When You Love Someone

High School Seniors Bridging Ceremony

Victoria Shepherd Rao

Delivered by Don Smith

08 May 2005

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PRAYER

Earth mother, star mother,

You who are called by a thousand names,

May all remember

we are cells in your body

and dance together.

You are the grain and the loaf

that sustains us each day,

And as you are patient

with our struggles to learn

So shall we be patient

with ourselves and each other.

We are radiant light

and sacred dark -the balance-

You are: the embrace that heartens,

and the freedom beyond fear.

Within you we are born,

we grow, live and die-

You bring us around the circle to rebirth,

Within us you dance forever.

Amen.

SLT #524 Starhawk

High School Seniors Bridging Ceremony

We are now going to have one of the rare rituals our Unitarian Universalist tradition has for us. This is a Bridging Ceremony, an initiation ritual in which we will ask our High School Seniors to come up and cross over from their youth and as YRUU community members here the church and into a new territory as Young Adult Unitarian Universalists about to set the world on fire outside the confines of this particular congregation. We have a member of the Young Adult Religious Network, Lisa Fredin, to welcome them.

The Young Adult Religious Network is a long standing group of young adults, from all over the city, that meets every week here with the leadership of the Rev’d. Kathleen Ellis of Live Oak UU Church. It is part of a larger network of Young Adult Unitarian Universalist groups which meet in towns all over the continent.

This bridging is a symbolic act to re-enact a very real transition in the lives of these young people. They are moving from home and home town and taking on new identities independent of families and church communities. It is a very exciting and significant transition. As we watch them bridge, let us commit ourselves to support them, their parents and families as they test their wings. As the hymn says, wings set us free but the roots, they hold us. That support becomes especially important when new territory and identity is explored. They will each light a candle from our chalice to symbolize their new being within our wider Unitarian Universalist community.

Before we get into the bridging ritual, we will hear from our graduating seniors as they tell us about their plans for next year. And then Lisa Fredin will say a few words to introduce the Young Adult Program and extend an invitation to any interested newcomers out there.

Coming of Age Presentation

This is a special service. It is the time for giving the five eighth graders who have been participating in this years’ Coming of Age Program a chance to share their Credo Statements. The Credo Statements are statements of faith. A tough assignment for people of any age. We have asked these thirteen year olds to articulate what it is they believe about life and the way of the world, and what it is they value most in living, The understanding is that these statements are snapshots, the thinking of a moment in time. We have asked that they be honest and promised them that what they say will not be held against them. They are not committing themselves to life-long agreement, in fact, we hope the benefit of doing these statements will be largely realized in the future as the participants will read them and be able to reflect back on their earlier selves. In our liberal religious tradition, it is okay to explore ideas and ways of interpreting life and our own place in the grand scheme of it.

The Coming of Age program has been a year-long event. This has been the second year running. I have helped Carrie Evans, the Youth Assistant in preparing and sharing the once a month Sunday morning sessions where topics have ranged from values identification, liberal religion, and life choices. The program asked the youth to interview church leaders of their choice, visit another UU congregation in town and attend the worship service here. They have been asked to help with church events, to provide some service to the church, to help with a worship event, and to get involved in a social action project in the community. All the youth participated in the Christmas pageant. It is a lot of effort to ask of young people and these individuals you will now hear have shown a determination to see it through. I have appreciated their honesty and I hope you will too.

Each participant has been mentored by an adult from the congregation whom you’ll now meet as they step up to introduce themselves and their mentees in turn.

The following are the unedited credo statements from the bridging participants.

Credo Statement:

Thomas McLaren

Religion plays a somewhat small part in my life, but what I do believe in, as I have learned, is somewhat hard to define. This is a summary of my beliefs.

I believe that there is a higher power in the world. I think of this power as God. God, in my opinion, does not interfere with human life very often. I think that God is probably understanding of all religions and faiths.

Out of all the beliefs and religions of the world that I know of I think Buddhism makes the most sense. That you cannot just do good deeds and be accepted into heaven for all of eternity. You have to make yourself ready to be removed from the cycle first. To do this you have to truly be a good person, you can’t just do good deeds and not really mean it you must truly want to help people out. You have as much time as you need to do so also.

I believe in karma too. For me karma is a sort of reward system. If you do good deeds in this life then in the next one you will be rewarded. If you act badly you will be punished accordingly. Karma helps me live my life with regards to others.

I also believe that there is a negative force. This force isn’t purely negative, it just distracts from reaching your goal. This force is one of the main reasons people take so long to attain nirvana, which is the ultimate reward. There isn’t a specific name for this force it is just all the bad things in the world put together.

I do not pray, even though I believe that there is a “God”. I do not think God is active enough in human life to help out very much with my personal problems.

All in all I believe the basic structure of Buddhism but with a few sort of “twists” of my own. I believe in nirvana as I mentioned earlier and I believe in reincarnation also. I believe in the ways to attain nirvana, but I also believe in a higher power like god or something. Together this makes up the religious part of my life.

Credo Statement:

Robbie Loomis-Norris

I see life logically. What I mean by this is that I believe what I see and hear and touch and taste and smell. I rely on what I can understand it true. Even though, I also believe what people tell me if it seems like it is logical. This leads me to say that I do not believe in any kind of god or goddess or higher being. Because, like I said before, I can not see, hear, feel, taste, or smell it

I think that the “purpose of life”, is to have as much fun as you can while you can. By that I don’t mean that you should always just blow off things that are more important, but say, if you were inside and it was a wonderful day, and all you are doing is watching TV or something, then you should get outside and have fun. But when there is something that you need to do or say or some kind of responsibility that you need to fulfill, then you need to get it over with so that you can go have fun. Basically, I say that I live life to the fullest unless there is something more important to do. By “important”, I mean something that would have a bad effect to you or someone close to you. Such as a very large English paper to write before the end of the school year, If you didn’t do that then it would completely mess up your grade and it would go on your permanent record.

People are a big part of my life, that’s not very unique, but it’s true. I think one of the most needed things for humans is friends, because they help you through everything that you need help with. Well, most things anyway. They help you when you need help with big things, like family problems, and also with small things like, “hey, which page were the questions for English on?” Anything that a person would need, most of the time they will look to friends for help. Of course, that’s not all friends are good for, they have fun with you, which is why people have friends in my opinion. My friends and I have fun because, like I said earlier, fun is the basis of life. Friends are friends because they like each other and because they can have fun and laugh together. Everybody knows that things aren’t nearly as fun if there’s no one to share the fun with.

People are not originally corrupt, in my opinion, but the things that they want or have, persuade them to do things that they wouldn’t do normally. Such things like stealing from people and killing and other inhumane things like that. People do those things so that they can look good or have things that they want. Some people steal things just for the sake of having them, like money. People steal money because they want it. I think money actually controls people, because it can get them anything they want, which means that money = the world. That might be so, but still, money can of course be used for good things too, such as something to give to other people that don’t have any so that they can get things that they need to live.

LIFE, it is what everyone is “here” for. Even though I do not believe in any kind of life after death, I still think that we have a reason for being here. And my reason is that we need to live life up. We need to keep our lives, because that is all we really have.

I don’t always follow these things that I believe in, but I try to most of the time. No one knows what they really believe I think, but they can dig deep enough to live by, and this is what I dug up from inside of myself.

Credo Statement:

Edward Balaguer

I have been asked many times what I believe in. After being asked this a couple hundred times, you decide to make time to think about it. (Having to think about it for coming of age also helps you make time for it) So, after thinking about what I believe in I have come up with a rough outline of what I believe. To answer the question that has always been asked is there such thing as God? No, there is no “God” No there isn’t a person or some being who sits up in the sky deciding who gets to go to “Heaven” and who goes to “Hell”, in my belief, there is some power out there that flows among everyone and everything it is present in everything and it manifests itself differently to everyone. This Power isn’t the same for everyone. There is no book that says what’s right and what’s wrong. There is no one person who can tell you that is wrong and this other thing is right. It is the power that dictates the unexplainable, and helps explain those things that we don’t know about or those things that should never happen. Such as “miracles” a miracle is something that goes against the normal course of nature or what should happen. If you looked at something like a miracle with a scientific, or logical state of mind, you would say that those things can happen their perfectly okay but then the chances of a “miracle” occurring are very little. But besides all the odds they still happen.

I came to this conclusion by examining other religions. In the past, in my opinion, religion was a way to explain the unexplainable. To help explain the world around them, such as if lightning hits a field of food and sets it on fire, it is because you did something to anger the gods or your god. But now, after science has explained most of the things in our modern lives, there are still those very few things which we cannot explain. How something should happen but it doesn’t, how a person can get lost at sea and somehow survive, how someone with a malignant brain tumor survives for 20 years without an operation, how someone is shot in the head but makes a full recovery, how things that are thought to be impossible happen. It gives people something to believe in besides pure science, and probability, because Science alone is just cold hard numbers that have no feeling. But on the other side, religion alone is too much feeling without any fact. Science alone or Religion alone can only take you so far. You need to mix science and religion to get the best . The knowledge and fact from science, but the feeling from religion. The best of two worlds, or in the words of Albert Einstein, “Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.”

Credo Statement:

James Borden

When it comes to what I believe about the Universe and God, basically I believe in Darwinism, the Big Bang Theory and a kind of natural order to the Universe. It’s hard for me to believe that an entity decided to give this little gas ball (Earth) trees, water, and life. The traditional Christian view is that God created everything-but if he’s the creator, then who created him? While many people find the idea of God a source of strength and hope in their lives, I believe that God is functioning for them in the way an imaginary friend can give strength and comfort. While this is important and powerful for them, I find the same strength and comfort not in an imaginary God (“G-O-D”) but in a very real dog (“D-O-G”) Riley, who I can talk to and find strength, reflection and comfort.

I don’t believe that there is a set purpose to life. Instead I think that each person has to figure out for themselves what they want to do, how they want to live and how they will relate to others. Basically, there is no “God-given” rule about right and wrong that we can rely on to know what to do or how to live. However, humans have evolved a social system that helps us live happier, more productive lives with rules that are sometimes spelled out in laws and sometimes expressed through our culture. While the laws are available for anyone to read, the cultural ideas of right and wrong are a little harder to pin down, but they are just as important for the community. These include things like helping others in need, and telling the truth when it is helpful. The Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is another helpful expression of this kind of cultural rule that helps society function effectively.

So fundamentally I believe that laws of nature govern the Universe, of which we are a part, and therefore govern the cultural and written laws that we humans create and the society in which we live.

Credo Statement:

Kelley Donoghue

Statement removed at the request of the author. 1/10/2009

HOMILY: First Essays in the Art of Living

by Victoria Shepherd Rao, Intern Minister

I wanted to offer some reflections on some of what we have heard from Tom, Robbie, Edward, James, and Kelley.

There are familiar refrains in what they have chosen to talk about.

Edward has sought to find some kind of rational, comfortable balance between scientific or empirical knowledge and unexplainable revelation. Many in our congregations struggle to do the same.

James sees in life an opportunity to grow, perceiving enough of a natural orderliness in the world to trust the cultural framework we have inherited. And this is where we all live isn’t it, with hope?

Kelley gives voice to what many of us have experienced as a loss of faith in institutionalized religion. She questions any teaching that can lead to oppressive rather than liberating attitudes and ways.

Tom reveals a liberal approach to religion. He has tried on various interpretations of the human experience and decided that for him Buddhism makes the most sense. He exhibits the unselfconscious assimilation of centuries of liberalism in this, the Emersonian ideal of the individual persons capacity and God-given right to trust his own perceptions of the world as a reliable standard upon which to judge the convents of truth.

And Robbie speaks of values which many of us can relate easily to: the importance of people in our lives – family and friends, the truth that fun or enjoyment rests somewhere close to the center of life’s mysterious purpose. He shows no small insight when he identifies life as all that we can really know we have, each day, each sunny day we remember to get out to simply enjoy ourselves. This is an affirmation that is both deeply existential and spiritual.

All these statements express one of the unique spiritual gifts of our religious tradition. That is religion without the fear. No fear of institutional or eternal punishment for asking questions or having doubts. The down side of such freedom we all know is the possibility of confusion.

Here is a little story about a fish swimming along. He is burdened with a big question on his mind. But then he comes across a big fish.

“Excuse me,” said the little fish. “You are older than I, so can you tell me where to find the ocean?”

“The ocean,” said the other fish, “is the thing you are in now.”

“Oh, this? But this is water. What I am seeking is the ocean, ” said the little fish. Disappointed, he swam away to search elsewhere.

(Anthony De Mello, The Song of the Bird, pg.12-13)

This parable gives some indication of how confusing it can be to ask ourselves religious questions. And it has been difficult for these young people to tackle this credo writing assignment. But I hope they are not going to swim away disappointed. Because they may or may not recognize the significance of some very important positive things they have said to us this morning about the way the world seems to work. And so I want to briefly highlight them.

Edward has said that he believes that there is some power that flows in and among all things. This power explains the miraculous and can contain human feeling. Kelley also spoke about a force that flows through everything which everyone can feel and no one can describe. It connects everything. Holding this belief, she says, brings order to her life and eases confusion. Helps the world seem a bit less crazy.

Tom talked about some Buddhist beliefs that he has found useful. He is in the minority in this group, choosing to name the nameless, “God.” He ventures beyond the certainties of this life and takes comfort in the idea of reincarnation, the idea that we all have as much time as we need, as many lifetimes as we need, to learn the lessons we need about love and kindness. Tom says this way of understanding life, with a final goal of reaching enlightenment, helps him live his life “with regard to others.” How to live “with regard to others.” We all need to learn these lessons on living “with regard to others.” This is universal teaching.

As Robbie said, you have to dig deep into your self to come up with this stuff and these articulations show a great sensitivity to the paradox or contradiction inherent in religious ideas. They are beyond human words and understanding. Words may be used to speak of such things but they cannot contain or completely describe the ultimate truth.

But still, we know we can experience the coherence of ultimate reality and most of us do. James has said, in earlier versions of his credo anyway, that he talks to his dog, Riley, and that he has found comfort and real relationship with his dog. And such is the experience of babes in the arms of their new parents. It is the feeling of an unconditional love, a wordless embrace, a word-transcending feeling of acceptance. Such experiences are the foundation of love of God or life, the stuff of faith.

Robbie talked about the importance of his close connections to his friends, how his relationships with others enhance the experience of fun. It is something about sharing that makes it real. It reminds me of Mother Teresa’s words about love, that love can have no meaning if it remains by itself. It has got to be something which connects us to others, something which is expressed in action which connects us to others or else it is meaningless.

Words fail to signify the depth and power of such experiences of love and relatedness. But the fortunate truth is we are experiencing creatures and we don’t need words and ideas to draw the vital spiritual sustenance available to us through relationships with others. It is there, in the eyes, in the face let us always take the time to look into one another’s eyes and faces and see there communion.

But these young people have gone on a word chase and they have worked hard to find the words which express their views at this time. It is hard to call out from the wilderness between the vast expanses of childhood and adulthood, where they are now – hard to know what you think and believe, and to find the courage to share it with others, to say it out loud. I want to commend Kelley and Tom and Robbie and James and Edward. It has been a great learning challenge for all of us. Carrie and I want to thank you for sticking with it and we want to thank the mentors and all the parents for supporting us all the way.

Mark Morrison-Reed, one of the ministers at Toronto’s First Unitarian Church, and one of the first preachers of this movement to inspire me, has said that “the task of religious community is to unveil the bonds that bind each to all[that there is] a connectednessdiscovered amid the particulars of our own lives and the lives of others.” This morning you have all been called to witness to such particularities in the lives of a handful of families of this community. May the sharing of the milestones of our personal lives build the strength of the bonds of our communal life. Morrison-Reed asserts that the religious community is essential because, “Together, our vision is widened and our strength is renewed.” He was speaking about the potentiality of the religious community to act for justice in the world and that is a very important calling on the church, but what he says is also true on a personal level, for meeting the challenges of changes and transitions in our lives, in all their particular dimensions.

Growing Up and Finding Ourselves

Youth Service

Reflections from Megan Blau, Patrick McVeety-Mill and Karen Farmer

Worship Leader: Davidson Loehr

24 April 2005

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

INTRODUCTION:

Like most churches, we have struggled with learning how to understand and structure “youth services” so they are enjoyable for both adults and our youth. In the past, there were youth services at which attendance would drop below fifty. Adults were not attracted to them, and the youth dreaded doing them.

A couple years ago, I decided the failure was mine, not theirs. We changed the structure of the service to one in which the youth work with me and our intern to plan the service, where the intern and I have the responsibility for approving all parts of the service and arranging their order.

We also changed the philosophy of the service, and I think this change has made most of the difference. When I meet with our youth, I explain that once they are standing in front of the congregation, the rules change. It is no longer about them; it is always about the people sitting in front of them. Whatever they offer must be a gift to people of all ages. And to do that, their offerings need to feed the minds and souls of all the people there. Our congregation wants to see how teenagers wrestle with the questions that make us most human. It’s a serious assignment, and we treat it as such.

At first, this news seems to shock our kids, who can easily – like adults – slip into thinking it’s a time to do their own thing, and that it’s about them rather than the congregation.

They submit drafts of their statements to the intern and me, and we make suggestions as to how they could be strengthened and made more effective. In return, I try to remember they are teenagers rather than graduate students, and keep criticisms pretty gentle.

I then write a homily to weave their reflections into a message that can bring out their strengths and help others see how they relate to the existential questions of everyone in the room.

We still need to do more work in helping them speak loudly, clearly and slowly – when we get nervous, we often speak fast and softly. But we think the general philosophy and approach have solved nearly all the problems with which we’ve struggled in the past, so offer this service as a model for others to consider.

— Davidson Loehr

REFLECTION #1,

by Megan Blau

I am not a gardener. Plants wilt after a few days in my house, I have managed to kill cacti and Aloe Vera plants, I have a brown thumb. So last year, when I acquired four plants for a science project, I feared for their lives. Yet, after well over a year, they are not only alive but thriving. And when, during last month’s hail storm (which I’m sure you all remember), all their pretty yellow flowers were broken off, I was kind of upset, but I realized that while I was not a gardener, I did enjoy it a little. I found a small piece of myself, and it was nice. I know that’s not surprising; at my current age it’s hardly uncommon to be finding yourself.

