Revolutionary Love

Rev. Chris Jimmerson
Phil Richardson, Nicole Meitzen, Julie Gillis
June 12, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

Rev. Chris Jimmerson and leaders from the Austin Area UU White Allies for Racial Equity will examine how, in the words of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”


Call to Worship
by Steve Ripper

Che Guevara once said, “At the risk of sounding ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love.”

It begins and ends with love. If there is one lesson, one key to being all you can be – and I don’t mean being a soldier, I mean being a warrior – it’s learning to love. But just what does that word, love, mean? It has become so fraught and loaded with double meanings and empty promises that many are justifiably cynical at the mere mention of love. I’m not talking sentimental love, I’m not talking hallmark love, I’m not talking ‘luv.’ I’m talking about a fierce love, a revolutionary love, a true love, a love beyond illusion, a love that is not afraid to freak you out with the truth, even when it hurts like hell. This Big Love is agape love, it’s a universal love, and it is, I believe infused in all of creation.

Meditation Reading
by Steve Ripper

When I asked Archibishop Desmond Tutu one of my favourite questions, “what is the meaning of life”, he replied, “The God in whose image we are created, is a God of love. We are the result of a divine loving. Ultimately we’re meant for love… we’re meant as those who will communicate love and make this world more hospitable to love.”

You don’t need to believe in God to feel the power of this truth – somewhere deep inside us all, is a bonfire of love, that we are here to embody, to unleash, to liberate from captivity.

Take a moment and send your awareness down to your heart, and see if you can feel a little taste of this vast love which is hidden there, like a shining diamond – your diamond heart. Can you feel it burning within?

Homily 1
by Phil Richardson

We were challenged by Dr. King to find a Revolutionary Love that could defeat the hate of racism. The inter-racial love that Michael and I share is an example of such a love.

I don’t know why I fell in love with Michael 36 years ago. I knew that I was attracted to men of color but the deck was stacked against us. … According to 1970’s social norms and our respective parents … Our age difference was too great ( ageism), we were both men (homophobia) and especially we were of mixed races (racism.) … My mother pleaded: Couldn’t you please pick someone less ‘obviously controversial?’ Thankfully we stayed together overcoming pressure from culture, family and friends … our Love prevailed.

In our 36 years together we’ve lived together, raised children together, shared intimate hopes and dreams together, practiced medicine together, vacationed together and grieved together as we lost friends to AIDS. Michael is my ally, friend, companion and now legal husband after four very public wedding-like commitment ceremonies.

Is Michael Really Black?
The short answer is yes. His skin color is a rich tan. That said, I see Michael more as a friend, lover, husband and confidant who happens to have darker skin. Our Revolutionary Love transformed black Michael into Michael who happens to be black. … Close proximity, frequent interaction, mutual trust and respect, (elements of our Revolutionary Love), caused me to see Michael’s character rather than his skin color … that was Dr. King’s dream. This Revolutionary Love transformed us both to see each other as our true selves, rather than what we looked like.

A telling anecdote occurred several years after Michael and I got together. We were at a large social gathering when Michael whispered to me “We’re the only black people at this party.” It took a minute for Michael’s Freudian slip to sink in … We had become to each other, members of the same human race.

The take away in this example is that our initial recognition of our racial difference caused our relationship to begin. As love drew us closer, we each became less aware of our skin colors, seeing more each other’s true essence. This pathway of first acknowledging, then accepting racial and cultural difference followed by long lasting mutual admiration, compassion, and trust defeated the very meaning of racism.

Road Blocks
Two major roadblocks to defeating racism are White Privilege and an unequal Race Based Justice system. Understanding these roadblocks has been the focus of our White Allies studies.

We’ve discovered that most white people, myself included, are totally unaware how we exercise White Privilege … unless it’s pointed out. In our Allies group we regularly share White Privilege scenarios we’ve observed in ourselves and others.

Race based inequality under the law has been publicized by the Black Lives Matter movement. … “Stop and Frisk,” “The War on Drugs” and supposedly “non-existent” racial profiling all claim to be race neutral but with implementation are racist.

Loving Away Racism

– I believe that the pathway to a tranquil diverse society must first start with a full awareness and acceptance of race and cultural differences. With purposeful proximity, genuine friendship, admiration, and trust we can defeat racism.

– We need to learn to recognize and condemn White Privilege wherever we find it.

– We need to be prepared to change ourselves whenever we discover our own exercise of White Privilege.

– We must insist upon truly equal enforcement and justice under the Law.

– We all need to accept, respect and follow leaders who happen to be POC. As Victor Hugo wrote … “To Love another person is to see the face of God.”

Homily 2
by Nicole Meitzen

Through my experiences in the racial justice movement in Central Texas, I have seen that revolutionary love is a verb, the act of choosing everyday to meet the world, each other, and our activism with an open heart and a consciousness of whether the impact of our actions is upholding white supremacist systems or dismantling them. Activist, scholar and author Angela Davis said “walls turned sideways are bridges.” The conscious choices inherent in revolutionary love are what turn the walls between us into bridges so we can embrace our shared humanity.

Revolutionary love is the choice to show up for racial justice everyday even when it feels scary, hard, and overwhelming. It is a love that grows through our presence and connection… putting our bodies on the line for our black brothers and sisters and declaring with them that Black Lives Matter. Racial justice activist Reverend Hannah Adair Bonner wrote “what’s a solidarity that doesn’t break? When you’re tired, when you’re scared, when you’re heart hurts: you’re still there.”

Revolutionary love is recognizing that David Joseph, Gyasi Hughes, and Sandra Bland are not “their” children but our children. It is choosing to stand with the families of these young people and demanding justice… demanding a society where young black people will be safe, respected, and loved not just at home but when they are in the midst of one of their most vulnerable moments, when they are walking the halls of their school, and when they are driving down the road. A society where black people will see their inherent worth, dignity, beauty, and power reflected back at them by the people and institutions they encounter in daily life.

