at the end.” The truth is still compelling to most of us, though. We want to know.
In churches all over the place the kids are dressed as shepherds, the angels have their wings on, the kids playing Mary and Joseph are ready, and this year’s baby Jesus has been chosen. The narrator tells the story about Joseph and Mary traveling from Galilee to Bethlehem for the census, and the couple goes from one inn to the next only to be told there is no room for them to stay. They end up in a stable with the animals, far from any other human contact, giving birth alone and far from home. Sermons are preached that go like this:
“Don’t be like the mean old inn-keeper who wouldn’t give Jesus a place. You make room in your life, your heart, etc. for the child.”
We do need to hear the message of making room in our lives for Spirit, and it’s a moving commentary about the comfortable and the safe people having a harder time making room for the Light than the outsiders and the lowly.
I started reading the lectures of Bible scholar Kenneth Bailey, an author and lecturer in Middle Eastern New Testament Studies. In addition to a doctorate in New Testament, he holds graduate degrees in Arabic language and literature as well as Systematic Theology. He spent forty years living and teaching New Testament in Egypt, Lebanon, Jerusalem and Cyprus. He is the author of books in English and in Arabic. He, in dialogue with Palestinian Christian Bible scholars, has illuminated the cultural context of the story behind our children’s pageants. Palestinian culture is much the same now as it was in the time of Jesus’ birth, so most Arab believers have always understood the nuances of the story.
The first thing you’ll want to know is that hospitality is the highest value of the Palestinian culture, and that has been so for thousands of years. Joseph returning to the city of his ancestors would never have stayed in a commercial inn, even if Bethlehem had been large enough to sustain one. He would have stayed with family. For a descendant of David to be turned away from staying with family in the City of David would have brought unthinkable shame on the whole town.
The word in the text translated as “inn” is the Greek word katalyma or kataluma. This is not a commercial building with rooms for travelers. When Luke meant to talk about a commercial inn, as in the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), he used the Greek pandocheion. Kataluma is a guest space, typically one of the two rooms of a common village home.
“A simple Palestinian village home in the time of King David up until the Second World War had two rooms – one for guests, one for the family. The family room had an area, usually about four feet lower, for the family donkey, the family cow, and two or three sheep. They are brought in last thing at night and taken out and tied up in the courtyard first thing in the morning.
Dr. Kenneth Bailey; Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels.
“The days came for her to be delivered” the Gospel writer says. Nothing in the text says Mary was in labor as they were looking for a place. Mary would have spent the last part of her pregnancy in the home of whatever cousins they were visiting. There wasn’t room in the guest room, so the baby was laid in one of the mangers dug into the stone floor of the family room or made of wood and stood up on the family room floor, surrounded by animals, aunties. uncles and cousins.
Bailey has written a children’s Christmas pageant, if telling a more culturally accurate story is important to you. In the old story we are told to make room for strangers, to make room for the Divine. We are told the Divine is an outsider, despised and rejected from the beginning. We should be ashamed of ourselves for being selfish and uncaring.
In the version that is congruent with Palestinian culture, though, it seems the Divine comes to birth when you have finally found your people, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, animals, warm, noisy and crowded. There is no shame for me in the story, no scolding tale of humans failing yet again, just a family doing the best it can.
The stories we tell in our families and in our faith communities shape our experience. They signal to us who we are, where we come from, what we can expect. If I tell the story that I’m unlucky, I am more likely to notice the times when things don’t work out my way. If I grew up on the story that my people get their value from being smart, when I make a mistake or forget something, or when I fail, I feel cast out of the warm circle of belonging. If I go to a church where the story is told that a father killed his son so that the father could forgive us for our sins, and that this father loves me but would send me to eternal hellfire for making a mistake, I might feel like an overly soft parent if I don’t take my children’s mistakes out of their hide.
I like the story with less shame in it, with less loneliness surrounding the light at its birth. What changes might ripple out from the new story? I’m pondering this in my heart.
Some people who write about UUism say our principles are bland, or that they encourage us to be a private church where our search for truth is in danger of making us end up in a dusty room surrounded by books and CDs of spiritual teachings, improving ourselves and searching until we die, more wise but unworn by interaction with the world. I think if we just keep coming to church that won’t be a danger. Surrounded by folks who are in pain, in need, who are feeling hollow and restless or full and overflowing, surrounded by music and joy, as we find truth it will explode in us like a big packet of seeds, and some of them will begin to grow and make demands and create new shapes in our thinking and our doing. The magi, the wise men in the story teach us some things about how to do this. If this were my dream it would mean that you don’t search for truth alone, but in company. Sometimes you travel a long way. You orient yourself by the light you see and move toward it. Be prepared for trickery from the powers that be. They do not benefit from the truth. And you prepare yourself to find the truth by bringing your gifts to give to it. You don’t show up like a rude guest, empty handed. Bring the truth presents, because the truth cannot just be consumed, but you enter into a relationship with the truth that is ongoing.
One of the messages this season is that the truth is organic, personal, not just a concept that will help you win your next argument. It might change things, make demands, stir things up, ask things of you, send you on a quest, open you and scatter you like seeds.