But what about later? Growing up is usually thought of as a process throughout your childhood and teenage years, but I doubt any of you would tell me we just hit 21 and stagnate. So what is growing up? A physical, mental, or emotional thing? Sure, but these things are changing all our lives, not just in childhood, for better or worse. I want to keep growing up throughout my whole life, no matter what it means. I don’t want to get complacent in the imagined knowledge that I know everything. I would like to keep discovering myself, no matter who I may find. I don’t know much about plants, I’m not very good with them, and yet I was able, though all I did was leave them outside and water them every few days, to make them live and flower. And there is a very definite satisfaction in knowing that I was part of something like that.

This experience has also left me with the knowledge that I may be able to do something even if I don’t think I’ll be good at it. There’s just no way of knowing beforehand, and an attitude of self-doubt tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Though the hail broke off their flowers, the plants remained green and healthy, and already have a few buds. If I can keep this in mind most of the time, then maybe I’ll be able to blossom, too.

REFLECTION #2,

by Patrick McVeety-Mill

Growing up is a difficult process that we all must go through. It stretches from the second you are born to your last moment of life. This is against what some people believe, that as soon as you become an ‘adult’ you’re done growing up and can rest for the rest of your life, we all grow up at various times in our life and each bit of growing gets us closer to know what it’s all about. Right now, our seniors are selecting which college they will go to for the next few years of their life. This can greatly effect what happens to them past here.

It is the decisions that take place growing up that will effect and change our lives and get us closer to finding ourselves. Getting married, having kids, getting promoted, getting fired. The list of experiences goes on for quite some time.

I found that my first time really growing up was right here in this very church taking part in the coming of age program. I got to talk about how I felt about things, I felt like I was older, like I had stepped up a notch on the course of my life. I had to sit and think about what I believed, what I wanted in life, and what I had to do to get there. The decisions I made will change what’s going to happen from here on out. I feel that they serve an important purpose in our life. Growing up, learning, finding your true self, all of this is so important, and I know that I’ll have to think about what I do before I get to it. It’s quite the experience.

Even other creatures have places and times where they grow up, like dragons. Yes, dragons, just stick with me for a second. They must go through steps that will set the course for the rest of their lives. They breath their first fire, soar into the heavens, and let out their first, blood chilling roar. Each of these effects them, will they be the terrible dragon that destroys cities and eats knights for breakfast or the gentle one that sits in the forest and helps lost travelers.

The same thing happens with us. I recently had to choose between two high schools, a fine arts and a liberal arts and science one. This may effect how the rest of my life goes. I’m having different experiences, meeting different people, and taking different classes than if I made the other choice. Several years from now, I might be a completely different person because of this decision. Who knows? All we can do is wait and see.

If one is lucky enough to choose between two or more well paying jobs after college, each one will lead them down another path. Or what to do if someone (or thing) close to you has passed on, what you do next can change the path of your life. Life is like a giant board game. We shape ourselves with every move of the piece, every roll of the die. Draw a card: you’re fired! What now? Stick with unemployment, angry and depressed, or go out and find a new job. Or maybe you’re happy about it!

Each part of growing up has a different effect on everyone that can lead to finding oneself in the end. The end to this board game is different for everyone. Where you finally stop growing and find your true self is all a matter of the decisions we make. Thank you.

REFLECTION #3,

by Karen Farmer

Preface: When I was about 5, my father was working off the gulf coast, counting birds on small islands for a nature conservancy group. One day, he decided to take me with him to one of these islands, and I was deeply impressed by the birds. I had no idea that this day would change the girl I have become. My father and the birds inspired such an awe at their power, beauty and independence, that I came to admire and often expect these same qualities in the people around me, as well as myself. I would like to tell you about that day.

That morning we jumped in the motorboat. It doesn’t matter which morning, for I was young enough then that each morning seemed the same, and the color of the sky and the worth of the day still meant little. The thick sea air engulfed us and then dumped us onto the dock of Green Island, an island that to me, never fit in the real world and never needed to. It just floated as a point in an endless desert of anonymous shifting water. Here, I stomped over the dock to wait for my father as he carried the day’s lunch and a pair of binoculars, to meet me and grasp my hand. I carried the look of my father’s steps, confident and firm, while his distracted eyes urged me to be silent.

Among the whisping ghosts of birds, we climbed the ladder to the blind, a wooden creature, a shack on stilts, and sat inside, the slats crisscrossing to make little windows that framed the chaotic, asymmetrical and beautiful movement of the shorebirds. They yelled like mad to each other, the sounds of their clicks and claps lost in the cacophony, individuals, calling to her chicks or calling his mate. My father treated them like human beings, admiring their cascading wedding plumage, their striking color, their sound. And my father carried these memories. This was his job.

He was paid to count them, to learn them and to understand them. I heard the sounds of birds come out of his mouth so many times it seemed that he spoke like the birds even when he spoke to me. In my mind, they both chattered in the same esoteric language I admired but could never touch. Without thought, I carried their sound. I preened my feathers, learned to dive and fly in the gulf wind, and tried to speak with the paradoxical complexity and simplicity of their vital and pointed speech. I did these things so my father would see me that way, wanting him to watch me and to speak to me. I wanted to carry their language so I could learn the only language my father ever knew, the language of their confidence, their dress, their dance.

Like me, each bird danced for another, sky pointing, their paired dipping beaks and necks, making careful interpretive inkblots on a backdrop of smooth blue. In their excitement, they ruffled their wedding plumage, accentuating the curving vines of their necks, ruffling brilliant feathers, carrying a few away by the violent wind. Feathers whipped around and around the island, performing pirouettes like stumbling children, falling everywhere and settling cool in the shade of a restless Mesquite. Sometimes, their wide wings carried them in the wind as well, dipping and swooping low into the brush to nudge a chick or high in the air to spot a fish in the shallow gulf. As a birdwatcher, my father followed their eyes with his eyes with weighty black binoculars, his body rigid and insistent. In the mornings, he just watched, observing color and size, and carried silent imprints of the day in his mind. Not permitted to speak, I squirmed and tossed around in the blind, restless from waiting. I did not yet know why I liked being there, as the sun beat mad looping patterns of heat into my skin and cells which carried the boredom heavily, making me wild.

In the sparse shade, we stopped to eat lunch. And here, chin on my knees, between bites of a ham and cheese sandwich, crust strewn across the ground, I felt that the ants must be more free. I imagined them sleeping under a dark virgin sky, lit with the cold light of crisp stars. I imagined them sitting back in little restaurants the size of leaves and chatting about their tans and the feast of crust, retrieved earlier at lunch.

The birds were like Greek gods, bickering about space and food as a hobby, as they watched and flew, like creators, proud and contented, over their kingdom. Every bird carried its young to maturity with lazy, comfortable guidance. The only limit was space; they used every inch. Feathered shoulders almost touched and every thorny branch provided a place to land. And yet these shorebirds didn’t ever care about birds of any other species. Great Egrets defended their territory against other Great Egrets, making threatening gestures with their long white necks, but a Roseate Spoonbill was virtually invisible to them. Each one seemed to carry the isolation of city people, with apartments like tiny, stacked houses, separate and easily overlooked by other tenants.

In the afternoon, after lunch, I ran down to the beach and sifted through the seaweed, soggy and ripe with salt, on the shore. Plovers and Sanderlings wandered here as outcasts, tiny gray birds, with short pointed beaks and plump bodies. They seemed like regional deities on such an island. Rushing in and out in a childish, passionate, giddy play, they carried the routine of water, a simple in and out of tides, with no need to watch or to observe. I’d never been one of these birds; I’d never loved one. I could only watch them as a child, fascinated but detached, eyes wide and distracted from the cool stick in my hand and the foaming seaweed.

Meanwhile, as shadows fell across the island, my father watched as the birds came back from fishing and flight, to roost, and he counted them. Hurrying back up the trail, I again sat next to him in the blind, sun soaked and windblown, to watch the last of the settling birds. Their concave wings curved into a feathered embrace, into the relative harmony of sleep. Their chicks, awkward with newness, closed large eyes in a woven stick nest in the undergrowth. I marked our footsteps in the rich dirt and then sand as we reach the dock, little feet and big making a two-part rhythm on the wet wood. We carried our trash and belongings in a hush, for the noises of the birds negated our own. Even as night came, those creatures chattered on and it made me wonder what they were talking about.

Stepping back on the boat was the hardest part. The way it swayed in the shallow water as I put a foot in made it seem like it didn’t want me back. The feeling was mutual. But as a chore, as a ritual, I stepped in, one foot and then the other, balancing and glancing back at the island. My father joined me and started the motor, cutting the shallow, salty gulf and then the Intercostal Waterway, slicing the sea in half. Streaming towards shore, I carried the smell that is so recognizable there, so unique. I’ve always thought it comes from the smell of birds, millions of birds living close, the smell of salt, crystallized on everything, and the strange smell of rot, taking the seaweed, the fish, and the birds. Off the boat and home, everything seemed so grounded. Just the grackles eating scattered dog food in the driveway. Just the ants following the same line in the dirt. No restaurants the size of leaves. No sleeping under the stars.

Away from that place, the idea coats me like a filter on a camera, not inventing color, but intensifying it, all reds and greens and blues saturated and brilliant. Something happened within me on that day that changed me. Now, in my heart, everyone is a bird. Because every bird is different, there must be, it seems, one match for every human; one that tends to cock its head, one that sings a complex tune. My father is the Great Blue Heron, an intelligent and lanky shorebird, dressed in lovely blues and whites and blacks. And I am the Green Jay, a solitary, timid bird of the woods, who wears tropical blues and greens.

Now, I carry that day everywhere. I carry the washed out bleach of the sun, the harsh sea wind, the screeching cry that birds make like humans, yelling at the summit of a mountain, yelling for something undefined, yelling for defiance and beauty and power. And whenever I’m alone, I carry my father’s voice, whispering their names in the morning heat; I carry the taste of the shadows, delicate and crucial under a great speckled egg.

SERMON: Growing Up and Finding Ourselves

It’s hard enough to have to read an original piece you write about yourself in front of a lot of people. But I made it harder for our three high school students, by saying I wanted them to write something that could be a gift to you, because standing up here on this stage is always about serving the people sitting in the pews.

In working with these students, I was reminded of Kahlil Gibran’s poem on children, where he said “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.” All children are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come with their own personalities, their own styles, just as we did. And they seek ways to find a home in life, to serve it, to serve this grand sense of a Life that longs for itself – just as we do.

I see these annual youth services as a chance for the grown-ups to look into both our future and our past. Our children struggle with the same questions and challenges that we once did. And hearing from them as we have this morning can remind us how much like them we are, how much like us they are. We are also manifestations of Life’s longing for itself, and we also look for ways to find the dynamic and creative powers of life in and around us, to become a part of them, a part of this vast and transcendent Life that cradles us all.

You can see this in all three of their statements. Megan began with an innate sense of honor for Life, and a reluctance to take on responsibility for it because she had decided she had a brown thumb. Well, if you don’t think you can care for life well, you won’t want to.

It reminded me of something I read this week in Tikkun magazine. On the surface, it has nothing at all to do with Megan’s piece, but you’ll see the connection. These were two articles by women who are working to reframe the abortion debate, to get it out of the “individual rights” and “a woman’s right to choose” boundaries that aren’t likely to work any more. They are looking for a framework that is more honest, more accurate, and they write that choosing life or choosing abortion aren’t primarily choices about the new life. They’re choices about whether we feel that we can do honor and justice to the new life.

For instance, during Bill Clinton’s very liberal presidency, abortion rates in the U.S. fell by nearly 17%. Yet during George W. Bush’s very conservative presidency, abortion rates have risen by over 14%. Why? Because young women and young couples are embedded in our national economy. When the economy is better, they believe they can serve and honor life, so they have fewer abortions. When the economy is unfair, when it beggars most workers, people don’t feel that they can do justice to life, so they get more abortions. Abortion is about the economy and a deep respect for the sanctity of life, not about a hatred of life.

And there were seeds of this way of thinking in Megan’s piece. When she felt she couldn’t serve life, she didn’t want to take it on. When she began to believe she could, then she did. And that sense of life’s sanctity, and the conditions that need to exist before we encourage it – that sense seems to lie deep within us, and to be trustworthy.

Megan was talking about plants, not babies. And her point was about gaining faith in her abilities, faith that can give her more courage to engage more fully. But its implications are far-reaching. Her piece could inspire a whole book of sermons.

Patrick has a very different style from Megan. If he were a Hindu, I’d say his path is the path of Jnana Yoga, the path of trying to relate ourselves to life through understanding it more fully. You heard him working to figure it out, to understand how the choices we make have far-reaching effects, how they’re connected to life.

He also brought in another wonderful dimension: the dimension of mythology as a source for creative understanding of ourselves and our options. There are good dragons and bad dragons, and some of the difference comes from their choices. The good ones sit in the woods to help lost travelers; the bad ones just eat them. And as it is with dragons, so it is with us. How will the decisions Patrick makes help direct his life toward helping others rather than devouring them? How will ours? Is there ever a time in our lives when we aren’t trying to sort things out like Patrick is?

This is really what myths are for: religions, too. It’s also what good stories, movies and comics are for, because they are our modern forms of myth-making. We create the dragons, princes and princesses, the action heroes; we create sages like Yoda in “Star Wars,” as imaginative projections of our own strong sense of duty, courage, whimsy or wisdom. We create our dragons in much the same way as we create our deities. The distance between gods and dragons isn’t as far as you might think.

Gods and demons come from the world where dragons also live. And we often miss the point, miss mining them for the insights they offer into ourselves and our own lives. Patrick’s reflections could also be the inspiration for a whole host of sermons.

And think about Karen’s piece. While she isn’t referring to mythology – except in noting that the birds bickered like Greek gods – her poetic sense has described our world as a mythic stage on which life’s grandness struts in all its many forms. She studied the birds the way Patrick looks at dragons and Megan sees some plants surviving a hail storm, reading them like tea leaves, for insights into the deep structures of life, including hers.

Karen kept the magic of the associations she made a dozen years ago, the patterns she saw in birds and people, the wondrous variety and vitality of life in all its forms. Whenever these moments of revelation happen, they become part of our sacred foundation, and are always as present to us as they were at the moment of the revelation.

All three of these teen-agers have sensed something of the awe-inspiring magical powers of life. They are all trying to find places within life, to serve it, to honor and do justice to the spirit of life in the world around them, and the spirit of life within them. They’re grappling with the same deep callings, sensitivities, and needs that we are, aren’t they?

And let’s take it into another area beyond this room and this time. Here are three people who are part of our future, trying to relate themselves and their decisions to causes and ideals that best serve the wonder and creativity of life. What if those considerations are taken into the way we look at our world? What if we ask whether our economy serves life or stifles and batters it, both here and abroad? And what if we said the only choices we could be proud of making were choices that honored those life-giving forces rather than the choices that devoured them like a dragon devouring knights? What if we looked at our international policies of war from this perspective?

You may say, “Oh no, religion can’t consider any of those things. It’s not about the outside world; it’s only about personal things that stay inside of our individual souls!” But not one of these three kids was talking only about themselves. They were talking about how they can most creatively and proudly interact with all the world around them to honor the kind of life forces they are already aware of.

What if we encouraged our children to bring those considerations into every single decision they made in their lives? To encourage only economic policies that empower and enrich the greatest number of people? To sanction only wars that are absolutely necessary, and never to sanction wars undertaken to seize another nation’s assets, or use it as a launching pad for yet another war on its neighbor? And to insist that the pictures of the dead and wounded from our wars are always kept before our eyes by the media, so that we can see and feel the cost of our wars, so we might weep together? What if we encouraged our children to think of every decision, large and small, as one that must be kept in harmony with these fragile and miraculous forces of life they are all learning to honor, trying to serve?

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. What if we encouraged them to insure that their life paths and life decisions also honored Life’s longing for itself?

Friday night about eight people came to our monthly movie night, and one of the movies we saw was a 45-minute film by Canadian scientist David Suzuki, on the interrelatedness of ourselves with all life on earth (“Suzuki Speaks”). At one point, he showed a film clip of his teen-aged daughter addressing an international assembly, assailing the adults gathered there for not having made choices that served life. Afterwards, he said some adults came up to her to admit their failures, and said they were counting on her generation to fix things. She responded in two ways. First, she said “So that’s your excuse for not doing anything?” And then she asked how her generation was to do any better, when the adults had been their role models.

These awarenesses of life and our responsibilities to become responsible parts of it – these awarenesses start very early in our lives. They are the questions whose pursuit makes us most human. You have heard them in the reflections of all three of the teenagers who shared their reflections with you.

We hold these youth services once a year because we say we want to honor our children. But it might be worth our while to listen to them. They are reminding us of the great idealism we once had about life, remember?

Remember when you first discovered that you could actually serve life, and that doing so not only helped plants blossom, but also helped you blossom? Remember that?

Remember when you were awed by the implications of the choices you could make, how they would affect your life, and how you wanted to become like the good dragons rather than the bad ones?

Remember when you entered so easily and often into the world of birds and bunnies, horses and dogs, when you marveled at the great variety of life, when you affirmed your own style, your own gifts, and knew for a fact that you were a precious part of life – just as everything else was? Remember that?

Then do you remember how you looked forward to a whole life ahead of you, looked forward to being a bigger part of life, or serving it, of loving it, and of blossoming?

Remember? Do you remember?

Spiritual, Not Religious

Dr. Laurel Hallman

Senior Minister of First Unitarian Church of Dallas

03 April 2005

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

SERMON: SPIRITUAL, NOT RELIGIOUS

Some of you have found this church through Beliefnet.com. You took the quiz on the website to see which faith your profile resembled, and found you were closest to Unitarian Universalist, or perhaps to Secular Humanist, sometimes Quaker, in some order of the three. Then, I’ve been told, it’s true at my church, I’m sure it’s true of yours. I’ve been told-that, some of you-not knowing what Unitarian Universalist meant, moved to that website, then linked to this church’s website, and here you are.