Revolutionary love is the choice of white folks to explore white supremacy, its impacts, and our part in perpetuating it whether we claim to be anti-racist or not. It is taking the time and effort to read articles, blogs, books, and to engage in tough conversations without expecting peoples of color to take on the burden of educating us. It is challenging racist comments, actions, and systems and pushing through the discomfort of doing so. It is realizing our impact matters more than or “good” intentions and apologizing, making amends, and doing better next time when we are confronted for racist remarks and/or behavior. It is also remembering to offer ourselves and others a bit of grace because unlearning a lifetime of socialization in a white supremacist culture is a daily challenge. We will make mistakes along the way and these are the points where we learn and grow and develop the ability to engage with each other and the world in a way that supports racial justice rather than oppression.

Revolutionary love is the choice to raise a race conscious, rather than colorblind, family. It is white families realizing that while discussing race and racism is challenging, black families have no choice but to talk with their children in order to prepare them to safely navigate a world designed to treat them as less because of the color of their skin. It is white families teaching their kids that racism is systemic and that people have different life experiences and face striking inequities because our society is shaped by the violence inherent in white supremacy and racism. It is demonstrating with our actions and words that black lives matter and reminding our children that their actions and words can either support their black friends or endanger them physically, emotionally, and/or mentally. It is teaching our children that racism and slavery are not gone and that there is a vast history excluded from textbooks… especially in Texas. It is taking the time to teach our children this history to put the injustices they and their peers will encounter in true context. It is living our lives and engaging with our families in a way that our youth know their voices matter and that they are capable of challenging racist systems and creating a more just and loving world… and that they deserve nothing less.

Racism dehumanizes us all and the choice to love is what will reconnect and heal us.

As social activist bell hooks said, “When we choose to love, we choose to move against fear, against alienation and separation. The choice to love is a choice to connect, to find ourselves in the other.”

Homily 3
by Julie Gillis

Looking back over my life, my activism has always had to do with the body. I’ve been a staunch supporter of reproductive justice, of LGBT intersecting rights, of worker’s rights, and of ability rights, anti-racism work. It is often frustrating work, and it can feel hopeless at times, especially in a state like Texas. Love, and its revolutionary power are vital to that work and for those who do that work.

I believe it’s revolutionary to love the body. The body gets complicated in our culture. From Original Sin to Pauline Theology to Dualism (and even other religious paths aiming to free to soul from its earthly form, the physical body gets a bad rap). I can admit to feeling fear when I share some of the storytelling work I do (it’s about the body and sexuality and pleasure) because our culture is so shaming, about what bodies should and shouldn’t do. But I do it anyway. I often feel fear when I confront my own racism, because I know it is a poison in my body, and in our larger cultural body. I wonder how to heal any of it while suffering from it and being, even inadvertently, a cause of it.

We may not always think of it that way, but racism is completely tied up in the body – people, centuries ago, decided that black and brown bodies should serve white bodies. The body itself was supposed to be a mirror of god, or we created god as a mirror of the dominant body at the time. In our culture it was a Christian, white, able bodied, straight, cis gendered men.

Thus we had bodies that were superior and other bodies to serve them. We had bodies with uteruses serving bodies without. Poor bodies made to work for rich bodies. Bodies to be sold. Or impregnated and given away. Or locked up in facilities for not being perfect. Laws were passed delineating who gets to pee where, who gets to decide when or if to stay pregnant. Who gets to ride a bus, who gets to drink out of a water fountain.

And if those disuniting decisions were being made by individuals, what happened next was that those isms solidified into institutions like the church body, which then reinforced personal beliefs in a toxic mobius strip effect. It’s also revolutionary love to confront the body politic.

I do this work because of the body. I have one. You have one. We all have one and they are precious. If our body as a church isn’t in alignment with the bodies of its people, we are going to have a hard time sustaining our mission statement of gathering together in community to nourish souls, transform lives, and do justice.

To stay in communion and complete that mission requires the revolutionary love that only our bodies can bring. Can you imagine what it would be to live in a world that LOVED each body? That loved the body of earth? Really LOVED it, like a parent loves a child or a lover loves the beloved? We wouldn’t hurt each other. We wouldn’t destroy our water, our air. We wouldn’t sell each other, or use each other like products based on gender, or melanin, or age.

We’d take delight in our differences. Take joy in shades of skin, textures of hair, wrinkles, sizes of bodies. Celebrate romantic unions of various genders happily and with grace. Honor choices. Share food and resources and lift each other up. We’d look back and be ashamed and heartbroken over what’s such disunity. We must wake up to that revolutionary love and real communion.

Our larger human body is only as healthy as our individual ones. The more we can heal and support the individual, the more impact on the institution, leading back to cultural bodies that truly support individual ones. That’s what nurtures me, this vision of love reversing that mobius strip into a healing cycle that support human beings and back again. It starts with love and with us.

Homily 4
by Rev. Chris Jimmerson

Text of the homily will be posted as it becomes available.


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

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

Finding the divinity in the Mundane

The Youth of First UU Church of Austin
May 15, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

“Youth Sunday: Finding the Divinity in the Mundane” with the Senior High Youth Group. Our annual youth-led Sunday service. The wisdom of adolescence will share their particular insight into the topic of discovering the divine within the routine of our daily lives.


Call to Worship: “Finding the Divine in the Mundane” by Rae Milstead

Reading: “What is there beyond knowing” by Mary Oliver
read by Bridget Lewis

Homily: Kira Azulay

Homily: Alica Stadler

Homily: Alex Runnels

Homily: Theo Moers

Benediction: Abby Poirier


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

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

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

 

The fire of commitment

Susan Yarbrough
March 13, 2016
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

This Sunday, let’s think together about how we can avoid personal and congregational burnout, stir the embers, encourage each other to spiritual growth, and warm ourselves to the continued work of repairing the world.


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

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

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

 

Community

Rev. Chris Jimmerson and Rev. Nell Newton
December 27, 2015
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

“Community: To connect with joy, sorrow, and service with those whose lives we touch.” In this second in our sermons series on our church’s religious values, former First UU member Rev. Nell Newton joins Rev. Chris in exploring the foundations for building religious community.


Call to Worship

Now let us worship together.
Now let us celebrate our highest values.

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

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

Compassion
To treat ourselves and others with love

Courage
To live lives of honesty, vulnerability, and beauty

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

Now we raise up that which we hold as ultimate and larger than ourselves.
Now we worship, together.

Sermon

Rev. Nell Newton

“We Gather In Community”

When people chose those words – and it was a collaborative effort – this congregation was at a terribly beautiful moment. It was terrible because many people were still mad and hurt and angry and sitting far out on the edges. And beautiful because other people were crowding in close to see what they could do to be of help, how they could make things better. But let’s back up to what was going on before these words were chosen. Let’s start with a story….

Once upon a time there was a congregation that went looking for a minister. But not just any minister – no, they wanted a wonderful minister. They wanted a minister who would be bold and preach the paint off the walls. They wanted someone who would stick around and not just use them as a lower rung on his or her career ladder. They wanted someone who would challenge them! And that is exactly the kind of minister they got. It was wonderful and terrible. It was wonderful because the minster could preach the paint off the walls, but then terrible because it was hard to keep the walls painted. It was wonderful because the minister settled in and showed no inclination to leave them to better his or her own self-interests. But it was terrible because the minister didn’t show any inclination to leave for the congregation’s best interests either. It was wonderful because the minister challenged them. And it was terrible because, well, sometimes people need to be comforted too.

Ministers! But there was something else that was happening that the congregation had not experienced in a while. The minister drew people in – lots of people. Standing room only crowds of people who came to hear the minister. It was very exciting! But after the services, many of those people just got back in their cars and left. They were happy enough to hear the great sermons and watch the paint peel off the walls. They didn’t stay around afterwards to help repaint the walls or read stories to the kids or wash dishes after potlucks.

Now, in all fairness, those people were probably feeling pretty good about everything. They probably were feeling happy that they’d finally found a minister to listen to, so they could say that they had found a church. But what they hadn’t yet figured out is that sermons are not church.

Really. Church – if you do it right – is a verb, not a noun. And the folks who were just showing up for the sermons were missing the really hard, challenging, transformative part of church.

So, when things finally went “kaboom”, which happens if church is a verb, all of a sudden, the minister was gone! And the people who were there to watch the minister’s show, well, a lot of them just left. And that’s probably okay. It was a little sad to see the empty spaces where they had been sitting.

But, some of them didn’t leave. As the dust swirled and settled, they blinked, and as if waking from a magic spell, an illusion, and they began to notice that even though there was no minister, CHURCH continued.

And some of them began to recognize that the underlying, the foundational ministry in the church was the congregation. Those people they’d been sitting next to? They were all ministers. And good ones too.

It was during this time that the congregation – everyone who was still showing up – got to really see church as a verb – a process of creating and becoming together. It was pretty cool.

And when they set out to identify their mission, the reason for doing this church stuff, they all agreed that the most important part of what they were doing was simply coming together, gathering in community. Because while individuals are amazing and powerful, there are some things that you can only build where two or more are gathered.

I used to think of church as a wonderful banquet with welcoming tables, deeply satisfying food, and genial company. In this analogy the minister helps people find their place and points out good things to eat while the congregants take turns serving, eating and washing the dishes. The covenant serves as the house rules and there is a place for everyone at the table.

That’s a pleasant image, but it doesn’t include all of what really happens at church. It doesn’t include that radical bit about change.

These days I think of church more as a laboratory – a place where people can come and learn new ways of seeing and being. We’re building a new way and as we work sometimes there is a flash of light and a puff of smoke!

In this vision of church I see us conducting experiments with such titles as “Being Well Together” and “Walking and Talking”. Higher level experiments are also being conducted in “Not Walking and Not Talking”, and “Letting Go”. Church then becomes the place where we work at becoming a people so bold — a place where we change ourselves in order to change the world!

This version of church is explicitly a challenge to the people who identify as “SBNR” –“spiritual but not religious”. That’s how a lot of folks will explain why they don’t do church. They are just fine with their spirituality, no need to complicate things with institutions, or really, other people. Not even other SBNR people. Because, well, people. They can be so people-y. They can be so challenging.

And, there’s the problem with trying to do spiritual but not religious: if you’re off doing it all alone, there’s no one around to call you on your nonsense or useless abstractions, or self-indulgences that don’t ask you to look closer, work a little harder and become the best version of yourself. And there’s no one around to point out other versions of the holy, or new ways of giving thanks. Sometimes you need a near perfect stranger to point out the gaps in your theology.

So, come into this community of love and learning and falling down and getting up and starting over. It’s how we are doing our theology. Gathered in community.

 

Rev. Chris Jimmerson

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

That’s our topic for today’s second in a series of sermons on this church’s religious values. Values that are at the core of this religious community and out of which our mission that we say together every Sunday arose.

I’d like to start by talking about what we mean by community – how we create and sustain religious community within the church, because I think sometimes when we talk about community we kind of have this Hallmark view of community where we’re all going to love each other all the time, and we’re only going to have joy and hugs and fun together, sipping coffee, munching on delicious bonbons and singing Kumbaya together.