Almost every time we have a group join our church in Dallas, someone in the group has found us through Beliefnet.com. I have to believe it is also true here.

It may interest some of you that Beliefnet.com now has a feature called “Soulmatch”, a matching service to help you meet people online with your same values, and characteristics

In the initial quiz, to introduce you to the service, you can check, among other things, what faith you would prefer your matches to have. The list starts with “Any”, and after the second on the list, shows all the usual main religions of the world. It is the second one that caught my eye. It is, “Spiritual but Not Religious”.

I know exactly what it means. I’ve heard many in my church use just that phrase to describe themselves. I expect that a large number of people check that box on Soulmatch, so your chances would be good to meet someone if you also checked it, I would think. And I also might guess that if those people who checked “Spiritual but Not Religious” met, fell in love and decided to marry, they would have a high probability of having the wedding at a Unitarian Universalist church.

Because many imagine that we are also . . . “Spiritual but Not Religious”.

I had a young man, in my first meeting with a couple planning their wedding-I had a young man tell me that they came to our church for their wedding because they didn’t like organized religion.

I chose not to explain to him that we, in fact, are an organized religion, even knowing that John Buehrens who preceded me as Sr. Minister of my church is known to have said, “You don’t have to worry about organized religion around here. We’re not that organized.”

I didn’t go into details, because I knew what he meant. I know what people mean when they say they’re spiritual but not religious. They mean that they choose not to affiliate with any religious body of beliefs, doctrines, rituals and activities, perhaps because they have found them oppressive, or perhaps because they’ve never experienced them. There are, now, many people known in church-lingo as “the unchurched”. They might say they are spiritual but not religious because they are the adult children of people who left organized religion long ago, never exposing them to any organized religion-making them wary of all of them.

People who say they are “Spiritual, but not religious” mean that they have found meaning and purpose and even a set of beliefs about life and its mysteries, outside Catholic, Jewish, Protestant Christian, or the “other” faiths on the Soulmate list. They have found them in the writings of people like Jack Kornfield, or Ram Dass, or Thich Nhat Hanh-(interestingly, each of them speaking out of a religious tradition, but not directly representing that religion-and speaking more to people outside religion altogether, than those who are churched)-or these seakers have found their spiritual path in the midst of poets like Rilke, or Rumi, or Rabindranath Tagore who speak eloquently of the life of the spirit, and give guidance about how to live that life. Some have become spiritual but not religious because they have found more truth in nature than in church.

Whatever the source of this spiritual awakening–whatever the source of their spiritual awakening-I know it can be transformative, sustaining, deeply meaningful and purposeful.

It is, as we heard in the reading earlier-the call to go within. It is the call to pay attention to what is close at hand. It is the call to notice the feelings we have in the moment, and to move beneath them, to a deeper response, a deeper connection than our usual reactions and responses in life. It is an invitation to dip into the underground river-(Ira Progoff called it,) or the singing river -( Harry Scholefield called it)-it is the call to greet life with open hands-( Henry Nouwin) suggested, telling us to move into the “inner space” of our lives.

I have a postcard I keep on my desk. I received it in 1995 from a colleague I barely know, who had heard me preach, and said the picture on the postcard reminded him of my sermon. On the postcard is a reproduction of a painting by a contemporary Italian painter, Wainer Vaccuri. The painting is titled “Deep Down”. In very clear imagery, a man is poised on his toes at the top of a cliff, like a diver on a high diving board-arms and hands pointed straight down, body bent as if he is already beginning the fall-his head is turned to the side away from us-he is looking at a figure floating above him. The figure has one outstretched arm pointing straight down. The horizon of the sea off in the distance, but about even with our diver is pale blue. But the sea into which he is about to dive is deep and dark. We know he’s diving anyway.

I keep that postcard on my desk in a plastic envelope to protect it, because it reminds me when I am tempted to scoot along the surface of things-that my call is to the depths. Not to the darkness per se though sometimes that’s what I find-but to the depths of life’s purpose and meaning. To dive in. To dive off. To dive. The man’s head is turned as if to say, “Are you sure?” And the angel, no frilly wings in sight-the angel’s posture says, “I’m sure.”

I say this because it takes courage to live the spiritual life. It takes a willingness to face reality- to stop and face reality. It takes courage to take life on life’s terms, and to dive deeply into its truths.

It takes discipline to live a spiritual life. It takes silence, and practice writing fears and hopes and yearnings and thanks and regrets and joys, and being willing to start each day anew, as if it were your first.

I will admit that once in a while when someone tells me they’re spiritual but not religious, I can sense it is a cop-out. They live in the world of shallow affirmations, and drippingly sweet words of inspiration. They live in the world of imagined joy, where tragedy never visits, and where love overcomes every difficulty-To be sure, our bookstores are chock full of books to sustain that vision.

But today I want to honor the spiritual path which has depth, meaning, discipline, and willingness to live without knowing what exactly is expected of us in the present moment, and living that moment as fully as we can anyway.

I understand that religion has failed many people who have found their spiritual path on their own. I understand that religion has failed many who put their faith in belief systems and have been broken by them. I understand that religion has bored people until they couldn’t stand it any more. And I understand that religion has excluded, restricted, ruled over many people until they said “no more” and left.

So if you get anything from today it is that I understand why people say, “I’m spiritual but not religious.” I get it.

I understand why people say it in our churches.

But lest you find yourself embarrassed because you don’t understand fully where you are, I want to add some thoughts about being religious.

One of the problems with being spiritual but not religious, (and it may be why some of you are here) One of the problems is that it’s hard to find a group to join. Some find a meditation group. Some who are spiritual but not religious will have found their way into Group Therapy, or into a 12 Step group, and it will satisfy their need for companionship along the sometimes difficult road of life-for we will gather in groups-it seems to be part of human nature-to find others like us, to find others facing the same questions and challenges we are-to celebrate our joys together. We will find groups.

Now that it’s on Soulmate, and couples are encouraged to find each other, perhaps a larger “Spiritual but not Religious” movement will begin to emerge. Because eventually some of those couples will have children, and want to raise their children in a setting which is congruent with their world view, and then they may want to get together for spiritual practice, and then they may discover that others throughout time have done similar things, and voila! they’re spiritual and religious at the same time.

Or they can come here for their religion.

If you take anything else home today from this sermon-first I will remind you that I know what it means to be spiritual but not religious. But second, I need to say that coming here is a religious act. This is a religious place. We encourage you to be spiritual and religious here.

But, you may say, this is a “dogma-free zone (we actually have little cards you can give to people when they ask about our religion-they’re linked to a UUdecide.com-one of them says on it “dogma-free zone” Doesn’t dogma define religion?

Sometimes.

But more definitive is the history of grappling with theological questions. We have that.

More definitive is a defined set of values. We have that.

Even more definitive is the institution which is dedicated to a certain path, a certain set of activities (like teaching our children, and meeting here every Sunday to sing and pray and for this brief time, order our lives together) and probably most definitive, is the extended past and future in which we honor those who have gone before, and invest ourselves in the people and events which will follow us.

Someone said to me recently, “If you want your life to have meaning, invest in an institution.”

Invest your time and resources in the structures of society which have depth and meaning and purpose beyond your individual life.

Last month, a friend of mine died. He was the husband of one of my best friends. They belong to the Unitarian Universalist Church in Bloomington, Indiana-where I was the minister for six years. Our friendship has continued over the 18 years since I was there.

My friend was 70. He was an ecologist who taught at Indiana University. He also more frequently than he liked, gave expert testimony in cases around ecological issues-usually about wetlands, his specialty.

His life was invested in the preservation of wetlands, in the students who would carry the work forward, in his Unitarian Universalist church and in his family. He sang in the choir-not always on key. He played the banjo in a string band. He first questioned, and then agreed with the building of a sanctuary for that church. More recently he questioned and then agreed with the hiring of three part-time ministers for that church. He was chair of the “Grounds” committee, and spent untold hours at the church planting, trimming, mowing, and tending the grounds of the church. . He mentored my son, in the Coming of Age program 22 years ago. And a better mentor I could not have found. My son would travel to Bloomington to see his friends during his college days in Minnesota–and he would stay with Dan and Melinda. He had a home there with them.

Dan did not claim to be spiritual or religious. He chided me frequently about my use of traditional religious language. He found his refreshment in deep sea fishing-or more specifically ‘catch and release’ deep sea fishing. He sided with Emerson and Thoreau about the power of nature to feed our souls.

In the last months of his life-far too brief a time as far as Dan’s friends were concerned-in the last months of his life-in a specific shift of theological stance, he said that he had found God in the community which surrounded and sustained him.

The choir at their rehearsal, one Wednesday not long before he died-the choir called his home and sang one of their pieces to him through the phone. He wasn’t speaking by then, but he smiled (I’m told) through the whole of the singing. The string band made regular visits to his home to the very end. Almost every Christmas card I received this year from Bloomington mentioned Dan and his illness. The church in Bloomington lost one of their pillars.

I tell you this personal story because it is my most recent experience of what it means to be religious.

It is to be spiritual within the context of a living, breathing, sustaining, historically grounded institution with babies being born, and old ones who are dying-and everything in between. It is to be spiritual within the context of pot lucks and discussion groups, Sunday School classrooms, Christmas pageants and choir practice. It is to be spiritual and to take on a mortgage for expansion, and it is to be spiritual and then burn that mortgage.

To be spiritual and religious is to show up here each week. To bring your discouraged and sometimes battered spirit to this place to be lifted up, to be challenged, to be sustained here among all these others, and to be blessed back into the world to continue your work, the investment of the time and resources of your life in things which matter.

To be spiritual and religious is to show up here each week, in this place where the two come together, where we search the inner space of our lives together. Where we, one more time, make space for hope to emerge, together. Where we are not alone in our grief. Not alone in our search. Where we are not alone.

Last week I spoke with my friend Melinda to find out how she was doing. She’s all right. She is overwhelmingly sad, but she is all right. She said the flowers are coming up.

They always had flowers blooming all around their home. Dan had, years before, torn up the lawn, to plant native plants and flowers. So I knew it would be time for their flowers.

But she added, “Last fall he kept buying bulbs. He would sit out on the deck because he was already weakened by his cancer-and point to where he wanted the bulbs to be planted by the men who had come to help. He kept saying he’d be here to see them, even though we both knew he wouldn’t.”

I remembered the poem I read earlier-and I recited part of it over the phone. We both had a good cry. Because it is about Belief-not the belief that we will be here in the spring-everything is too transient for that-but the belief that spring itself will be. With or without us. It is a belief, not in the shallows, but in the deep movements of life that renew and sustain us even when all is lost.

So… all this is to say that the next time someone speaks to you about your faith, tell them your have found the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin, where your spiritual life is nurtured, and where you have found a religion of inclusion, freedom, faith and hope for your life, for your family, for our future together. Tell them you are spiritual and religious, and that it has made all the difference.

About Schmidt – About Life – About Aging

© Nathan L. Stone, Ph.D., minister

27 February 2005

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

CALL TO WORSHIP

When you walked through those doors this morning – you entered a very rare world of church and religion.

A place where no thought is taboo.

A place where questions are expected… valued… and even celebrated.

A place where the most sacred things are you and this good earth.

A place where we can actually poke fun at our own religion because we know that no religion has a corner on the truth.

This, then, is my hope, my prayer, and my wish for you… and for me:

That whatever spiritual or emotional itch you may be experiencing that you will find a way to have that itch scratched by whatever happens here today in this community called First Church. And may you be surrounded by love.

May it be so.

PRAYER

Will you join with me in an attitude of prayer?

Spirit of Live… God of many, many, many names… and no name.

We pause to give thanks for a place and a people who are willing to hear and celebrate the good things in life. We pause to give thanks for a place and a people who are also willing to hear about the painful and difficult parts of our lives.

In a busy, fractured, and fearful world – may we be energized by holding hands, laughing, and dreaming big dreams.

In a busy, fractured, and fearful world – may we truly find a stillness here that will gently carry us through all of our days and nights.

In a busy, fractured, and fearful world – may we learn to go slower, to be healed of our brokenness, and to find a deep, deep love that will slowly dismiss our fears.

May we find a true harmony and serenity that knows how to accept the things we cannot change, discovers the courage to change the things we can – and the wisdom to know the difference.

This is our prayer in the name of all that is good and true and honest and beautiful.

Amen.

SERMON

I know this is a sermon about aging. And I know some of you may be saying, “I am not old!” But you will be. And, chances are – somebody you love is old. So here is a sermon dedicated to us all.

Recently I received an email story. Whoever wrote the story starts it out like this:

I have been guilty of looking at others my own age and thinking… Surely I cannot look that old. I’m sure you’ve done the same. You may enjoy this short story.

While waiting for my appointment in the reception room of a new dentist, I noticed his certificate, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I remembered that a tall, handsome boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 40 years ago. Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was too old to have been my classmate.

After he had examined my teeth I asked him if he had attended a local high school. “Yes,” he replied. “When did you graduate?” I asked. He answered, “In 1957.” “Why you were in my class!” I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely and then asked, “What did you teach?”

Ouch. That’s funny… not funny. The movie, “About Schmidt,” is funny… not funny. It is funny… not funny because it is about aging – which is funny… not funny.

My wife and I find ourselves having more and more conversations about our aches and pains. Recently, we even had an extended conversation (are you ready for this?) comparing – colonoscopies! That’s funny… not funny, don’t you think?

How many of you have seen “About Schmidt?” This is a movie that got my attention. If you haven’t seen it you must see it soon.

In the Los Angeles Times, Manohla Dargis writes:

“About Schmidt” opens with a 66-year-old man staring at the second hand sweeping toward the last 5 o’clock of his working life. After years as an executive in what he calls the “insurance game,” Warren Schmidt has reached the age of retirement and, like the packed boxes stacked next to him, he’s about to get junked. He’s a nowhere man at the end of his run and he might not grab your attention if not for the fact that the senior citizen with the exquisitely anguished comb-over and the potato physique is played by Jack Nicholson. (http://www.fandango.com/reviews_fullreview.asp?mv=39806)

Roger Ebert says that,

Warren Schmidt is a man without resources. He has no intellectual curiosity. May never have read a book for pleasure. Lives in a home “decorated” with sets of collector’s items accumulated by his wife, each in the display case that came with the items. On his retirement day, he is left with nothing but time on his empty hands. He has spent his entire life working at a job that could have been done by anybody, or apparently, nobody. He goes to the office to see if he can answer any questions that the new guy might have, but the new guy doesn’t. In a lifetime of work, Warren Schmidt has not accumulated even one piece of information that is needed by his replacement.

“The mass of men,” Thoreau famously observed, “lead lives of quiet desperation.” Schmidt is such a man. (http://www.suntimes.com/cgi-bin/print.cgi)

And movie critic, James Berardinelli, writes:

“About Schmidt” is an unsentimental yet effective portrait of a character struggling with the essential questions of life. Although it has moments of cynicism, this is not a cynical film. Although it contains instances of humor, it is not a comedy. And, although it contains elements of the road trip genre, it is not a road trip movie. Instead, this is an opportunity to spend two hours in the company of a fairly ordinary man who no longer understands the point of anything.

(http://www.movie-reviews.colossus.net)

And although I have never thought much about retirement the movie made me face up to my own aging. Especially in one scene where Warren Schmidt does muse on his wrinkles as the camera zooms in: the sagging skin under his chin (the inevitable gift of gravity), the hair in his ears, and the little veins in his ankles.

Speaking of hair in the ears – I declare that if all the hair in my ears would grow on top of my head I could look like Texas Governor Rick Perry. Maybe even become a televangelist.

The movie just hit too close to home. And, what’s more, I saw it on the eve of attending my 45th high school reunion in Honolulu in June. And, indeed, I kept wondering at the reunion: “Who are all these old people?”

“About Schmidt” also got to my friend, Neal Jones – a psychologist in South Carolina. He said,

Toni thought it was just ok, but it struck a deep nerve in me. Here’s this guy on the last lap of his life’s journey looking back and wondering what it was all about. He’d done everything he’s supposed to – he’s worked hard at the same company, saved, remained faithful to his wife, raised a kid. Yet the woman he met at the camper park nailed him. She could see behind his polite smile to his very soul, and she saw that he was empty, angry, lonely, and sad. That got to me. Here at mid-life I wonder what it’s all about. I’ve been a “good boy” all my life; I’ve done what I’m supposed to. Yet none of the dreams I had about my life in my twenties have come true. Have I failed, or have I just become more realistic? Am I doing what I’m “supposed” to be doing? All I know at this point is that it’s passing by mighty fast, and I still don’t know what it’s all about. (email: 01/21/03)

It is simply amazing how, all of a sudden, you’re old. They say that old is anybody who is 15 years older than you. And so I may take some comfort in finding a 79-year-old person and feeling smug about my “youth.” But at some point there are not many people 15 years older than you. I have to also realize that there’s some 49-year-old who’s looking at me and saying, “Damn, that Nathan is old!!”

Schmidt makes me wonder, “When does old happen? When does a person wake up and say, ‘Oops, I guess I’m old now!?'”

In an article entitled, “Auguries of Aging,” George Merrill shares his reflections.

I’m old now. I became old incrementally: first, at 50, when the American Association of Retired Persons notified me that I was eligible for membership and then at 65, when, at my regional Social Security Office, seated under the portrait of a cherubic, boyish looking President Bill Clinton, I applied to receive benefits. Finally, days after my last birthday, when I attended my fiftieth high school reunion, I knew the deal was clinched.

Old is a fickle word: it’s revered and feared. Americans love anything old: antiquing is a national sport and genealogies are hot. No collector wants a “senior” butter churn or a “mature” eighteenth century bed warmer. He wants it old, the older the better. The word old, like the word dead, isn’t necessarily problematic, except as it may refer to us.

The dead don’t want to be thought old, either. Obituaries are often accompanied with pictures of the deceased. Seeing only the pictures I’d think everyone died between forty and fifty. Most were upwards of sixty. For anyone sixty-five and up and not sure whether they’re old, looking at the photograph from your most recent driver’s license helps. Two things happen: the image you see never squares with the one you have in your mind’s eye, and it gets more difficult kidding yourself about age.