And, no, we are not singing that today. Or ever; at least when I am leading worship.

Anyway, I think all of that is part of it. One of the things that I love about serving this church is that we do have fun – that we do demonstrate physical affection with one another – that we share a great sense of humor and joy.

Like, with a lasting marriage though, I think there’s more to it than that. I think that we also have to be aware that there will be struggles – that we will disagree – that we will have conflict from time to time, and in fact I would be wary of a religious community that never had conflict because it could signal that perhaps what we had actually created is a club of like minds, not a true religious community.

We have to be committed to and willing to do the work of maintaining relationship – of sustaining an ever-evolving, ever-changing religious community.

In fact there is a theology that says that God or the divine emerges out of the messiness of creating community. Now leaving aside for a moment that this theology envisions a supernatural version of the divine, which I don’t, I will say that I was fortunate enough to see exactly the process this theology tries to capture occur here in this very church after, what Meg refers to as the time of trouble had occurred. At a specially called congregational meeting, the congregation had voted by a fairly narrow margin to dismiss the person who was then senior minister.

It was messy. We had disagreements. We had hurt feelings. And yet leadership emerged that was wise enough to bring in outside help and to provide opportunities for members of the community to begin to speak with each other, both on and intellectual and an emotional level.

This community began the long process of forming a covenant of healthy relations that describes how we will be with each other – what promises we make to each other within the religious community. This community began to discern our values and to create our mission that gives us common purpose.

Out of the messiness and disagreement and hurt feelings, because some folks this religious community stayed in the struggle with each other and did the work of building and rebuilding relationship, this became a church even stronger than it had been before – a church that is providing a religious and spiritual home for more and more people -a church that is making real differences in our larger community and in our world – a church that I am so proud to serve.

Now, that’s an example from an extraordinarily challenging and thankfully rare situation. However, I think this willingness to stay in the struggle with each other – this willingness to embrace that true community will sometimes involve messiness – is necessary even during times such as the one that this church is undergoing right now, when things are going well, when there is joy and goodwill within our membership.

Because smaller but potentially destructive disagreements and conflicts will still happen that if left unattended and unspoken can fester and grow into larger problems. Because we are all human, and we will sometimes unintentionally fail one another.

And so, even during times such as this, religious community demands of us that we abide by our covenant with one another – that we ask for help when we need it -that we speak with one another directly and from the heart even over our smaller hurts and disagreements. Here at first UU church of Austin, we are fortunate enough to have a healthy relations ministry team that can help when doing so seems difficult.

It can be difficult. It can feel very vulnerable.

And perhaps that’s the key point. Without vulnerability, there can be no real religious community.

Only through being vulnerable with each other, can we create that true sense of religious community – can the divine emerge from among us.

Earlier, I talked a little about Community within our church walls. Now I’d like to talk about living this value Beyond them.

As many of you know this past summer, our church provided sanctuary to Sulma Franco, who had sought asylum in the U.S. because she feared persecution for having spoken out and organized on behalf of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender rights in her home country of Guatamala. Due largely to her immigration lawyer making a mistake and the systemic injustice of our immigration system, she had been held 9 months in a detention center and was facing an imminent order of removal or deportation.

Working with a coalition of local immigration and human rights groups, other churches and faith leaders, we engaged in a campaign to pressure Immigration and Customs Enforcement (or ICE) to do grant Sulma a stay of removal so that she could remain in the U.S. while her immigration legal case could proceed. In August, the ICE office in San Antonio told Sulma’s new lawyer that they would grant the stay, but that Sulma would have to accompany her lawyer inside the ICE offices to sign the required paperwork. Not surprisingly, Sulma was afraid that if she went in the ICE offices, they might put her back into detention and deport her instead.

After much planning with our allies, and after our Senior Minister, Meg, received assurances from the officer in Charge of the ICE Office that Sulma would not be detained, we made plans for a whole entourage of folks to go to the San Antonio, where were joined by more folks from San Antonio outside the ICE building and several members of the press, whom we had invited.

We hit a snag when the ICE officer told us over the phone that by ICE policy he could not come outside and state in front of the press, that they would not detain her, so Sulma had to decide if she would still go in, with only the private assurances he had made to Meg. She decided that if Meg and I would lock arms with her, one of us on each side of her like this, and go in with her and her lawyer, then she would do it.

The ICE officer met us as we entered the building. Sulma was trembling. I could actually feel her shaking with fear. I only hope that if I ever had to, I could summon the courage it took her to walk in that building.

She was too terrified to let go of either Meg or me for any reason. To go any further, there was one of those metal detectors and X-ray belts you have to put your cell phones and bags and such on. The ICE officer took mercy on us as we fumbled around trying to figure out how to get things out of pockets and onto the conveyor belt while still locked arm and arm. He told us we could just go around but the space between the screening area and the wall though was very narrow so to get through still connected with Sulma, we had to kind of do this sideways shuffle.

I looked around, and there were these long lines of folks, almost all of whom where people of color, waiting and waiting to see someone about their immigration status. I thought, they must wonder who this woman is being escorted right past the lines and into a private office area, locked arm in arm with two white people one of them wearing some strange, bright yellow scarf. I thought, many of them must be terrified too.

After what felt like hours, ICE provided Sulma with the paperwork legally stating they would not deport her, and we left the office, Sulma holding her documents of freedom high in the air as her supporters cheered and celebrated her.

I think that on that day what Martin Luther King called “Beloved Community” had arisen. Now, I think that’s a term that gets overused, but as King used it, it involves a community of radical love, justice, compassion and interdependence. And to make the beloved community, we needed others. Our individual efforts to do justice are wonderful and needed AND our mission says that we gather in community to do justice. We have so much more power to do justice when we act together. We have so much more power to create the beloved community when we act with our interfaith partners and our larger denomination and a broad coalition of folks, some of them religious and some not, like we did that day in San Antonio.