Am I uneasy about being an old man? Yes. I resent the diminishments and vulnerability. I’m embarrassed when my mind goes blank when reaching for people’s names. I’ve experienced my first arthritic pains: they’re like electric shocks. At doctor’s appointments, now, entering the office feels like walking the last mile. Young women regard me with respect, but not desire.

As a young clergyman, I enjoyed visiting the elderly on Manhattans’ West Side. I’d get my parishioners talking about the old days, the world of their youth. It was wonderful hearing their stories. They’d invariably interrupt their narrative to launch into what I then callously called “organ recitals.” These were detailed accounts of aches and pains in various body parts and commentaries on operations they’d undergone. My parishioners would recite names from the obituaries, asking me if I knew them. I’d grow impatient, and try to change the conversation. I was rarely successful. Age evens the score: where they were then, so I am, now.

It’s disturbing being old in our throwaway culture. (“Journeys” – Winter-Spring 2003; p.2)

The sad thing about Warren Schmidt is that he, apparently, never thought about anything beyond his small world. After his retirement and in his sense of emptiness and confusion he tries to reach outside his world by responding to a TV appeal called, “Childreach.” He decides to send them $22 a month (only 72-cents a day!) for a 6-year-old Tanzanian child named Ndugu. “Childreach” sends him a picture of Ndugu and asks Warren to write and tell the little boy about himself.

For what seems like the first time in his life Warren Schmidt tries talking about his insides – and, it is clear, he has very little to say. In 66 years Warren Schmidt seems to have never, or perhaps rarely, visited his insides. I read in some review that Warren’s soul desperately needed a squirt of oil desperately.

My brother – who works very hard – hated this movie. “Nathan,” he said, “I do not want to be like that. I don’t want to retire and realize I did not invest in anything beyond my paycheck. I do not want the end of my professional career to be a perfunctory retirement dinner and a Winnebago in my driveway. I do not want to come to the end of my professional career and try to make life worth while by sending $22 a month (only 72-cents a day!”) to “Childreach” and writing to an absentee foster child named Ndugu.

Schmidt got to him because he rarely, if ever, visits his insides.

“About Schmidt” is a haunting movie. I think it should be required viewing for all teenagers. And then we should all have to watch it every two years.

I do not want the Schmidt-syndrome to sneak up on me. So I’ve made myself a list of reminders. Things to do to avoid a Schmidt-life.

1. Remember to read… and read a lot. Read in order to live in a very big world of knowledge and insight. Read to keep your mind alert.

2. Remember to travel. Get out and beyond my little 40 acres of life. See how the rest of the world lives. Go now and find some Ndugu while I still have time and energy. Go now and find some Ndugu before I get calloused, set in my ways, and my heart becomes two sizes too small!

3. Remember to hang out with people who like to think and discuss world events and big ideas.

One of the ways I do that these days is that I have lunch once a week with a bunch of old guys. I call it “The Geezer Lunch.” I learn so much from all that geezer-wisdom.

4. Remember to cultivate friendships. I must thank Pat for pushing me in this regard. Left to my own introverted and sometimes depressive devices I’d be alone most of the time. But Pat believes in making friends, developing friends, and nurturing friendships… so that your life doesn’t become insulated and isolated. So that you don’t end up like Warren Schmidt: a wife, a Winnebago, and a daughter who lives far away and doesn’t like you very much.

5. Remember to keep an eye on your attitude. See – this is how it works. If you’re grouchy now – you’ll only get grouchier in a nursing home. If you’re a whiner now you’ll whine much, much more when you’re old-old.

The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary.

After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. “I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room… just wait.” “That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged… it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice: I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away. (source unknown)

I’m sure there are a bunch of other things that can be done to avoid the Schmidt-syndrome but I’ll just mention one more.

6. Remember to get a dog. I saw “About Schmidt” four times and I was struck that there was no dog in his life. A dog would have taught him to get outside of himself.

I must admit that before I met Pat I had no dog in my life. (Uh, that is not a good sentence but I think you know what I mean. I hope Pat knows what I mean). But now I have Lani. And how I do love that silly girl. We rescued her. She is part Retriever and part Burmese Mountain Dog (we think). She weighs 85 pounds and is barely a year old.

Shee teaches me so very many things. When I get into one of my pity-parties and I’m pouting around wanting someone to pet me – here comes Lani to nudge my arm until I pet her. She makes me get out of myself.

And then there’s our other dog, Yellow. (She died not too long ago.) She was a thousand years old with really bad arthritis, tumors everywhere, and dying of congestive heart failure. But she never complained and her tail continued to wag even into the final visit with the Veterinarian. Yellow taught me to embrace the passage of time – to age – and to die with dignity and grace. Yellow was a kind of spiritual director for me.

I read a poem recently. A poem by Mary Oliver. It is a fine anti-Schmidt poem:

“When Death Comes”

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox;

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:

what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

(New and Selected Poems; Beacon Press: Boston, Massachusetts; 1992; pp.10-11)

I do not want to be a visitor to life. I do not want to be Warren Schmidt.

I want to be Kathy Bates – her name is Roberta in the movie. She’s about Warren’s age. Her presence, in contrast to Schmidt’s – her presence just fills up the screen. When old age and death come I want to be Roberta : naked in a hot tub next to a frightened and bewildered Warren Schmidt. When old age and death come I want to be Roberta – who approaches life hungrily and with good cheer and who can’t stop talking about how sensuous and “orgasmic” (her word!) she is.

When old age and death come – I want to be Roberta. What about you?

Shalom. Aloha. Salaam. Namaste. Amen. Blessed Be. And I love you all.

BENEDICTION

The bene-diction: the good word as we go our ways –

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-prepared body… but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “Wow! What a ride!!”

[Hug somebody if they’ll allow it. Remember that Virginia Satir used to say that we need at least 3 hugs a day just to survive. 12 in order to flourish!]

Walking the strait and narrow

Chuck Freeman 2005

February 20, 2005

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

 

Rev. Freeman is a guest minister from the Live Oak Unitarian Univeralist Church.

Jesus’ admonition to “Walk the strait and narrow” is widely misinterpreted. It refers to taking the difficult path, not the path of conformity. It means finding your own path, not one laid out by another, and having the courage to take it.

On Death and Dying

© Davidson Loehr 2005

Henry Hug

31 October 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

Prayer

It is Halloween: the ancient time when we allow dark spirits to mingle with the light, that we might try to integrate them. All life is tinged with death, for every day we move toward that time when we shall not move at all. And so in our prayer this morning, let us acknowledge the deaths in our lives.

– Our own death. Whether it is imminent or, we hope, more distant, how do we incorporate our death as a fact of our life? What is this life like, that will end? What do we love, what do we serve, what is precious to us? What gifts do we bring? Since death must come to all, let it not stain life, but come as the inevitable ending to a life we are glad to have lived.

– The death of those we love, whether impending or past but still present in our hearts and minds. What was precious about them? What do we miss, what kind of hole do they leave in us and in the world? What sort of a gift were they, to us and to the world?

– Or the deaths of countless others, victims to wars, starvation or disease. What has their absence taken from our world? How much more complete would we have been, had they been able to flourish and bless the world with their unique gifts? What might be done to prevent the slaughter of war, and the devastation of starvation and disease?

– Or more abstractly, what of the death of dreams, and hope? What dreams have died? What hope has lost its foothold? Just name them.

Sometimes we care for ourselves and our souls simply by taking our fears and losses out of the shadows, naming them, and claiming them. May it happen for us here, this morning, now. So we pray. Amen.

HOMILY: On Death and Dying,

Henry Hug, M.D.

Thanatology is the study of death, from the Greek ‘thanatos’ meaning death and ‘logos’ study. Euthanasia means good death. How appropriate to cover this subject on el dia de los muertos.

For those of you who don’t know me, let me tell you a bit of my background. I am retired physician who practiced thoracic surgery in Michigan before moving to Austin, so you will get a physicians perspective of death.

I would like to cover three subjects. The first one is the death of the supreme thanatologist, Elizabeth Kubler Ross on August 24, 2004. The second is the case of Terri Schiavo, the Florida woman who is in persistent vegetative state and finally the Oregon Death with Dignity act.

Kubler Ross was born in Zurich, Switzerland, where she went to medical school and then came to this country in 1957 to train as a psychiatrist. She was appalled at the way hospitals handled death. She became interested in studying death when she saw her mother go through a long and painful final illness that lasted two years, and she went to England to view first hand how they comforted dying patients.

Thirty five years ago, in 1969 she wrote her first of thirteen books. It became an instant classic entitled ‘On Death and Dying’ Four years later when I bought her book, it was already in its tenth printing. I don’t know what printing you would be buying today, but I know that it is still in print and selling well.

In this book she described the five stages that people go through when they are given a fatal diagnosis and prognosis. They are: ‘Denial’ ‘The doctor must be wrong, I am not hurting anywhere, I will get a second opinion’ When the second and sometimes the third or fourth opinion confirm the original one, the patient moves on to the second stage: ‘Anger’ ‘Why me, what have I done to deserve this’ The third stage is ‘Bargaining’ ‘Dear Lord, if you spare me, I will do good works for you’. The fourth stage is ‘Depression’ when the patient can not sleep, loses appetite and show most or all of the symptoms of clinical depression. The fifth and final stage is ‘Acceptance’ where the patient is at peace with himself and with the world.

Not all patients go through all five stages, some remain in some early stage, others may retrogress before moving forward.

Did you know it is possible to go through all five stages in five minutes? Not when dealing with a fatal diagnosis, but imagine this scenario. You are driving along the expressway, there only a few cars on the road, or so you think, so you are driving at 80 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone.

Suddenly you hear a siren and in the rear view mirror you see a police car with its lights flashing. Your first though is ‘It can not be me’ (Denial). When the police car remains at your tail you realize that it is you he is after, so your reaction is ‘Why me, there are other cars going just as fast, why didn’t he stop one of them’ (Anger). Then after the officer asks for your driver’s license and registration you try to plead with him. ‘I wasn’t going that fast officer, besides there so few cars on the road, I wasn’t putting anyone in danger’ (Bargaining). When the cop doesn’t buy your argument, you go into depression. ‘This is going to cost me over 100 dollars, now I can’t buy something nice for myself as I was planning’ (Depression). After the officer hands you a ticket and drives away, you finally have to admit to yourself, ‘I know I was driving 20 miles per hour over the limit. I will be more careful next time. I can’ afford another ticket’ (Acceptance).

Dr. Kubler Ross herself repeated her mother’s experience when she suffered the first of several strokes that left her paralyzed, in pain, unable to care for herself and dependent on others. In spite of her own experience and that of her mother, to the end she remained adamantly opposed to euthanasia or assisted suicide.

The second subject I would like to cover, is that of Terri Schiavo, the Florida woman who has been in persistent vegetative state for fourteen years. She originally suffered a cardiac arrest because of an electrolyte imbalance secondary to bulimia. She was resuscitated but not before she suffered extensive brain damage. Patients in persistent vegetative state differ from those in coma in that they do not appear to be asleep. Their eyes are open and they grimace which some interpret as them responding to verbal stimuli. I have seen patients in persistent vegetative state and they grimace and move their eyes even when there is no one in the room and are observed from a distance.

Her husband petitioned the court to have her feeding tube removed and let her die, based on the fact that in life she had frequently voiced that she did not want to live if ever in such a condition. Terri’s parents and sister hang to the futile belief that with some unconventional treatment she may recover some day and petitioned Florida governor, Jeb Bush, to have the tube reinserted. The busybody governor knowing he didn’t have the authority to order the reinsertion of the tube, asked the meddlesome legislature to pass a law that would allow him to give the order. In less than 24 hours, the two chambers of the legislature, hastily gave the governor the authority to have the tube reinserted.

Michael Schiavo challenged the law and Judge Douglas Baird agreed with him, ruling that the law was probably unconstitutional because it violated the separation of powers. An appellate court concurred and the case went to the Florida Supreme Court. A few weeks ago, the seven Supreme Court judges ‘two of whom were appointed by Governor Bush- unanimously declared that the law was unconstitutional because it reduced the courts to being a mere consulting body if the legislature could overrule a decision of the courts by passing a new law.

The lesson to be learned from this ordeal is that if you don’t have living will, you should not walk, you should run after this service to a table in the gallery where Daesene Willmann has the appropriate forms where you designate someone you trust to carry out your wishes. They are easy to fill out and only needs to be witnessed, not notarized, to make your wishes official. Incidentally in a living will your wish could be that you want to be kept alive as long as possible. The correct name of the so called living will is ‘Directive to Physicians and Surrogates’

The third and last subject I will be covering is Oregon’s ‘Right to Die’ law.

In 1994 the Oregon legislature passed a law that allowed a physician to prescribe a large amount of barbiturates to terminal patients who were expected to live less than six months. Governor Kitzhaber, signed the law which had multiple safeguard to prohibit abuse. Among them, the patient had to be a resident of Oregon for at least six months, to prevent an influx of patients from other states. The person had to have a patient ‘ doctor relation also for at least six months.

Two other physicians had to concur that the patient was indeed terminal with a life expectancy of less than six months and was capable of making rational decisions. Only then could the physician prescribe a large dose of barbiturates, enough to be fatal if ingested. The patient is then given instructions on how to proceed.

I have read that some patients chose not to take the fatal dose before dying, but died with the peace of mind that it was available if needed.

Within weeks of the governor signing the law attorneys from the National Right to Life petitioned United States District Court Judge Michael Hogan to review the case and declare it unconstitutional. The State of Oregon appealed the decision and the 9th US Circuit Court of Appeals ordered the reversal of Judge Hogan’s decision.

Judge Hogan made an end run around the reversal by allowing the National Right to Life to refile the lawsuit under different grounds. In 1995 Hogan once again ruled the law unconstitutional because it violated the equal protection clause of the US Constitution. Again the Appellate Court rebuked the rather week argument made by judge Hogan and the United States Supreme Court refused to hear the appeal.

In November of 1995 Oregon voters resoundingly reaffirmed the country’s only assisted suicide law. A few weeks later judge Hogan complied with the Appellate Court by dismissing the National Right to Life lawsuit but once again left the door open a crack by allowing once more to consider an amendment of the lawsuit and start the process anew.

Let me digress here. When I was in Michigan I had a patient who was a Circuit Court Judge and he told me that all judges rule with an eye of what the Court of Appeals may rule on their cases. If they are overruled, they will say: ‘The distinguished colleague erred’ but what they really mean is ‘You goofed dummy’.

Undeterred, the National Right to Life refiled the lawsuit in the case by claiming that their client suffers a so called ‘stigmatic injury’. Courts have recognized such an injury when a law stigmatizes a class of people. In this case they claim that terminally ill patients’ lives are less worthy than those healthy or in other words, terminally ill patients are being treated as second class citizens. The argument was very weak because it was applied when black jurors were excluded simply because they were black. In the assisted suicide law, it is the patients themselves who request the help and are not singled out by others.

With this in 1997 the Death With Dignity law, as it is now named, went into effect.

Not giving up the cause, now it is United States Attorney General John Ashcroft who is leading the charge against the law. The basis for his intervention is that it violates the Controlled Substances Act that require that controlled substances to be administered for a medical purpose and assisted suicide is not one.

Federal Judge Robert E. Jones upheld the Oregon law allowing physician assisted suicide, ruling that the Justice Department does not have the authority to overturn it.

In his Ruling Judge Jones criticized Attorney General Ashcroft for seeking to nullify the state law. Judge Jones ordered the federal government to halt any efforts to prosecute Oregon physicians, pharmacists and other health care providers who participate in assisted suicide of terminally ill patients under Oregon law.

Judge Jones further stated ‘To allow an attorney general ‘ an appointed executive whose tenure depends entirely on what administration occupies the White House ‘ to determine the legitimacy of a particular medical practice without a specific congressional grant on such authority would be unprecedented.’

‘We are digesting the opinion’ said Ashcroft at a news conference. ‘The opinion will be evaluated in the department and the course of action taken by the department will be determined upon our complete reading of the opinion and evaluation of the circumstances.’

It is now generally expected that the Justice Department will appeal the ruling by Judge Jones to Ninth U. S. Court of Appeals.

These are only a few examples of dealing with death where a few zealots try to impose their beliefs on others. Some European countries, starting with the Netherlands have passed assisted suicide laws that are accepted by the citizens but those opposed to it are not trying to overturn it.

Our biggest fear should be that these same zealots will try to amend the US Constitution as they are trying to do with same sex marriage and burning of the American flag.

Finally a reminder. Daesene Willmann is in the Gallery with the ‘Directive to Physicians and Surrogate’ forms for you to fill out.

HOMILY: On Death and Dying,

Davidson Loehr

It is Halloween, the ancient holiday when the spirits mingle with us, when the shadow side comes to light, when we are offered the chance to integrate parts of our conscious and unconscious worlds.

The things that remain in the shadows are different for liberals and conservatives. Conservatives stereotypically favor laws over leeway, favor top-down decisions rather than individual rights. Liberals tilt the other way.

So for conservatives today, I hope their preachers are asking them to look at the neglected role of individual freedom to override dictates from above.

But to do that here would be redundundant, especially on a subject like a patient’s right to die. If we took a poll, I suspect we would be overwhelmingly in favor of honoring a patient’s decision, no matter what.

For the record, I agree with everything Henry has said. I think the laws must honor our wishes, and allow us to make decisions, even mistakes regarding our own life. After all, we do it every day of our lives. We do it when we choose our diet, our exercise program or lack of it, when we drive too fast, or after having a drink or when we are angry. Each of these decisions could end our life, and we make them every day. So why not honor it when we make a more explicit decision to die?

It would be too easy to argue in favor of something we already believe in. So I want to honor the spirit of Halloween by bringing to the surface some facts from the shadows, some doubts we should entertain. Life is bigger and more complex than we can know, and we should leave room for ambiguity, doubt and humility when making life-and-death decisions.

As usual, I’ve brought you some stories.

The first is the heroic way we like to imagine these things happening, and they way they really did happen with a wonderful man who belonged to a church I served a decade ago. He was a retired Classics professor, about 85, and his name was Victor. Victor was a very opinionated man, without a lot of doubts about what he wanted. And, when he was admitted to the hospital dying of several things ‘ though mostly, as he told me, of old age ‘ he filled out his patient’s rights form immediately, making it clear that he wanted no heroic measures, and did not want to be resuscitated.

But the word didn’t get passed to the night shift. So when Victor went into cardiac arrest in the middle of the night, they called in the team that put the electric paddles on his chest and gave him a terrific jolt of electricity to jump-start his heart, which it did. Victor’s eyes opened wide, he looked straight at the man who had held the paddles, and said very sternly ‘Don’t do that again!’ They didn’t, and those were his last words: he died a few minutes later.

I love that story, partly because it was so true to Victor’s wonderful spirit, and partly because I wish all such stories were so clear and unambiguous.

But they are not.

I know some of you read the story published in the New York Times on October 5th, with the title ‘On a Matter of Life or Death, a Patient Is Overruled,’ by a Dr. Sandeep Jauhar. A man in his mid-50s had had a heart attack and developed complications. His mind was sound, and he had told the medical staff that he was never under any conditions to be intubated ‘ to have a large oxygen tube put down into his lungs. Then he developed a condition where he either had to be intubated or he would die. He still refused, the medical staff overpowered him and put the oxygen tube into his lungs. After a few weeks of more complications, he finally stabilized, the tube was taken out and he was on the road to recovery. Once the tube was out, the doctor who had ordered the patient’s wishes overruled visited him, and said he was the one who had ordered the patient held down so the oxygen tube could be put in to save his life. ‘I know,’ said the patient. Then he added ‘Thank you.’

So the patient’s advance decision was not the same as his decision when his life had been saved and he was on the way to recovery. Yes, there are cases where the doctors overrule patients where we think the patients would hate it, then or later. But this is one where the patient acknowledged that even he had not be capable of making the decision he was now glad the doctors had made in spite of him.

Twenty years ago while I was writing my dissertation and working as a staff chaplain in downtown Chicago, I was part of a much more dramatic story. It was one of only two cases where it was the medical staff rather than the patient who called for the chaplain. It was an amazing story.

Mr. Robbins was 62, and had been told he was at risk for a stroke. On Friday night, he phoned Carol, his favorite daughter in California for their weekly chat. During that chat, he suddenly became very serious, and said that if he ever had a massive stroke, he would absolutely not want to live for one minute, and insisted that she promise she would honor those wishes.

She agreed.

The next morning, he had that stroke. He was completely paralyzed and I was told that he could not speak or communicate. Carol flew to Chicago, and by the time I got to the unit on Monday afternoon, she had already ordered all life-saving measures stopped. The doctors said that time heals some things even after a severe stroke, and that she needed to wait at least several months before ordering them to kill him, as they put it.

Carol pointed out that this was the least ambiguous case they could imagine, since she knew precisely what her father wanted done now. The fight with the medical staff continued for nearly a week, during which time they did sneak him services which she had forbidden. One by one, she discovered the heroic measures they were taking, and ordered them all stopped, including feeding him through a tube.

The chief resident was nearly hysterical, saying this was nothing less than the murder of a man who would undoubtedly recover some, maybe much, of his lost faculties. But Carol had a certainty about her father’s precise wishes that few of us will ever have.

It was during one of these heated confrontations ‘ almost all carried on by the bed, as though the patient were deaf as well as paralyzed ‘ that a nurse’s aide from the night shift who happened to be pulling a double shift that day spoke up. ‘Why don’t you ask him what he wants?’ she said. You could have heard a pin drop. When the doctor explained that he was paralyzed and incapable of communicating, she told us that she had worked out a signal system at night where he wiggled the tip of his little finger to answer Yes or No.

The medical staff quickly and wisely worked up a list of test questions, to make sure he was aware and really communicating, and about eight of us gathered around his bed for an interview I will never forget. They tried to trip him up by asking trick questions, like whether he had had a heart attack (he said No), or phoned his son (No), or if he was in California (No). Each time, his finger-wiggling showed us he was fully present and fully aware of his situation.

They asked if he had told his daughter Carol that he would not want to live for one minute if he had a massive paralyzing stroke, and he said Yes. They asked if he knew that he had, in fact, had that stroke, and he said Yes. They asked if he wanted to die, and he said No. He said No.

Because of the fluke of a nurse’s aide working two shifts who had taken the trouble to learn how to communicate with him, he was able to change his mind and choose the very life he had been sure, a week earlier, that he would not want for one minute.

When we create fights between a family’s wishes and the advice of doctors, we run the risk that doctors’ decisions may be mechanical and uncaring, and that family decisions may be caring but dangerously uninformed. In both these cases, the patient himself was not qualified to see the decision he would really want made. They judged their future as hopeless based on an inaccurate understanding, and when their decision was overruled, or when they had the chance to reverse it, they were thankful to be able to do so.

Forty years ago, my grandmother died. The doctors wanted to put her into a nursing home where she would receive professional medical care, and said she could expect to live for at least another nine months. She wanted to stay home and be cared for by her husband of sixty years, but they said without professional care, she would probably not live more than three months. ‘I choose,’ she told them, ‘to have three months of loving care rather than nine months of professional care. She stayed home, and died about three months later.

In life, we hope for more than just blind obedience by those who love us. We certainly don’t get blind obedience from them while we’re alive! We hope they will care for us intelligently. And we trust those closest to us to use their own judgment in caring for us, even when it contradicts our own. We can’t dictate to our most intelligent and caring friends when we’re alive, and we shouldn’t try to dictate to them over our dying.

I think it’s the most we can hope for in death and dying, as well. My own family is very small: I have just one brother. But if he were to make decisions about my life, I would want him to remember my dignity, remember what a gift life is, and remember that he loved me. And I would respect any decision that came from those memories, whether it would have been my decision or not.

And if I were charged with making those decisions for him, I would try to do it in the same way. And if my loving and informed decisions disagreed with his, I would forgive myself in advance ‘ as I know he would forgive me ‘ for caring for him in the way I thought best.

I hope we will have the kind of laws that Henry also hopes we will have. But within those laws, I hope to receive decisions that come from an informed caring ‘ even if they are different decisions than I would have made. I know some of you will disagree with this, so I invite you to think about what you would hope to receive, and to give.

It is Halloween, when spirits from the shadows join sunnier spirits. We welcome this uncomfortable mixture, for we know that the integration of both the sunny and shadowy spirits will make us more whole, and do honor to our participation in this amazing gift of life.

A Cross of Iron Revisited

© Martin Bryant

15 Aug 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

In the reading we were reminded of the numerous injunctions in the Judeo-Christian tradition which encourage us to peace.

The religious tradition which has served me personally with the greatest inspiration is the Tao-Te-Ching – the two thousand year old Chinese text:

I read from a recent translation by Stephen Mitchell

There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe. (from #46)

For every force there is a counterforce. Violence, even well intentioned, always rebounds upon itself. (#30)

Weapons are the tools of violence, the tools of fear and a decent person will avoid them except in the direst necessity and use them only with the utmost restraint. One’s enemies are not demons – but human beings, like oneself. Do not rejoice in victory – for every victory is a funeral for kin. (#31)

Give evil nothing to oppose and it will disappear itself. (#60)

There can be no wholeness in war – only in Peace is there wholeness

These are only a few of the countless passages we could find in all of the world’s spiritual texts that warn against building a culture, a civilization, driven by militarism. Only some of the many that would encourage us to peace and patience, compassion and understanding.

A year and a half ago, the world’s clergy stood almost completely united in their opposition to a unilateral action against Iraq. In Austin all three UU ministers, Rev. Loehr, Chuck Freeman, and Kathleen Ellis, all delivered very strong statements from the pulpit. They were joined not only by individuals, but by organizations of Catholics, Presbyterians, even George Bush’s Methodists.

However, many UUs are somewhat suspicious of religious texts and religious leaders. So I offer you an alternative authority.

Fifty years ago, in a world recovering from the greatest war it had ever known, a struggle against a fascist militaristic nation bent on world domination, and reeling from our use of the most horrible weaponry ever conceived, many of the world’s leaders spoke out about what they saw as an emerging problem, the increasing power and influence of the sponsors of the American military.

In his last writings, incomplete and found on his desk, Albert Einstein, thought by many to be among the most brilliant minds in a century – in fact Time Magazine’s “Man of the Century”, wrote the following words:

The conflict that exists today is no more than an old-style struggle for power, once again presented to mankind in semi-religious trappings. The difference is that, this time, the development of atomic power has imbued the struggle with a ghostly character; for both parties know and admit that, should the quarrel deteriorate into actual war, mankind is doomed. Despite this knowledge, statesmen in responsible positions on both sides continue to employ the well-known technique of seeking to intimidate and demoralize the opponent by marshaling superior military strength. They do so even though such a policy entails the risk of war and doom. Not one statesman in a position of responsibility has dared to pursue the only course that holds out any promise of peace, the course of supranational security, since for a statesman to follow such a course would be tantamount to political suicide. Political passions, once they have been fanned into flame, exact their victims. 

Albert Schweitzer gave up his career as a theologian to go back to school, learn medicine and practice healing among the poorest people in the world in Africa. With his lucent words and his life of service Schweitzer is known as perhaps the greatest philanthropist of the last fifty years.

In becoming supermen we have become monsters. We have permitted masses of people in wartime to be destroyed, whole cities with their inhabitants to be wiped out.., and human beings to be turned into blazing torches by flame throwers. We learn of these happenings through the radio and newspaper and judge them according to whether they bring success to the group of nations to which we belong or to our enemies. When we admit such things are an act of inhumanity we do so with the reservation that we are forced by the facts of war to let them happen.

When without further effort we resign ourselves to this fate we become ourselves guilty of barbarity. Today it is essential that we should all of us admit this inhumanity. The frightful experience that we have shared should arouse us to do everything possible in the hope that we can bring to pass an age when war shall be no more. This determination and this hope can lead only in one direction that we should attain by a new spirit that higher reasonableness that would prevent the unholy use of the might that is now in our command. (endquote)

Martin Luther King Jr was as much a power for peace as he was for Justice. Even as the Civil Rights movement he led began to transform our nation, King was turning his ministry to face what he saw as a growing emphasis on another kind of state sponsored violence:

A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death. Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men. (endquote)

But perhaps a more surprising voice spoke out as well – in 1953 Dwight David Eisenhower was President of the United States and perhaps the most famous soldier of his century. The most powerful man in the world, respected in every corner of the globe, and yet still worried about a growing power he could not counter: Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this: a modern brick school in more than thirty cities. It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000. It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals. It is some fifty miles of concrete highway. We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8000 people. This, I repeat, is the best way life to be found on the road the world has been taking. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron (endquote).

Where are our leaders today on this issue? Why is this voice stilled? The only voices who even approach this issue now are from the entertainment world. Our leaders have been silent since the days of Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, John Lennon, Bobby Kennedy, and Anwar Sadat. But perhaps I answer my own question’

In considering current affairs, perhaps it would be constructive to take an historical view of fairly recent US military engagements.

Let’s begin with the World War II. In the “Good War”, the United States was the “Sleeping Giant”. Like the Gary Cooper and Jimmy Stewart screen heroes of the day, the country was very slow to anger, but terrible in its wrath when it could take no more. The U.S. stood by while Germany and Japan attacked ally after ally, in “strong and silent” restraint, until it could be restrained no longer.

When America did enter the war, the country was unified in its resolve and unqualified in its success. With a good bit of help from some friends, America vanquished Hitler and took over 100,000 Japanese lives in two days to defeat Hirohito.

The result was that our country, while taking fewer casualties in Europe than Canada in World War II, was given the respect and appreciation of the world for the victories. And the resulting National self-satisfaction and “glory” was just enough to serve as salve for the deep wounds that war, even popular and successful war, always causes.

Since World War II, the US has been intoxicated with its success and power. With much more ready fists and trigger fingers, like the screen heroes portrayed by Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, and Chuck Norris, we’ve been ready to enter fights around the globe.

With George Bush the elder’s coalition forces, America endured 125 casualties in Desert Storm (many from friendly fire) while destroying over 3800 tanks, 1400 armored personnel carriers, and 141 planes and taking 60,000 prisoners and an unknown number of thousands of Iraqui lives in only a few days.

Do not though, in this election year, imagine I am making a partisan speech on a partisan issue. In 1997, dozens of countries from around the world signed a land mine ban treaty. The treaty, proposed by an American homemaker, and endorsed by the U.N., Princess Diana, and the Pope, outlaws the use of anti-personnel mines due to the horrible effects they have for generations on postwar civilian populations. The United States, led by then President Clinton would not sign this treaty because we are using land mines extensively in our ongoing border cold war in Korea.

In 1998, another international effort, endorsed by former President Carter, circulated another treaty outlawing the use of minors in combat. The signing countries agreed to end practices which currently have seen ten and twelve year olds toting automatic weapons and young girls of eight being used to detect land mines. The United States, because it actively recruits seventeen year olds for our military, would not sign this treaty either.

President Clinton’s refusal of both treaties describes our arrogance. We will simply not make any concession for peace.

And now our history arrives at September 11th, 2001. I do not wish to diminish those heinous acts, but before that awful day, terrorism in the United States was largely about white supremacists and animal rights groups. And since September 11th – we’ve hardly seen a rash of ongoing attacks. Al-Quaeda was a known threat by our intelligence organizations before September 11th and is a more prominent threat now.

But instead of declaring Al-Quaeda public enemy number one and employing the world’s cooperation and sympathy exclusively to track down these criminals and prevent them from doing further harm, President Bush declared war on “terror”.

If abstract “terror” or even generalized terrorism is our opponent – this is a war which we can engage in as long as we want to, because the enemy is of our own making and cannot be defeated. Truly, in the words of John Lennon – “war is over if you want it”.

And America entered into a war in Iraq. We have lost over six hundred American lives and perhaps fifteen times that number of Iraqui lives in this conflict and it does not seem near to any kind of end.

– We were told we entered this war because of the threat of weapons of mass destruction. We’ve not only not found evidence of these weapons, we remain the only world organization which has used weapons of mass destruction and we have discarded our efforts to control our exercise of them and set about building more.

– We were told we entered this war because of Hussein’s atrocities – However Hussein operated one of the more liberal totalitarian Arab countries (more liberal than our friends the Saudis for example or the Kuwaitis whose sovereignty we fought to protect) and we have turned our head from genocide in Africa and Southeast Asia.

– We were told we entered this war to liberate Iraquis and give them freedom. We were told this as our marines went into Haiti to deny those people their vote and depose their elected leader.

– It is apparent we entered this war for reasons that our leadership does not want made clear. And these reasons are mostly about money and power.

Ironically, the United States’ leading religion is Christianity and it is our deepest cultural heritage. Even employing the most pedestrian of translations, in the gospels, Jesus speaks three times more often of peace than he does of salvation. And yet this message from the “Prince of Peace” is lost across the millennia on our country and its leaders. President Bush, not Mother Teresa, or the Pope, has arguably become the most visible figure in Christendom. He often speaks of his devotion and practice of prayer. But it may be difficult to find a recent American leader who has so consistently made decisions which resulted in the deaths of others. It is easy to see how those of other cultures see this is a holy war on both sides when someone who seems to want to be seen as a religious leader is also such a military leader.

However, one finds little of a devout mentality in our use of “shock and awe” tactics against civilian populations and the bounties placed on Iraqui leaders. The President’s labeling the leaders of other nations “an axis of evil” – his military incursions in multiple spheres, his fear-mongering in the United States have generally served to increase the level of violence in the world. Will President Bush actually buy any measure of peace in the middle east with any of these deaths as President Carter did with peaceful diplomacy at Camp David? Is the world more peaceful or safe?

Christians and other Americans who have recently seen Mel Gibson’s film

“The Passion of the Christ” should ask themselves, does their nation more closely resemble a “Kingdom of God” with justice, forgiveness, and compassion as described by Jesus? One who would turn the other cheek and forgive those “who know not what they do”. Or does it more resemble the

Roman Empire – projecting itself through puppet governments, torture, occupying armies, and economic power all around the known world?

Five days a week we work, tithing almost ten percent of wages to our martial cause. On Sunday we come here, drop a few coins in the plate and occasionally talk and sing about peace.

As a frequent business traveler overseas – the reason why Arabs – and others including Jamaicans and Canadians resent us – is because of our “interventions”. With our World Bank, CIA, and active military – our meddling sows the fear and hatred that we reap – and our gluttonous consumption of resources and opulent wealth is the fertilizer.

In the last several years I’ve had the privilege to travel around the world in my work. In my travels, particularly in Saudi Arabia, I’ve found people open to discussing their image of our country and the relationship we have with them. I believe you would find the foreign press will reinforce my anecdotal reports that around the world the United States is perceived as a militaristic people who can be counted on to flex its muscle, often for peace, sometimes just to flex it.

But how can this be? Americans are the most diverse, generous, and freedom loving people on the planet. For every country we number among our enemies, we have substantial numbers of their descendents productively working among us. If we can be so closely allied with an absolute monarchy which permits no rights for women and no freedom of religion, there is no reason why we should not be able to find common ground with any nation on earth. Instead, our leadership seems to find new threats and new enemies for us daily.

This year we will spend almost a half trillion on our military. Around 100 billion of this is on the War in Iraq. Over ten billion is on strategic ballistic missiles. We will spend hundreds of billions more on the interest on prior military spending in the deficit. This amounts to half of the federal budget (omitting both veterans retirement and social security). By contrast we will spend almost $40 billion – less than 10% of the warfare budget – on foodstamps and welfare assistance programs. We will spend a recently cut $15 billion on NASA and about 135 million on renewable energy research.

Our military budget is not just more than the combined military budgets of pre-war Iraq, Afghanistan, North Korea, and Cuba – it is more than the combined gross national product of these countries. Even more amazing – our military budget is 40% of all military spending worldwide – significantly larger than the next ten largest military budgets in the world combined. Do any of these next ten military budgets represent our enemies? Even China in this number has “most favored nation” status.