Because we do these things not just to save one person, though that is vital and important, but to shine a light on our broken and inherently racist and LGBT oppressive immigration system, so that one day, if can build larger and larger coalitions, we might bring the change that will free all of those other terrified folks we passed by in that ICE office that day.

Building the beloved community requires, in the words of our great UU theologian James Luther Adams, the organization of power and power of organization. That’s why we gather in community to do justice.

That’s how we create the conditions for the divine to emerge in this world – in this time – here and now.

Benediction

As you go back out into the world now, know that there is a love that you carry with you beyond these church walls.

Know that our interconnectedness contains seeds of hope for justice and compassion to be made manifest.

Know that together, with one another and the many others who would join us to create a world wherein each is truly beloved, together, almost unlimited possibilities are still ours to create.

Go in peace. Go in love. Go knowing that this religious community awaits you and holds you until we are together again.


 

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

Christmas Pageant

Rev. Meg Barnhouse, Rev. Marisol Caballero, Gillian Redfearn, Vicki Almstrum
December 13, 2015
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org

We present our annual Christmas pageant in an intergenerational, all-ages service. Our children perform in costumes of their choosing.


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Saying Grace, Being Gratitude

Susan Yarbrough
November 29, 2015

Beyond focusing on gratitude once a year, how can we do more than simply be periodically grateful? How can we practice gratitude so consistently that we not only live into it, but actually become it?


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Give me your tired, your poor, your harmed

Susan Yarbrough
August 9, 2015

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


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Spiritual Ambivalence

Rev. Nell Newton
August 2, 2015

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


Sermon: Spiritual Ambivalence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

©2015 Nell Newton


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

 

On the dancefloor

Carolina Trevino
June 28, 2015

Looking at mystical poetry, we’ll explore how to keep our spirits alive in the modern world. Carolina Trevino is a Christian educator for children and youth at Central Presbyterian Church. She received her Master of Divinity from Union Theological Seminary in New York City (Rev. Mari’s neighbor and classmate in NYC). She grew up in Austin and enjoys walking around Lady Bird Lake, perfecting her chili recipe, practicing Spanish, and will eventually fulfill her lifelong desire to learn the fiddle. Carolina is excited to be preaching at First UU for the first time!


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Concepts of the Divine

Rev. Chris Jimmerson
April 25, 2015

Rev. Chris Jimmerson joined by our First UU seminary students deliver homilies on the language of reverence in the first our “We Gather” alternative services. Chris asked each of our three seminarians to offer a short homily on this question: “What does the concept of the divine mean to you?”


Chris Jimmerson’s Homily

Several years ago, Unitarian Universalists began to have a discussion around what we called “a language of reverence”, a religious language that acknowledges our sense of awe and wonder over this spectacular world and universe in which find ourselves. And despite our differing beliefs, and though there is still some debate about the use of such language in our religious communities, this language of reverence has over time seeped into our vernacular.

If you’ve been hanging out with Unitarian Universalists for any time though, have you noticed what we do when we use such language? We go like this:
“God – whatever that means to you. Including nothing at all.”
“Holy – but if you really don’t like that term it’s OK, and we all understand why you might not and would prefer to think of it as, maybe, a sense of wholeness. Perhaps”

Now, the equivocations are understandable. Some of us come out of religious backgrounds that wounded us and within which such terms were wielded like weapons. Others may associate such terms with superstition and a belief in the supernatural they do not hold.

I got to wondering though, what if we could truly reclaim the language of reverence for ourselves? What if we could stop equivocating and just accept that each of us, humanist or theist, Buddhist or earth-centered naturalist – or any other of our many worldviews -just allow each of us to embrace such terms in ways that have meaning and power within our own ways of making sense of our world and our lives.

So, as an experiment, I asked each of our three seminarians to offer a short homily today on this question: “What does the concept of the divine mean to you?”

And yes, “absolutely nothing” was an allowable answer as long as they could follow it with something like, “This is what I think is ultimate – something I am a part of but that is larger than myself.”

Then, I realized that if I was going to ask them to answer such a question, I was going to have to do so also.

“Well, hells bells,” as my grandmother used to say when encountered with something perplexing or difficult.

I realized I can’t define or describe the divine. Rather, it’s an experience I have in this world and in this reality.

It is an experience I have sometimes had while hiking in nature and suddenly having a sense of my smallness in the vastness of things and yet also transcendence because of being a part of that life and creation.

It is an experience I have had when walking down the streets of a bustling city amidst throngs of humanity and suddenly feeling this overwhelming sense of oneness and connection with all of humanity.

And, hells bells, that brings me back to an experience that happened with grandma.

I go back to this story a lot because it is still the strongest of this type of experience that I have ever had.

I was very close with my maternal grandparents. They took care of me and helped raise me after my parents divorced when I was still very young. Later, they welcomed my spouse Wayne into our family with open, loving arms. They wanted him to be at all of our family gatherings and life events, including when the time came that we lost first my grandfather and then my grandmother.

Of course, they knew that we were in a loving, committed, romantic relationship. Grandma used to call us, “Her boys”. Still, we never explicitly discussed the true nature of relationship with them. Grandpa was a Deacon in the First Baptist Church of Groves, TX, after all, a small town in southeast Texas. We learned later that we could have.

Wayne and I were visiting my grandmother in the hospital for what we all knew could be one of the last times. She had congestive heart failure and told her doctors that she only wanted to be kept out of pain – no more treatments; no more resuscitations. We’d had a good long visit, and we went to her bedside to say our goodbyes, she took us both by the hand, looked me right in the eyes and said, “Take care of each other”.