Our “pseudo-governmental” economic powers also spend tens of billions on world bank loans that manipulate foreign governments by gaining economic control over them. And our CIA is involved in not just research, but active manipulation of governments in many regions. Manipulations which may have included assassination and coup. Manipulations which on several occasions have trained and armed those who would later threaten us – and who cause instability and fear in their regions.

Frankly – we are bullies – who force others to accept our version of what is “right for them” or “right for us” and enforce this with our might and money.

In the half century since World War II, we have built the Greatest Warrior Nation the world has ever known. We here in this room are responsible for the greatest warrior nation the world has ever known. We are responsible to the extent we have a democracy, and if we deny responsibility we are responsible for the decline in our democracy, and the pain that decline has inflicted on our world.

Who are our enemies? What do we fear? After the cold war, the greatest threat to America perhaps is terrorism, and our stealth bombers and aircraft carriers don’t protect us from this. In fact our image as the great bully makes us more vulnerable to terrorism.

In a sense, with our inappropriate level of military power and aggressive foreign policy, for small countries and political entities we are terrorists, and terrorism is an appropriate response.

Al Quaeda is not recent and not a Bin-Laden personality cult – this is a long standing organization which desires new government in Saudi Arabia. It is not a regime change our government sees in our best interest, and so we continue to support the Saudi monarchy. These revolutionaries, who have committed loathsome acts of international terrorism – have no self determination at the ballot box. And they have no recourse in part because of our support of their non-democratic process. Revolutions are always bloody and we share in responsibility for their actions because we have abandoned our ideals in their region.

Now more than ever, the only thing we have to fear, is fear itself. Fear wich has become our national policy. A national policy of internal and external fear-mongering that is holding back and holding down our own economy.

Instead of reassurance to other countries, we exhibit arrogance and hypocrisy. Our elections are far from perfect – moneyed interests have too much influence. Our current President did not get a majority of the popular vote. We have serious social problems which indicate that in our quest for freedom we may have lost some of our spiritual and moral center. Our economic system has served to widen the gap between rich and poor. Even so, we are often gluttons – consuming too much food – too much energy – too much of our planet – often just for pleasure – and seeming to flaunt our blessings in the face of those with less – much less.

What about patriotism? Has my apparent cynicism about our world role destroyed my loyalty to America? No.

I hold in high regard the ideals of our nation – ideals of a people

– who were established holding that all are created equal

– who had the courage to cross oceans and climb mountains to settle uncharted territories

– who believed in self-determination and representative government and economic freedom

– who believed in community and were ruled by town meetings and helped their neighbors

– the nation that gave birth to Henry Thoreau, Jack Kerouac jazz and rock and roll.

– who had the ingenuity and dedication to walk on the moon

A people who have fought and died and sacrificed money and advantage for freedom – freedom which has brought us cultural wealth and yes, economic wealth beyond our wildest dreams. A people who have become the most diverse and free culture in the history of the planet – a celebration of human life.

But we have become a people that do not dream big and go boldly where no one has gone before. Rather we are becoming a people who fear the “unraveling” that we see tearing at other parts of the world. We worry that frequent terrorism, more rampant disease, more harsh poverty, and shortages will come here and threaten our families, our way of life, our “stuff”. We are called by our government, not to bravely endeavor together to solve our problems and the problems of the world, but to fear.

Have we become a people that rather than strive to rise ourselves and lead, have set ourselves to holding others down so that we may remain ontop? Can we do this and remain the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Rather than fear the unraveling by batting at everything that might be pulling on a thread – we Americans should start knitting.

Across a small bit of the Hudson Bay from the gaping hole in New York City which is reminder of a horrifying day stands the Statue of Liberty. In the nineteenth century, the statue was gift to the United States from France – recognizing our world leadership not military leadership in time of war – but a leadership of ideas authored, in part by our Unitarian predecessors Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Ralph Waldo Emerson among many others. Leadership which inspired others to struggle for their own freedom.

Today our world leadership includes violent movies and violent music, economic manipulation and intrigue, unethical corporations, weapons systems, standing armies and fear. What kind of monument will other countries build for us today?

Former President, and recent Nobel Peace Prize winner Jimmy Carter reminds us: It is important for us to remember that the United States did not invent human rights – rather human rights invented the United States.

Perhaps it is time for us to return to and struggle to deserve this heritage.

President George H. Bush, the elder, has called the challenge presented by the “conspiracy” of globally organized terror “the greatest challenge any American President has faced since Lincoln”. That other Republican President, almost a century and a half ago, wrote something that haunts me: I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. As a result of the war, financial interests have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed. (endquote)

If you, like me, are willing to call corporate control of the American government and military a conspiracy of globally organized terror – then I think we can agree with both Presidents Bush and Lincoln.

I propose to face such a challenge, we will need true patriotism, the kind of patriotism that springs from a people whose government truly represents the diverse and moral people that they are. The patriotism of a people proud of our communal life and our relations with others. It is important that we reclaim a foreign policy not driven by self interest or even national interest – but a foreign policy that represents the highest values and cultural diversity of our great people.

After World War II, around the time of my birth, our society undertook the great struggle of the modern civil rights movement. Though incomplete, great progress has been made over the last half century. This effort has been fifty years in developing, it make take another fifty, but it is a struggle for the nation’s soul, and we are winning it. And this great struggle began right here – in the pulpits of Unitarian Univeralist and other churches. It began right here – in the hearts and consciences of our people.

I call us to a new struggle. One that is no less for our collective salvation and no lesser a task. This will not be easy. We will first have to reclaim our democracy from those with both the power of money and the power of lethal force and the proven willingness to use them.

Like the struggle for Civil rights – neither party in our political system will face this issue, unless forced. Those who run our country have proven that their loyalties are to these financial interests first and the rest of us somewhat later. John Kerry and the Democrats in convention were intentionally jingoistic, marching to a martial tune.

To do this, we must be patriotic in the traditional sense – we must be willing to assert our democratic right, nay our responsibility, of dissent. Because this will require no less than our “taking back” our foreign policy and demanding that it reflect our values.

It will require us to re-evaluate the costs to our society and psyche of our role as a great warrior nation and global bully.

It will require us to realize that freedom and self-determination mean that we have the patience to refrain from manipulating other countries to our ends with our money and intrigues so that they can govern themselves and participate as working peers, friends in our global community.

It will require us to insist on restraint that when it comes to defining our “national interests” and it will require us to insist on ethical behavior from our leaders.

It will require us as a community to take control of our military – and even more difficult – our CIA and World Bank

It will require us to speak our minds at the dinner table, water cooler, and here in the pulpit.

It will require us to march in the streets and vote at the ballot box.

It will require us to try and understand why people, not so very different from us, would die to attack us.

It will require us to, as we did in the middle part of the last century in the face of economic crises and World War to eschew fear and make examples of ourselves in the world – translating our character as a people into true world leadership

It will require us to reach out to other nations with trust, trade, and peace and not manipulation and fear.

It will require us to become true patriots that build an inspiring nation all can be proud of.

It will require us – as it did for Gandhi and King to go to jail in civil disobedience. and it will require us to find brave leaders who will risk all, even life itself, to realize change.

It will require us to see our enemies, not as such – but rather as human beings.

It will require us to live the Peace we sing about.

On Being a Morning Person

Don Smith

July 18, 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PRAYER

Let our prayer be a prayer for remembrance.

Let us remember that today, like every day, is a holy day. It is a gift of time, freely given to all that lives. May we honor this day by using it well.

Let us remember that today, like every day, is a judgment day. It is a day with infinite opportunities to do either good or evil. May we choose to do the good and to fight the evil, so that, at the end the day, we may judge ourselves gently.

Let us remember that there are those among us today who hurt and whose pain takes away the gifts that others enjoy. May we do what we can to ease their pain.

Let us remember that there are those among us today who struggle with problems that may seem too big to manage. May we do what we can to lighten their load and help them on their way.

Let us remember that there are those among us who are lonely, even in the midst of the crowd. May we offer a kind word, a friendly smile, and the hope of new friendship.

Let us remember, again, that each day brings with it new opportunities. May we strive not so much to do more, but to do better.

SERMON

What does it mean to be a morning person? What I want to do this morning is try to describe a way of viewing the world that, to my mind, constitutes being a morning person. Bear with me if I seem to wander about; I think the picture will come into focus before I’m done, and I trust you to tell me if it doesn’t.

In his book with the audacious title How the Mind Works, Stephen Pinker posits that it is primarily through metaphors that we understand our world and I agree with him. I think this is especially true in areas outside the hard sciences, when it comes to contemplating our lives, what we’re doing with them, and the meaning we assign to things, independent of their concrete facts. Most all religious texts, poetry, great literature, and songs are filled with metaphors.

Since being a morning person is a metaphor of my own creation (although I’m sure I’m not the first to use it) we’ll consider some other, perhaps more familiar metaphors–along with some lesser-known personal favorites–to try to narrow in on my conception of what it means to be a morning person.

Let’s start with a metaphor from the New Testament; a metaphor used in two ways. The first is found in the Gospels. We’re told by these writers that Jesus once said to his disciples “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: For of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.”

The second comes from St. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians. He wrote “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

The same metaphor “that of being childlike” is used to express seemingly opposite ideas, as something to embrace and something to shun. But is that really the case?

Our responsive reading this morning was, to my mind, at least, an explication of Jesus’ words. If all people had the spirit of a child–if all people trusted, imagined, sang, received the beauty of the world without reservation, were filled with wonder and delight and a faith that could cure them of their cynicism and make them unafraid to need and to love’then I believe we truly would be living in the kingdom of God.

Looking at the larger context of the letter to the Corinthians, it becomes apparent that when Paul told the Corinthians that they must put away childish things he was speaking of childish, that is to say, overly simplistic views of the meaning of spiritual teachings. Spiritual teachings taken as literal truths lose their power to inspire us and lift us up. Instead, they become dead and suffocating things. They block our ability to see the world as Jesus would have us see it, with the wonder, honesty, and simplicity of a child. It’s like reading those words by Jesus and taking them to mean that heaven is a physical place peopled only by children. That really doesn’t provide a lot of hope or inspiration for those of us who have made it into adulthood, does it?

Having been raised in a fundamentalist Christian church–where the Bible is taken as literal truth, even in matters historical and scientific– I was taught, for example, that creation was a one-time event. God created the universe and everything in it over a period of six days. It’s been running its course according to God’s plan ever since, and it will be destroyed at some unknown point in the future. Our main concern in life should be making sure that when the world ends we’re part of the “elect”, meaning those who are destined for heaven. Heaven, in this worldview, is some distant place where all is perfect. And we can get there, but not in this life.

Now, contrast that view of things with the view expressed by Thoreau when he wrote in Walden that “The morning wind forever blows. The poem of creation is uninterrupted, but few are the ears that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the world everywhere.” This is a radically different view than the one I was taught, is it not? Creation, rather than being an historical fact, is an ongoing process. Olympus’ home of the gods, or heaven is all around us. We need only wake up to that realization and live our lives accordingly in order to experience it. Heaven is, or can be, here, now.

The first attribute of a morning person is this: A morning person sees creation as an ongoing process in which he or she has a part to play. And the second attribute of a morning person is this: A morning person believes that his or her part is important and can have an impact on the world. These two attributes go hand in hand.

In her song “The Dream Before”, Laurie Anderson writes these words (and for what it’s worth, the scene is a conversation between Hansel and Gretel, who, we are told, are alive and well and living in Berlin):

She said, “What is history?”

And he said, “History is an angel being blown backwards into the future.”

He said, “History is a pile of debris, and the angel wants to go back and fix things, to repair the things that have been broken. But there is a storm blowing from Paradise. And the storm keeps blowing the angel backwards, into the future. And this storm, this storm, is called Progress.”

I think about those words quite a bit. It’s a wonderful image. It’s the way I see much of our human endeavors. While I agree that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, I sometimes think that we spend too much time analyzing and agonizing over the mistakes of the past, and not enough time dreaming about the future. I’m reminded of Bobby Kennedy when he said “There are those who look at things the way they are and ask why. I dream of things that never were and ask ‘Why not?'” Those are the words of a morning person.

Many among us believe that all we need to do in order to make the world better is to go back to some earlier time, before we made some huge mistake or went off in some wrong direction. I suppose we all wish from time to time that we could go back and get a second chance at things.

And I think we’re all angels trying to fix things, but I believe we need to turn around and face the future. Rather than fighting progress, let progress be the wind at our back–the morning wind that forever blows, carrying us in the direction that we need to go. To quote Thoreau again, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.”

The third attribute of a morning person, then, is that he or she embraces the idea of progress. Even though we may question what true progress is–and that’s too broad a question to address in the time we have this morning–we must believe in our ability to move beyond where we are today, both individually and as a species. We must believe that a better future is possible, and that our dreams can be realized.

In every age there have been prophets of doom, people who see no hope for the future. Looking only at what’s wrong with the world, they give in to a cynicism that eats at the core of their faith, regardless of what it is that they have faith in. They overlook all the good that is done, daily, by the majority of people. They forget how many trials and tribulations humanity has endured, and how great some of those have been. It’s easy to do; too easy, I’m afraid.

Emerson, in an address to the Phi Beta Kappa society at Harvard and published under the title The American Scholar, said that we must have “the courage to call a popgun a popgun, though the ancient and honorable of the earth affirm it to be the crack of doom.” How many events have been declared the beginning of the end, if not the end itself, only to pass into history as nothing but another obstacle over which humanity has stepped in our long and steady progression through time. Marcus Aurelius, using another wonderful metaphor, said “History is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is it’s current; no sooner has a thing been brought into sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.”

A morning person embraces a spirit of optimism and fights against the cynicism that comes to us all too frequently, and all too easily.

This may sound like an overly simplistic, even naive view of things; a view that could only be embraced by Professor Pangloss. You remember Professor Pangloss? In Voltaire’s story Candide, Professor Pangloss is the teacher who asserts that “all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.” But as Candide learns, through many trials and tribulations, his beloved Professor Pangloss is not correct. Everything is not for the best. In the final lines of the work, using yet another wonderful metaphor, Candide sums up what he has learned by saying that “we must cultivate our gardens.” And that brings us to a discussion of how a morning person conducts his or her life.

I’m a gardener, and I can tell you that any gardener knows, as they pull the weeds from their garden, that the weeds will return. It’s the way of the world, and not to be changed. But we pull the weeds anyway. Because to not pull the weeds is to abandon the garden, and this we cannot do.

A morning person continues to work for the good, not with the naive hope of eradicating evil, not because they believe they can solve all the problems of the world, but because it’s the thing to do. Bodil Jonsson, the Swedish physicist, writes in her book Unwinding the Clock “it doesn’t befit a human being to give up. The future is not some mountainside we’re all going to smash into. Nor is it some kind of precipice and we’re all going to fall off the edge. We’ll do what people have always done. We’ll try.” A morning person tries.

Winston Churchill was a morning person when he said to a group of elementary school students “Never, never, never give up.” Martin Luther King, Jr. was a morning person when he delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech.

A morning person holds fast to his or her belief that a better world is not only possible, but assured. The future is not something to fear, but to work for.

What kind of future do I want for myself and my children? What kind of world do I want to live in? What can I do to move in that direction? These are the questions that a morning person asks.

I have to confess that, although I am by nature a morning person in the literal sense, I sometimes have to work at being a morning person in the figurative sense. It’s not always easy, when I look around me and see some of the things going on in the world, to be a morning person. But that’s what I want to be, and it’s why I come here. I rely on you’on this community’to help me continue in the way of a morning person. And for that reason I also ask “What kind of future do I want for this church?” “What kind of church do I want to be a part of?” “What can I do to move us in that direction?”

What about you? What do you need in your life? In times of despair, where or from whom have you found strength?

I want to close with some words from the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

Optimism is by its nature not a goal for the present situation but a life-force,

A force for hope when others give up,

A force for withstanding setbacks, a force that never surrenders the future to pessimism but rather requisitions it for hope.

He wrote those words while he sat in a German concentration camp, awaiting execution. He’d been sentenced to be hanged for his part in a plot to remove Hitler from power. Listen again to the words of a morning person.

Optimism is by its nature not a goal for the present situation but a life-force,

A force for hope when others give up,

A force for withstanding setbacks, a force that never surrenders the future to pessimism but rather requisitions it for hope.

I don’t know what else I could say.

When Winning Is The Only Thing

© Jim Checkley

July 11, 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

CENTERING

How do we define winning? It makes a difference.

Used to be that winning was not just about the scoreboard. Used to be that the scoreboard wasn’t the only thing. Can we still say that’s true?

From Little League to pro sports we hear again and again that losing hurts worse than winning feels good. Why is that? Why does losing hurt worse than winning feels good? Could it be that winning is expected, is the only thing, and winning is therefore more a relief than a joy, while losing is a dreaded, hated thing, just like the losers themselves?

When coaches say that their job is to bring out the champion in every player, are they speaking metaphorically or literally? Do you have to be a literal champion, win a championship, a gold medal, or is it OK to simply do your best, to become the best you can be?

If winning is about working to achieve success, and if success is, as the great UCLA coach John Wooden says, the piece of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best that you can be, then why are coaches and players fired, vilified in the press, booed, given death threats, and disrespected if they achieve success but still lose? Why is it that the great unifying principle for all these totured souls is losing?

Maybe it’s because Vince Lombardi was right: maybe its because when it comes time to walk the walk instead of talk the talk, when it gets down to brass knuckles and gut feelings, winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.

SERMON

I have been thinking about doing a sermon on sports and its impact on society for many years. But not as many years as I’ve known our own John Sanders. I’ve known John for almost the entire time I’ve been in Texas’going on 27 years. Last year John sent me some clippings from the newspaper about sportsmanship in Little League and sports generally and included a short note suggesting it was time to do a sermon on the obsession with winning that seems to be the hallmark of our culture. So here I am..

The article that John sent to me concerned a Little League baseball player who had broken some rules at home and whose parents had grounded him. Pretty typical. But then a strange thing had happened. Once the child explained to his friends that he was grounded and was going to miss a game or two as a result, the parents of the other children on the Little League team began calling and complaining to the grounded boy’s parents that his punishment wasn’t fair. The calls were many, frequent, and some were quite angry.