That room filled with love. The love held us. It was like a loving presence was supporting us and comforting us within our connections with each other and all that was and ever will be.

For me, when we get a glimpse of the true depth and expansiveness, the wondrous beauty, of our shared existence, the love that’s possible within the complex, fragile, ever changing web of all existence of which we are part, as we did in that hospital room, the only words I have with enough symbolic power to point toward such experiences are words like “Divine”.

Still, as the Buddhists might say, even then, they are like a finger pointing at the moon, but they are not the moon.

And I’m OK with that. For me, leaving some mystery is a part of it, and so the language of reverence is what best helps me recapture at least something of that sense of awe and wonder – that power to be found within love and human connectedness, this spectacular world and universe within which we find ourselves.

Amen.

Nell Newton – Homily on understanding the divine

Here was the class exercise: turn to a partner and tell that person about your understanding of God. We’re in seminary, so this kind of thing is expected. I turned to my new friend Lyn and we looked at each other. “You go first” “No, you…” Politeness trying to buy time. Why is it that we balk at talking about something so essential?

Lyn jumped in “For me, God is Love. That’s all.” I nodded.

“For me, God is the way that the stars and grass and I are all becoming all at once. The air we are breathing together is God and the way that I’m coming to see how very little separation there is between us, and that all of us are co-creating the universe together. My holy scripture is DNA and I have no real words for what God is but I know it when I stop maintaining this sense of separate self and just breathe…” I paused, terrified that I would now be escorted out of the building for having spoken some heresy. It’s a liberal seminary, but still… I wasn’t quite sure that my sense of the divine was appropriate or safe.

We blinked at each other. Lyn finally said, “Wow… I wish I could talk about my god like that. Now my god feels a little simple.” I grunted “Well, I wish I could have as clear and succinct an understanding as your god. Then we laughed and hugged and agreed that our gods were good enough for who we are. And that is good. And both of our gods were present at that moment. And this moment. And this moment.

There are technical terms for the differences between our understandings of the divine: Kataphatic and Apophatic.

Lyn’s understanding is Kataphatic:
– is a positive way of describing what god is.
– Kataphatic theology and prayer can be summed up by the way it states how god is like something: “God is Love”, “God is relationship”, or “God is good.”
– God can be understood, known, described. That’s positive.

My babbling felt dangerous and useless because my understanding of the divine is Apophatic – which isn’t really negative, but it doesn’t fit into words.
– Apophatic prayer has no content.
– God cannot be known through any analogy or imagery.
– There is no noun or verb or adjective that works.
– So one simply rests with the unknowability, the uncertainty.
– In the Hebrew “Elohim”, a word for the holy, it is plural, but it’s not a noun for a thing- it’s a verb about process. It roughly translates to “We are becoming” or “that which is becoming”. That’s pretty close to my understanding of the divine.

A couple of weeks ago I told Lyn that I had found the correct terms for our theologies. We laughed at how we had both felt so self-conscious talking about our understanding of the holy.

How we each felt that we were inadequate or insufficient to the task. But we weren’t. And how we had found something truly holy in sharing.


Meditation – Drops of God
Tess Baumberger

God, God is water sleeping
in high-piled clouds.
She is gentle drink of rain,
pooling lake, rounding pond,
angry flooding river.
She is frothy horse-maned geyser.
She is glacier on mountains and polar ice cap,
and breath-taking crystalline ideas of snowflakes.
She is frost-dance on trees.
And we, we are drops of God,
her tears of joy or sorrow,
ice crystals
and raindrops
in the ocean of her.

God, God is air wallowing
all about us,
She is thin blue atmosphere embracing
our planet, gentle breeze.
She is wind and fearsome gale
centrifugal force of tornado and hurricane,
flurry of dust storm.
She is breath, spirit, life.
She is thought, intellect, vision and voice.
And we, we are breaths of God,
steady and soft,
changeable and destructive.
We are her laughter and her sighs,
atomic movements,
(sardines schooling)
in the firmament of her.

God, God is fire burning,
day and night.
She is sting of passion,
blinking candle,
heat that cooks our food.
She is fury forest fire
and flow of lava which destroys and creates, transforms.
She is home fire and house fire.
She is giving light of sun and
solemn mirror-face of moon,
and tiny hopes of stars.
And we, we are little licking flames
flickering in her heart,
in the conflagratory furnace of her.

God, God is power of earth,
in and under us.
She is steady, staying,
fertile loam, body, matter, tree.
She is crumbling limestone and shifting sand,
multi-colored marble.
She is rugged boulder and water-smoothed agate,
she is gold and diamond, gemstone.
She is tectonic plates and their motion,
mountains rising over us,
rumble-snap of earthquake,
tantrum of volcano.
She is turning of our day,
root of being.
And we, we are pebbles
and sand grains,
and tiny landmarks,
in the endless terrain of her.
God, God is journal of time marching
through eternity.
She is waking of seasons, phases of moon,
movements of stars.
She is grandmother, mother, daughter.
She is transcending spiral of ages
whose every turn encompasses the rest,
history a mere babe balanced on her hip.
She is spinning of universes
and ancestress of infinence.
She is memory, she is presence, she is dream.
And we, we are brief instants,
intersections, nanoseconds,
flashing gold-hoped moments in the eons of her.
God, God is.
And we, we are.


That Which Holds All
Nancy Shaffer

Because she wanted everyone to feel included
in her prayer,
she said right at the beginning
several names for the Holy:
Spirit , she said, Holy One, Mystery, God.

But then thinking these weren’t enough ways of addressing
that which cannot fully be addressed, she added
particularities, saying,
Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love,
Ancient Holy One, Mystery We Will Not Ever Fully Know,
Gracious God, and also Spirit of this Earth,
God of Sarah, Gaia, Thou.