Why all the fuss? Well, the grounded child was the best player on the Little League team. Without him, it was much more likely the team would lose the games he was going to miss. This was so upsetting to the other players and their parents that they called to complain. So the parents of this child, in the aftermath, had written to one of those columnists who write about ethics to ask if they had done the right thing. Or was grounding their child wrong because the other children might, as a result, end up losing a Little League baseball game?

The columnist reassured the parents that they had done the right thing and spent most of his column complaining that the preoccupation with winning that seemed to grip the country had gotten out of hand. He lamented that the need to win, the desire to win, almost at any cost, and at any level, had become increasingly rampant and was becoming a real problem in our society.

The first thing I thought of reading that article was Green Bay Packer’s coach Vince Lombardi and his famous quote that “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing,” the quote from which I took the title of the sermon. If any single expression captures America’s obsession with winning, this is it. There are several sources on the Internet that claim that Coach Lombardi did not actually utter these words. But it doesn’t matter. Did Humphry Bogart say “Play it again Sam?” Did Carl Sagan say: “Billions and billions and billions?” Did Marshall McLuhan say: “The media is the message?” No, none of them did. But all these expressions are now American icons.

And while many individuals would dispute Coach Lombardi, and there are hundreds of articles claiming that winning is not the only thing, I think that the expression winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing has taken on a life of its own over the last 40 years. And while I do not blame Coach Lombardi directly for the escalation in the competitive environment in America and the obsession with winning that has accompanied it, the notion that winning is the only thing is, I believe, at the heart of many of the dilemmas we find in sports, business, culture, and society generally. Because I believe that we, as a society, have bought into that expression, and that it lies behind much of who we are and what we do as a culture.

I thought I would be doing a little sermon on the dangers of emphasizing winning to the exclusion of other important aspects of life, but I quickly realized that this is a huge topic, one that crosses many disciplines and aspects of culture. Indeed, it was a struggle to try to synthesize just a few aspects of this issue into a twenty-minute talk. For instance, I have neither the time nor the inclination to explore how American culture got to the point where winning a Little League game is so important it is worth challenging your neighbors’ choice of discipline or allowing a boy who is 2 years overage to play in order to win the Little League World Series, something that happened just a couple of years ago. Instead, I’d simply like to make a few observations on the effects of elevating winning to the status of the only thing and look at how this phenomenon is not limited to sports, but affects all we do.

I grew up in the 1960s and early 70s, a time when sports, while still a significant part of American culture, were not nearly as important or as available as they are today. Most people were content to deal with sports on the weekend on TV and check on the progress of the season in the paper or listen to the home team on the radio. Those of you under 30 might not believe it, but 40 years ago, one couldn’t just pop the TV on any given night and have a smorgasbord of sports waiting for the watching. There was no Monday Night Football, no superstation cable outlets, no magazines devoted to recruiting high school kids to college, no broadcasts of pro sports drafts, and, best of all from my point of view, sports had not yet degenerated into 24/7 sports talk radio and TV. Look, I love sports, played organized baseball, football, and basketball and ran track and cross country, but all this gossip about sports has really pushed me over the edge.

Can I just say the obvious: sports are a huge part of American culture. Major sporting events like the Superbowl, the World Series, the NBA Finals, the Stanley Cup Finals, Grand Slam tennis and Major golf events, the Triple Crown of horse racing, the Olympics, the World Cup, all these events and many more produce an almost continuous current of competition, triumph, and defeat that is at once iconic and in a sense, religious. If religion is that which binds us together, well, little binds the country together more than sports.

Since the creation of ESPN in 1979, sports have developed into one of the most powerful and dominant aspects of our culture. ESPN stands for the Entertainment and Sports Programming Network’although I often call it the ETERNAL Sports Programming Network’and is the single most important thing that happened to sports since the invention of the television. ESPN, Disney, and the American Broadcasting Company have common ownership: sports, fantasy, and television’what a combination.

Today players are paid not just in the millions, but in the hundreds of millions of dollars to play kids’ games for a living. Millions of fans metaphorically live and die by the success of their teams’and by success I mean winning and losing. And because of the proliferation and growth of sports, seasons have become extended, overlap, and never seem to end. Even when the teams aren’t actually playing, they are being talked about on thousands of outlets across the country. Sports in America have grown to the point where the personalities are almost as important as the games, where the culture is almost as important as the scores, and where, at every level, winning seems to be the paramount concern.

Jacques Barzun, the great Columbia University historian, commented years ago that to understand the American character one should understand baseball because that sport encompassed so much of what made America unique. I submit to you today that to understand the American character one should understand sports generally because our attitude towards sports reflects our attitude towards the rest of our culture. The way we play the games of our sports culture is, I think, reflective of how we will play the game of life.

We as a culture, as a society, have bought into the Vince Lombardi attitude about winning. American society, already competitive, already individualistic, has become obsessed with winning. In fact, Jerome Holtzman claims that “Losing is the great American sin.” There are many who would agree with him.

And while it may have started in the sports world, this attitude has spread to every aspect of culture, including business, law, and every corner of society. It is very different from the days when I used to go to the Boys’ Club of Clifton and there was a huge sign on the wall in the gym that said: “It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.” While everybody, including me, tried our best to win, and winning was important to us, make no mistake, my coaches for the most part displayed the attitude that if you gave your best, then the final score was not what was most important. I visited my old Boy’s Club’now the Boys’ and Girls’ Club’about 10 years ago and that sign was gone. And I frankly don’t expect them to put up another one any time soon.

The promotion of sports in our culture to the highest levels of importance and the growth of sports into a multi-billion dollar business has elevated winning to the point where it does seem to have become the only thing. This is a dangerous situation. I think we get in trouble when we are only focused on winning because eventually, everything else about the game becomes secondary or expendable. If winning is the only thing, how can there be room for anything else?

Sportsmanship is eventually sacrificed to winning; civility is sacrificed to winning; respect is sacrificed to winning; character is sacrificed to winning; playing by the rules is sacrificed to winning. All the reasons we are told sports are good for us fade away. Being honorable becomes a liability that many people question if not outright think is foolish. Like the heel of a shoe that wears down only gradually, so gradually that we don’t even realize it until we try on a new pair, all other aspects of competition slowly erode when winning is the only thing. And I’m not just talking about this happening in sports. This sort of phenomenon happens in business, in culture, in religion, in society, in any group where the emphasis on winning pushes other considerations aside. American culture has become, to an extent that I frankly have difficulty putting up with, a culture absolutely dominated by competition for everything and the attitude that winning is the only thing.

Having said that, I want to say that I don’t think that either competition or winning is necessarily a bad thing. My complaint goes more to a loss of perspective, to a loss of balance, and the ripple effect that occurs when society decides that winning is the only thing.

Let me give you an analogy to what I mean. Ralph Waldo Emerson said: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” That saying is often misquoted and people often forget the foolish part. But that is the key to the saying. What Emerson was telling us is that consistency for its own sake’a foolish consistency’is the hobgoblin. What I am saying is that when winning becomes the only thing, pushes everything else to the side, that is the hobgoblin.

Speaking of hobgoblin’s, one of my least favorite side-effects of winning at all costs is that it has turned us into a much less civilized society. When winning is the only thing there is a tendency to break the rules, to cheat, to develop an us/them attitude that leads to disrespect, meanness, unsportsmanlike conduct, and tends to dehumanize, if not demonize, the other side. In short, when winning is the only thing it is simply much less pleasant to play the game.

Let me share with you my least favorite, but most apropos, example of what I mean. It happened at a Westlake High School football game a few years ago. I forget who Westlake was playing that day, but I will never forget how a vocal group of parents and fans behaved. There was a player on the other team who was quite good and doing quite well. These Westlake fans, who were used to steam rolling opponents, were literally yelling for the Westlake players to hurt this kid so he could no longer participate in the game. I, like most of you, I’m sure, have heard foul mouthed fans at a game before. But for some reason, this particular behavior touched me more deeply than some other similar behavior I have seen. I was instantly both angry and depressed and I just sat there thinking: this is one of your neighbor’s kids. He’s one of us, a part of our community. And you want him hurt because he’s a good player and Westlake might possibly, God forbid, lose a game?

There are hundreds of stories like this from Little League parents who scream at the umpires, the coaches, and the players, to my own experience in the practice of law, which I (and my partners) have found has become much nastier over the 22 years I have practiced, to the escalation of road rage that we have all heard about if not experienced. It is this lack of civility on the road that most amazes me. Tens of thousands of people die on the roads each year and you’d think we could be civil to each other when our very lives are at stake. But that doesn’t happen nearly as much as it should. I mean, wouldn’t you think you were dreaming if some day you were driving to work during rush hour and all the people driving SUVs, Hummers, oversized pick-up trucks, and other urban assault vehicles yielded when the lanes were merging or didn’t speed up when you needed to change lanes, or just gave a wave of the hand in thanks when you yielded? Winning is the only thing tends to escalate competition to the point where it leads to tremendous stress and strain, whether we are talking about a softball game, a lawsuit, turning a corporate profit, or getting to work on time.

Because of our cultural focus on winning, of making winning the only thing, and the escalation of competition that accompanies it, I am coming to the conclusion that we do not actually live in a civilization anymore. Some years ago I coined a word for what I think our society is becoming: I call it a “competitivization” – a society where competition is the single most important and paramount feature of the culture, one where, increasingly, we act as if only winners matter and losers are soon forgotten. Competition in my view has simply swamped cooperation, and with it our sense of community, with one exception: people on the same team (‘us’) will cooperate against another team (‘them’). People complain that there is no sense of community anymore. Well, how in the world can there be when we emphasize so strongly the success of the individual, individual competition, winning, and have established such a strong win/lose and us/them society that we often don’t even act civilly to one another?

I’d like to shift gears here and look at another aspect of sports that I think has made its way into our culture, and not for the better. This is in the area of personal responsibility. What I suggest may not be as obvious as winning is the only thing, but see if it doesn’t ring true to you.

All sports have a referee or an umpire. In a sporting event, the players are used to allowing somebody else to take responsibility for what is right and wrong in the game. In this sense, in sports, the responsibility for playing by the rules has been externalized. While the player remains responsible for playing by the rules, he is not responsible for enforcing them. That role is delegated to the official. Players are not only encouraged to accept the judgment of an outside official on issues of fouls, in or out of bounds, and the like, the game requires that they do so. I think this externalization of responsibility has evolved to the point where players, ever eager and needing to win, have a mind set that allows them to feel comfortable if the official misses a call or botches a call that is in their favor because that is simply part of the game and the player need not take responsibility for it. And fans accept it too So while players, coaches, and fans will rant against calls that hurt their chances of wining, nobody complains when a blown call is in their favor. In fact, how weird would it have been if John McEnroe, infamous for his obnoxious arguments with officials who made calls he disagreed with, had argued just a vociferously if the umpire made a call that worked in his favor, even if he and everybody on his “side” knew it? That’s not his responsibility. If a call is missed, that responsibility lies with the official, not the player.

Now, you can talk about sportsmanship, and in the movie Bagger Vance, the golf pro calls a foul on himself, and thus costs himself the match, but when winning is the only thing, how can an ordinary person afford to call a foul on him or her self? Especially in the modern era when millions upon millions of dollars are at stake, if a receiver catches a game winning touchdown in the Superbowl, and he knows he was out of bounds, but the referee didn’t see it and the instant replays don’t show it, how can we ever expect him to fess up? Lots of people would think he was an idiot to fess up. Moreover, even more insidiously, it is simply not his job, don’t you see, to make that call. It’s the referee’s job and the player not only can, but must, abdicate personal responsibility to that referee. It’s not the player’s fault; it’s the referee’s.

I believe we have expanded this externalization of responsibility for our actions that is required on the playing field to culture in general to the point where we no longer see ourselves as the primary enforcer of the rules of the game, and moreover, if we break the rules and are not caught, then it’s not our fault. The fault lies with the referees, as it were, for failing to catch us.

I’d go so far as to say that in many ways, we have, as a culture, externalized responsibility for our actions to the point where many people act as if unless one is caught, then there is no harm. I mean, if the umpire blows a call, or misses a call, we accept it and move on with the game and it’s not the player’s responsibility to call a foul or an out of bounds on him or her self and fix it. So why not in life? After all, it’s the job of the police, or the SEC, or the FBI, or our boss, or our spouse, or somebody else, to discover our flaw, mistake, error, or violation. If they don’t, well, then let the game go on.

I have an expression for this phenomenon as well: I call it “no foul, no harm.” Anybody who has played pick-up sports knows the expression, “no harm, no foul.” It means that even if you technically broke the rules, we won’t stop play because what you did, did not affect the play. There was no harm. But now, many people seem to act like the rule should be “no foul, no harm.” The notion is that unless we are caught, then there is no harm’it’s just part of the game. The breaking of the rules becomes not so much an issue of character or ethics, but one of simple practicality. What matters is not how you played the game, but whether you were caught. And if you can break the rules in ways that allow you to have less chance of getting caught, so much the better. Let me sum this up with a question: If NFL linemen are taught how to hold without getting caught, something that many sports commentators not only claim, but seem to admire, then is it any wonder if our kids think it’s OK to cheat so long as you don’t get caught?

The attitude of winning at all costs, and with it, kicking up competition several notches, along with the externalization of responsibility for one’s actions, combine to create real problems for anybody who dislikes the culture of winning and wants to behave civilly, ethically, and do the right thing. The problem is that when everybody is playing by a set of rules that implicitly condones the notion that winning is the only thing, what do you do if winning means having to cheat, or behave belligerently, or hurt some kid from up the street, or ignore the rules? As was noted in the reading today from the New York Times, the problem of rampant breaking of the rules in order to win in a highly competitive market is being perceived in the business world as a real problem. When winning is the only thing, when competition gets out of hand, then whatever gives you a competitive advantage is OK. And if everybody else is doing it, then what choice do you have?

Look, what the writer of the Times’ business editorial I read earlier today is saying is no different in theory from one of us telling a policeman who has pulled us over for speeding that we were just going with the flow of traffic. Were you doing 80 in a 65 zone? Sure you were, but you have just externalized responsibility for breaking the speed limit. The traffic made me do it, you say. And you have a point’especially if all that traffic swooping past you makes you feel unsafe limping along at the posted speed limit. That’s why this is such a tough issue.

But let me raise the stakes. If the CEO of a major corporation says yes, I was breaking a few rules, but the market made me do it, are you going to be sympathetic to him or her? Are you going to cut him or her the same slack you cut yourself on the highway when you consciously decided to speed to keep up with the traffic? Probably not. But all that CEO was doing was conducting business with the flow of ethics and doing what was necessary to win.

Or, then again, you might say, with some cynicism, that his big mistake was getting caught. You might see this like the NFL linemen who are taught how to hold and decide that the CEO simply was not good enough and got caught’lost’which is the ultimate sin. I’ve heard many people in business, politics, and other non-sports environments say: “his big mistake was getting caught.” And I ask you: what’s up with that expression? It implies that it’s OK to cheat, to do whatever it takes to win, so long as we don’t get caught. It’s a perfect example of my expression,”no foul, no harm.” Everything is OK because we have externalized our responsibility for our choices. Everything is OK because winning is the only thing and this will help us win. I think that this, right here, is one of the real challenges of American culture.

Given these challenges, if we care about winning but don’t have any desire to compromise our principles and integrity in the process, what do we do? I’ll be blunt with you and say that in the absence of a cosmic umpire, it is sometimes very difficult to justify playing by the rules when nobody else does. It just depends on what ends up being important to you’which is, of course, very Unitarian. But I reiterate that if you decide to take a stand, if you believe that winning is not the only thing, that there are other things that matter just as much if not more, then you need to understand that doing the right thing can cost you’sometimes a lot’especially when everybody else, or nearly everybody else, is cheating and not just getting away with it, but is somehow, in a perverse way, encouraged to cheat by the very competitive environment we ourselves have created.

Those of you who know me, know I can’t do a sermon without a pop culture reference. So if you want to know what price sometimes has to be paid for doing the right thing, then I’d suggest you go see Spider-Man 2. The first hour of that film is about the following question: when you have great power and you take great responsibility as a result, what are the consequences? We see in the movie that being Spider-Man, of doing what’s right, takes a great toll on Peter Parker, who is failing school, being fired from his jobs, has let down his Aunt May, and has pushed the love of his life to the breaking point. Peter has a miserable life being Spider-Man, but he does the right thing, even at the risk of his life and happiness.

I don’t have any magic cure for this mess we’ve gotten ourselves into. In fact, on some level, while I don’t necessarily recommend it, I think a reasonable person could sometimes decide that driving with the flow of traffic, as it were, is the best thing to do. After all, one of the single most potent images of fairness in our culture is the notion of the level playing field. And if enough people are cheating, and most everybody knows it, then cheating somehow becomes fair because it levels the playing field. But it also perpetuates and tends to escalate the cycle. Ultimately, while there may be short term gains, the long term outlook is bleak.

But because I simply cannot let myself end a sermon on a down note, let me conclude by suggesting some hope by way of an analogy. I think of being ethical and of doing the right thing in the same way that I think of recycling. No one person can make recycling work. But if everybody recycles even as little as one can a day, then suddenly, we have mountains of cans. Only almost nobody ever sees the mountains of cans; we simply have to have faith that they exist and thus resolve to do our part. I think the same thing applies here: we each have to make our small contributions to doing what’s right, being ethical, whatever that might be in any situation, and have faith that it matters in the larger scheme, even though none of us may ever see the mountain of cans.

But more than this, even if there is no mountain of cans, even if nobody else follows, we might just free ourselves a little bit from the belief that winning is the only thing. It isn’t you know and the belief that it is tends to have a corrupting and harmful influence on both individuals and society. But it sometimes takes real courage to find that out. It takes being willing to “lose once in a while for a deeper cause” including the cause of finding and honoring that champion all those coaches tell us lies inside each of us and winning beyond the scoreboard in a way that matters to us all.

Presented July 11, 2004

First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin

Austin, Texas

Version 2: Expanded for Print

Copyright 2004 by Jim Checkley

All Rights Reserved

Daily Practice Makes Perfect

© Jonobie Ford

27 June 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PRAYER

Heaven is not reached in a single bound,

But we build the ladder by which we rise

From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,

And we mount to its summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:

That a noble deed is a step toward God –

Lifting the soul from the common clod

To a purer air and a broader view.

SERMON: Daily Practice Makes Perfect

Jack Kornfield’s book, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry, tells of a young man returning to the West. For the past twelve years, the man has been living a devoted religious life in India and Tibet. He’s in for a bit of culture shock in this re-integration; instead of strict schedules of meditation, intense daily focus on religion, and a community of similar believers, he finds himself lost and adrift in his old, chaotic world. Old patterns of living come back suprisingly quickly. He becomes irritable, confused, and angry. He starts worrying about money. And he begins to wonder whether he’s lost all that he’s learned in these past twelve years. And suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, he realizes:

“I can’t live in some enlightened memory. Spiritual practice is only what I’m doing, right now. Anything else is a fantasy.”

“Anything else is fantasy” — what a strong statement! But I think he’s got it right: Our religion is what we do, each and every day. And one way to focus on what we want to do, to make our daily decisions while keeping in mind these ultimate concerns in life, is to spend time with our religion each day.

I say “daily”, although perhaps “frequent” is a better term. Not all of us can or want to make time for daily practice. But daily practice need not be something that’s eternal. Like many things, some seasons of our lives may call for more focus on religion than others. Daily practice has many benefits, and trying it for a couple of weeks, or months, or even years, can produce some suprising results.

I had a somewhat impromptu daily practice a couple of months ago while writing my affirmations of faith. Each evening for several weeks prior to the service, I sat down at my computer, lit a small candle that I frequently use for rituals, and tried to compose understandable descriptions of what I believed.

The act of dedicating time to religion each evening made me go through the next day thinking about ways I could implement my religious beliefs. It sounds so simple, but I really think that doing a daily practice helps me be a nicer person. I start thinking about how others fit into the breath of life, and how we’re all in this together, and I’m more likely to see people as, well, people, and not just roles.

While I was writing my first affirmation of faith, I was also at a very busy point in my project at work. There was a coworker who had been frustrating me for the past couple of months. One day, after he had just complained to my boss’ boss about a decision I’d made, I was venting about this to my office mate. I actually stopped mid-word in my rant as my brain bubbled “Wow, you’re a hypocrite!” to the surface of my thoughts. Here I was, each evening, writing up lofty ideas about people being part of the breath of life, and how we’re all in this together, and yet, during the day, I hadn’t noticed that this guy was just like me. I’d just been seeing him as this thing that was in my way — not as a person who was just trying to do his job the best he could, just as I was. I might have thought of that without my daily practice, but I’m not so sure. I certainly hadn’t thought of it up until that point — this was not my first rant. And after this mid-rant revelation, I began to interact with him differently, and to actually listen to him, rather than to have my first reaction be annoyance. We ended up being allies, if not exactly friends, by the end of the project.

Daily practice looks different for different people. One couple I know prays a rosary together daily. Another person, a chronic insomniac, meditates each night when she wakes up and can no longer sleep. Yet another person speaks of studying Hebrew and religious scripture each day. My husband and I take turns saying grace at dinner. We all do our practice differently, but the sentiment is the same: Alone, or with others, we spend some time each day reminding ourselves about the ideas we hold most dear.

Regardless of exactly what the practice looks like, it’s clear a lot of people use a daily religious practice, or at least think it’s a good idea. I did a Google search on the phrase “daily spiritual practice” and came up with over 800,000 hits. That’s a lot of talk about daily practice!

Here, in a UU organization, we don’t seem to talk about daily religious practice much. I’m not sure why that is; it may be because we shy away from the notion of doing things that are overtly religious, or it may be because many of us don’t see any value in it. After all, much of the world talks about daily religious practice in terms that don’t work for some of us, by talking of making offerings to Gods, praying, and so forth. It may also just be because we’re busy people and don’t feel we have the time.

But daily religious practice holds a lot of value, even for followers of a liberal religion. There are a whole host of benefits that come from spending part of each day focusing on whatever it is that brings you here, to this church. Is there something you used to do that you don’t anymore, such as journaling, writing, poetry, praying, or taking a morning walk? Maybe it’s time to think about picking it back up again. Summer, with its more relaxed pace, is a great time to return to a daily practice.

While I was preparing for this service, Davidson shared with me an old preacher’s story. In it, two people are talking after church.

One says: “That sermon didn’t have much in it. In fact, most sermons don’t have much in them. I don’t know why I keep coming.”

And the other person replies, “Yes, I’ve found that meals are that way, too. Each one, taken by itself, doesn’t have too much. But if I skipped them all, I don’t think I’d do well. So I’ve decided that the effect of worship services, like the effect of meals, isn’t to seek feasts, but to get in the habit of nourishing myself regularly.”

There’s actually some good, solid evidence that frequent spiritual nourishment is good for us. Although the highly hyped studies describing the value of remote prayer (where other people pray for you) are scientifically suspect, there is evidence that frequent personal practice is healthy. For instance, one study of 1,000 seriously ill men in Veterans Administration hospitals found that “religious coping” — a method that includes frequent personal prayer — decreased depression. In another study, overseen by Duke University researchers, subjects who both attended worship services and prayed had lower blood pressure than a control group. Participants who prayed or studied the Bible daily were 40% less likely to have high blood pressure. Some people might claim that this study somehow proves Christianity’s correctness; given that I found similar studies for meditation and chanting, I’m inclined to say it’s the practice of focusing on religion each day, regardless of exactly what that practice is. Well, almost. An interesting tidbit from that same study: “Those who frequently watched religious TV or [listened] to religious radio actually had higher blood pressures.” I’m not surprised; Jerry Falwell makes my blood pressure rise, too.

At-home religious practice is also helpful for those of us still deciding what religious ideas to make our own. It gives us a safe place to try out and test different ideas. For me, my daily practice has helped refine my theology. For example, I’d always been dubious about praying for other people. After all, I believe that my Gods rarely, if ever, interact with the world in material ways.

When I first began following a daily practice, I found it easiest to use a book of daily devotions.[1] All the devotions in the book include a section for prayers for other people — for example, one directs the reader to pray for people who pollute the earth, while another one suggests praying for those who are refugees or without a home. When I began, I almost skipped doing them. I decided to temporarily leave the prayers in, figuring I shouldn’t remove them on the basis of previous prejudices.

I later realized I didn’t want to remove them. I still didn’t really think praying caused any sort of supernatural action in the lives of the people I was praying for, but prayer had become a way of focusing my attention. In fact, after praying for people, I felt more compassion for those I had prayed for. I wanted to interact with, support, honor, or help them in real ways, not just by thinking about them in the solace of my home. I tried to reduce my pollution by cultivating a worm bin in my apartment, and it now turns most of my previously-discarded kitchen scraps into compost. I also became more involved here at the church, both personally and financially. And I realized that any practice that takes my faith from inside my head into action in the world is a practice that’s powerful and worth retaining, regardless of my discomfort with the word “prayer”.

Daily practice is also just practice at being religious. Just as practicing a piano piece can ingrain the memory of it into your fingers, practicing being religious helps set it into you more firmly. When I first began a daily practice, I was at a really tumultuous time in my life. I was beginning my first job, and I had no idea if I was doing what I wanted to do. I don’t know if it’s this way for everyone, but my first job was when it really hit me — I suddenly knew what “the daily grind” meant. Dilbert, once somewhat incomprehensible, suddenly became hilarious. It sounds hopelessly naive now, but I really think I had the idea that a person went comfortably from out of school into a dream job, and would automatically become a highly respected member of the workforce. Instead, I was hurtling into a whole new world, I was off the tidy little life-plan I had devised for myself, and I was terrified.

Looking back, I can see that if religion is “what I’m doing now”, in the words of the Buddhist Lama, I didn’t have much of a religion at all those days. And even then, I realized that I needed a way to center myself, and to focus on who I was and what was important to me, every day. It felt like I was in danger of losing that, otherwise. My daily practice became part of the “ladder that took me to a broader view”, that reminded me that there was more to life than driving to work, working a long day, and driving back home, exhausted.

In the beginning, daily practice was relatively easy, particularly because it started shortly after I began seriously exploring religion. There was so much new information to read, absorb, and try, that my practice naturally was frequent and enthusiastic. But once my religion and my job become more comfortable, it was harder. While there was still much to learn and absorb, the freshness and enthusiasm began to fade. But I also realized that, in the words of the Lama returning to the west, religion isn’t some memory of past enlightenment — or memory of freshness and enthusiasm, it’s what I’m doing now, each and every day.

I’m told that our hunter-gatherer ancestors would often go without food for days, and then gorge themselves when they had a successful hunt. Like the people in Davidson’s story, it’s easy to slip into thinking about religion in this way, as though we’re waiting for one really good sermon to feed us for a month. But our ancestors realized that it was better to get in the habit of eating small daily meals, just as we still do, and it keeps us nourished all the time. Maybe part of being always nourished is to bring our religion out of the realm of what Kornfield’s Lama calls “fantasy” and down to the earth in our daily lives.

I haven’t tried to feed you a huge feast today, and I’m not sure I’d know how. Nor have I wanted to offer you “fast food”. I wanted to bring you some spiritual appetizers — a little nourishment for your souls on this hot summer day. Maybe it’s a little like Chinese food, and you’ll be hungry again in a few hours. I hope so. Because if we all keep coming back for Sunday snacks, we might grow into the habit of eating spiritual food between meals. And in the long run, you know, that’s a lot like living at a feast.


 [1] Celtic Devotional: Daily Prayers & Blessings, by Caitlin Matthews

Tolerance – Annual Youth Service

© Davidson Loehr

Ian Reed

Will Boney

13 June 2004

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

CENTERING

Ian Reed

In the presence of the power of this congregation,

 In the presence of the warming chalice,

 We gather here to search and to reflect,

 On the beauty and power in this room.

HOMILY: Tolerance

Ian Reed

We gather here today, in this room, in front of this chalice, as a congregation of Religious liberals looking for a greater truth. And right here in front of us is one of the most powerful symbolic lesson to be found on that search, our chalice. While it’s origins as pertaining to our faith are rather spiritually empty, being more or less the winner of a glorified design contest, it still remains that the chalice is one of the most potent religious symbols for any faith. As the oldest recorded symbol for the feminine, the chalice is here to remind us of one of the most important lessons our faith yearns to teach us. That of respecting all of humanity as you respect yourself. One of our strongest principals is to respect the inerrant worth and dignity of every person. Regardless of race, sexual orientation, economic status, or religious affiliation, we have a sacred duty to respect all life, regardless of our disagreements.

The power of this symbol, the power of creation, acceptance, and nurturing, serves as a reminder to us all. This symbol is here to remind us that when we grasp those ideals of tolerance, we have the age old power of the chalice within us.. We must not think of someone’s origins, someone’s family past or religious orientation, we must only think of them as people, for they were all created just like that flame. Gently cradled, and given the spark of life to dance with. This symbol of creation is a reminder to us all that true life comes from this cradling, from this nurturing of the flame. Whether in turn the flame is oil or candle, the person Christian or Jewish, the chalice, the mother gives life to all unconditionally. This is our gift, this is our calling.

My favorite example of that is the biblical story of the good Samaritan. The story goes that there was a man on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho and on his way he unfortunately encountered a band of robbers. These robbers stole all the man’s possessions and beat him to within an inch of his life. So there the poor man lay on the road, while a day’s worth of commuters pass by his way. Much time had passed after the beating when all of a sudden, a kind stranger, identified by Jesus as a friendly Samaritan took it upon himself to help the near dying man. The Samaritan took up the man, bandaged him, bathed him, took him on his back, brought him to the nearest inn, and looked after him for the rest of the day. When the kind Samaritan had to leave the next day, he left two silver pieces with the inn master for the care of the injured man, promising also to repay the innkeeper if the man’s care cost any more. The moral of this story seems to be a simple one of helping your fellow man, but it goes much deeper than that. You see, that Samaritan was not just anybody, for at the time, the Samaritan’s were waging a violent war against the Jews. Thus the lesson herein is much more profound.

Regardless of opinion, regardless of past experience, we must treat all who we encounter with the same tender care. Blood, birth, belief, neither of these truly define a person, or give any justification for harm. The beauty of this story is that it admits this folly, admits the folly of war, the stereotype that all enemies are enemies, that all soldiers are soldiers, even off the battlefield. Respecting the inerrant worth and dignity of every person is just that. We must truly be unconditional with our kindness, for not every Muslim is a terrorist, not every Baptist preaches hellfire and brimstone, not every Catholic is anachronistic, not every Christian wishes to convert us, and not every American is a violent sadist. We must see beyond the labels we create, and respect the person behind them.

The Samaritan was at war with the Jews, and yet he was able to put aside any anger, any prejudice, and simply helped a man in need. The Samaritan did not see the man as a so, as an enemy, as a threat, he just saw a man in need. This is our power as religious liberals. We have the power to see the wonderful myriad of spiritual pathways out there with an unfettered spirit, an unbound mind, and an unobstructed vision. We have no creedal right and wrong, we draw members from all spiritual pathways, from all callings, and we have a gift to see the entire world in that light. We are the Samaritan, we are not bound by thoughts of religious predestiny, of a hell or heaven, we can just see all the world, and all its myriad paths as just that. We can rightly give life to anyone, for that is our strongest calling.

Watching the world like this, without pre-existing fear, hatred, misunderstanding, is our highest good. This is the Samaritan’s true lesson. That when it comes down to every day, to our daily lives, the only thing that matters is seeing past what we are trained to see, and see the man behind the prejudice. We cannot label people by our preconceived notions. Then we become every other passerby we become the ones who let the beaten man lie in the road and die. Our thoughts do have that power. Every time you avoid a Christian because of fear of conversion, you are abandoning them, and denying them crucial companionship. Every time a stranded truck intimidates you a little too much just because of a visible confederate flag, you are denying a man the help he needs. Every time you don’t attend a dinner party with a Hasidic friend for fear of ‘unhealthy’ dinner conversation, you are leaving a good friend based on mere thoughts. We have the power to do many great things with our love, if we can only lean to give it without fear, prejudice, without hesitation. Our greatest gift as a congregation is our love, is our commitment to respecting and understanding the views of all people. If we are willing to accept the lesson of this age old story, and embrace the power of tolerance, of acceptance and understanding, we have the power to be a congregation of good Samaritans, the warmth of the life giving chalice, and when we live up to that potential, let the light of our acceptance shine, we relive that greatness, that warmth, that life saved.

HOMILY: Tolerance

Will Boney

A recent search for tolerance found an organization called Fight Hate and Promote Tolerance. This project has countless resources for someone trying to find out about tolerance. It contains countless examples of tolerance in the news: gay marriage in Massachusetts, the 50th anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education, etc. And our society has taken large steps towards being a tolerant society in recent years. I recall watching Philadelphia a couple of weeks ago with my parents. For those of you who don’t know it is the story of a young lawyer, Andrew Beckett, who is fired when it becomes apparent that he has become infected with HIV and is therefore, according to the stereotypes of the time, gay. The amazing thing about the movie was the huge amount of change that has occurred with the way normal people in society view HIV and homosexuals. Instead of, as in the movie, it being difficult to find a lawyer willing to represent Beckett due to his homosexuality, the opposite would now be true. My parents and I were amazed when we realized that this movie was made in 1993, a scant 11 years ago. This increase in tolerance has shown up in a myriad of areas, too numerous mention here, from the societal classics of race, religion, etc… to the more mundane aspect of tolerating people who are different from us in our individual, everyday lives. This increase in tolerance has definitely been a good thing. Tolerance is important on two levels: first, the tolerated gain by being tolerated. By being tolerated, they can be accepted into a community and society. As social beings, this acceptance is key to many people’s happiness and self-actualization. The second benefit of tolerance is to the tolerating society on a whole. The tolerance increases the diversity of the society, which countless studies and authorities claim increases some overall quality.

But does this tolerance truly extend to everyone? The previously mentioned organization to Fight Hate and Promote Tolerance reported on many other news stories, including one regarding an ad campaign that was attacking a proposed reality show called “Amish in the City.” The news story sided with the ad campaign, but, to me, this seems the opposite of their declared position for tolerance. The attacking of the proposed show is very intolerant, and yet an organization to promote tolerance supports it. The explanation is easily understandable the show is accused of mocking the Amish, an intolerant act but this position exposes a contradiction, or at least an ambiguity in any doctrine of tolerance. There are likely to be people who do not accept tolerance in all things. How does a tolerant person deal with this? One cannot attempt to force tolerance on them because this goes against the very core idea of tolerance. There seems to be no action or inaction that can be taken by a tolerant person to end this intolerance. They must simply tolerate it. But a tolerant person cannot easily in good conscience ignore them because the intolerance is so offensive. That is one of the great challenges of tolerance: how to tolerate the intolerant.

Another huge challenge of the tolerant is to tolerate everyone. This, I believe, is the biggest obstacle to complete tolerance. Everyone has their morals and ethics; these are the rules people live by that give them guidelines for what they can do and what they can’t do. Tolerance is easy when it is an act that ones morals agree with, still easy when one finds it not too offensive. But how many of us can tolerate the things that we find the most offensive in the world? How many of us are tolerant towards murderers? Rapists? Child molesters? The list goes on. For that is the true test of tolerance: think of the most disgusting, offensive act you can and see if you can tolerate a person that commits that act with no remorse.

And is tolerance really enough? Because tolerance only means that, well, you tolerate it, that you allow it to happen around you and in your community without taking action against it. Tolerance in no way means that you like it, that you encourage it, or that you support those who you tolerate. Instead, you need only ‘grin and bear it’ for tolerance. But is this really what we want in society? A bunch of people who go around merely tolerating each other? Does that really constitute a community, or merely an assortment of people? Acceptance seems more desirable, but much more difficult to achieve. Acceptance would give us a real society, but less diversity. Although the amounts of both can increase some over time, there does seem to be a definite tradeoff between the amount of community and the amount of diversity. Which one is more important is a choice that people will have to make for themselves, but it seems as though we cannot have both.