And then, tongue loosened, she fell to naming
superlatives as well: Most Creative One,
Greatest Source, Closest Hope –
even though superlatives for the Sacred seemed to her
probably redundant, but then she couldn’t stop:

One who Made the Stars, she said, although she knew
technically a number of those present didn’t believe
the stars had been made by anyone or thing
but just luckily happened.

One Who Is an Entire Ocean of Compassion,
she said, and no one laughed.
That Which Has Been Present Since Before the Beginning,
she said, and the room was silent.

Then, although she hadn’t imagined it this way,
others began to offer names.

Peace, said one.
One My Mother Knew, said another.
Ancestor, said a third.
Wind.
Rain.
Breath, said one near the back.
Refuge.
That Which Holds All.
A child said, Water.
Someone said, Kuan Yin.
Then: Womb.
Witness.
Great Kindness.
Great Eagle.
Eternal Stillness.

And then, there wasn’t any need to say the things
she’d thought would be important to say,
and everyone sat hushed, until someone said

Amen.


Note
Additional homilies delivered by Susan Yarbrough and Erin Walter will be added as they become available.


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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Building the world we dream about

Rev. Marisol Caballero, Ann Edwards, Rob Feeney, Barbara Abbate
April 19, 2015

Rev. Marisol Caballero and members of the “Building the World We Dream About” Class have been participating in an anti-racism course for the past two years. The worship service is delivered by its participants.


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Our UUnique Gifts

Rev. Jonalu Johnstone
March 22, 2015

It may be trite to say that each of us has unique gifts, but what are the implications of that? Our individual differences mean that we never see the world exactly the same way. What a challenge for living together in the world! But Unitarian Universalism gives us a head start. What a resource, if we can bring ourselves to offer it.


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Expect the unexpected

Rev. Kristian Schmidt
February 22, 2014

This Sunday we welcome the unexpected and celebrate that which is special among us. Guest ministers Kristian Schmidt and Christian Schmidt from churches in easter Massachucetts deliver the message.


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

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 15 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Facing our fears: A spiritual practice

Erin Walter
August 17, 2014

What are you so afraid of? And what can you do about it?


 

READING: An excerpt from Freedom from Fear
by Rev. Forrest Church

“One indication of how prevalent a role fear plays in our lives is that there are almost as many synonyms for it as there are Aleut [uh-loot] words for snow: terror, horror, apprehension, trepidation, perturbation, foreboding, concern, angst, agitation, anxiety, consternation, dread, fright, worry, cowardice, faintheartedness, chickenheartedness, disquiet, guilt, temerity, dismay, and alarm.”

“Any fear that recurs or malingers is more likely to pose a danger than protect us from one. . . . One person can spend a year worrying about whether he has cancer before going to the doctor to find out that he doesn’t or, if he does, that it is now too late to do anything about it. Another person can worry so much about the telltale signs of aging that she fails to enjoy her youth. When fear misdirects us down long, unnecessary detours, detracting from our journey without making it any safer, the time has come to pull over and ask for directions.”


 

READING: An excerpt from I Don’t Know How to Talk to White People About Ferguson,
By Ali Barthwell, published 8.15.14 in the online magazine XOJane.

As a black woman in a mostly white social circle, I don’t know who to turn to and how to talk to them about Ferguson. I feel really vulnerable. I feel really scared…. I’ve noticed that white people often misinterpret my emotions about race when I express them…. I’ve noticed that my white friends don’t always understand when their words come from a place of privilege and might be a bit tone deaf considering the state of the world.

The Monday following Mike Brown’s death, I had an improv rehearsal with a team of women I regularly practice and perform with. I’m the only black woman on the team. Part of our improv form is telling personal stories. One woman took center stage to tell us a story about how she was wronged by the police and can’t trust them anymore. She was given a small ticket for riding her bike on the sidewalk that she felt she didn’t deserve and was chastised by the police for not remembering the license plate of a car that hit her.

Her story was over. That was it. That’s why she couldn’t trust the police.

It’s hard to bring up the incredible terror I feel when I’m stopped by the police. Or the white hot shame and violation I felt as an eight-year-old when a security guard grabbed my arm when I snuck a gummi bear from a bulk candy bin. Or that I began to cry so hard at the George Zimmerman acquittal that I had to leave work early.

It’s hard to bring up these feelings with my white friends as black people march in Ferguson against a white police force because I’m scared I’ll be let down again.

I was let down by my white boyfriend who wouldn’t tell off his roommate when his roommate told me I was an angry uneducated black woman.

I was let down by my online alumnae community when I was accused of censoring white people when I said it was “uncool” to treat black men and women as lustful and that’s why everyone should date one at least once.

I’m so afraid that I’ll be let down by white people when I speak up about how I see myself in the faces of the black people on the news in Ferguson, MO that I would rather suffer in silence.

Because I don’t know how to tell people that I’d rather be let down by white society than be let down by white individuals.

How do I begin that dialogue?


 

SERMON:

If you had told me years ago that I would someday consider “facing fear” to be one of my personal spiritual practices, I’m not sure I would have believed you. After all, I am a classic white-knuckle flier and I didn’t learn to ride a bike until my 19th birthday because I was afraid to fall over. I’ve been afraid to exit the ski lift, to get bangs, and just generally to go backwards — backdive, backwards roll, backing into a parking space? I won’t do it.

But I’ve also always been a little fascinated by fear. As a kid, I tore out an article of a women’s magazine with a list of fears I couldn’t believe other people had — fear of sitting down, fear of antique furniture, fear of string. I kept the list on my bulletin board for years.

So let me assure you, as we get started, that whatever your fears are, you’re not alone. Everyone is afraid– or as Forrest Church described in his list, chickenhearted– about something. Some fears are more pressing than others, and we’ll get to that.

In recent years, I’ve faced off with some of my deepest fears and anxieties Ð either by accident, by choice, or through loss, and in doing so, I’ve seen how fear can help us answer questions like:

What do I want most in life? What is my purpose here? If we listen to what’s behind our fears, there is much we can learn.

—–

Fear is a big topic, so we’re gonna start very small. With grapes.

All my life, I ate green grapes but would not be caught dead near red ones. I was a green grape person. Like being a Beatles person vs Stones person. Until one day, about 10 years ago, I was on an airplane (keeping it in the air with the power of my mind, as usual. I hear the Dalai Lama does this too). When my meal came, I offered the stranger next to me my red grapes.

“You don’t want them?” he said.
“No, I only eat the green ones.” I said, as if this were a sane thing.
“Why? … They taste the same.”
“WHAT?”
“Yeah… they’re all the same.”
“Are you serious? Why didn’t anybody tell me?!”

I paused–for the first time–and asked myself what I had against red grapes. The answer was: I had no idea. Zero. Maybe my mom usually bought green ones when I was kid, so that was what I was used to. But somehow what I was “used to” evolved into “Oh no! I hate that! Get it away from me! Ew!”

And that’s a lot like how other fears work. The unknown becomes the feared, and ugly habits develop.

So I looked at the airplane grapes. Really looked at them. I plopped one in my mouth and let it squish around. And you know what? It did taste just like a green one. It still blows my mind.

By this time in our lives, how often do our senses experience something totally new? What a gift. What a spiritual experience. That one stranger, that one grape, changed my life. If I was wrong about red grapes, what else had I been wrong about all those years? I started trying new things, one at a time–avocados, creme brule, writing a song something in Nicaragua called the Monster Swing. I got bangs.

And suddenly I was living out my Unitarian Universalist values in a way I never expected. I joined a Community Supported Agriculture organization with other members of my Chicago church. Every Friday I opened my box of local veggies and found at least one I’ve never seen, let alone tasted. Cooking became a thrill, and I found myself a part of the ethical eating movement in my own small way.

We have a lot of bigger fears to talk about than food, but it is clear to me that in facing fears as an spiritual practice, it is just fine to start small. Whatever is holding you back, you have to start somewhere. Thanks to the grapes, whenever I run up against a case of my own fear or stubbornness or prejudice, I know what to do now. You can do it to. Ask yourself: Why do I think this? How did I get here? Do I really have to say no this? What would happen if I said yes? What if I did something differently? These are very UU questions.

And in fact, church is a great place to tackle some fears that are as common as they are debilitating: the fear of intimacy, fear of asking for help, fear of change. From saying hi in coffee hour to seeking out the care team to getting involved with the Capitol Campaign, we have a way for you to conquer some interpersonal fears. And with the Standing of the Side of Love campaign, UUs are committed to getting our nation past its fear of marriage equality, immigration reform, and more.

—-

Now on behalf of the contrarians among us, before we go any further, I’ll pose another question: what is so wrong with being afraid? Well, nothing, in some cases. I’m petrified of my kids running into traffic or falling out a window, and that fear makes me a more diligent parent. But many fears are doing us no favors. Research from Stanford suggests that prolonged worry and anxiety may lead to memory loss and brain damage. It can also raise blood pressure and stress levels, shortening life expectancy. So, basically, fear causes the thing many of us fear most: death.

—-

For the longest time, my greatest fear was dying. I just didn’t want to do it. I don’t want my family members to go that route either. There is a scene in the mystery-comedy Clue where Professor Plum asks, “What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?” And Mrs. Peacock responds, “No, just death, isn’t that enough?” That was me.

The thing about the fear of death though, is that sooner or later, we all have to face it. When I was 7 and my parents split up, I began worrying that something would happen to my dad when we were apart. When either of my parents was late to pick me up from school or a playdate, I panicked.

18 years later it did happen. This hilarious cowboy, in seemingly perfect health, suffered a sudden heart attack, was in a coma for five days, and died at age 55. Friend after friend stood up at my dad’s funeral and said, “David Walter was supposed to give my eulogy.”

My world ended, just like I had long feared it would. It will be 11 years this month.

But you learn something huge when you face your worst fear Ð the kind of fear that makes red grapes seem like, well, grapes. You learn you can live through it. That life goes on. Life can still be good.

—-

So, have you ever noticed how the very things that terrify some of us are the same things that thrill others? Bungee jumping, sushi, dancing, diversity, traveling, being alone, being in a crowd, falling in love, saying hi in coffee hour Ð this dichotomy tells us something. I’m not asking you to skydive if you don’t want to Ð I do NOT want to be that person on the front of your order of service and I’m cool with that Ð but I’m asking you to think of something you fear that secretly calls to you. Or a fear that speaks to a deeper need or concern.

You might start by digging around for fears that stand between you and your values. I’d argue fear is an obstacle to all of the UU principles, but there’s especially no question that fear stands in the way of the second: justice, equity and compassion in human relations; and the sixth: the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.

So give your own fears some thought this week. I’d love to know what you come up with.

—-

Now, another key thing about facing our fears is that it’s not a one-shot deal. You have to do it over and over again. That’s part of how it becomes a spiritual practice. Like prayer or meditation or loving kindness, you have to decide (and keep deciding) that you will choose courage over avoidance whenever you can.

One holiday break, I had to face my dad’s death again by going through his things in storage with my stepmom Ð his cowboy hats and boots, military medals, photographs and the corny stuff like a singing mounted fish.

I was afraid. Could I handle being in a cold storage room with all my father’s special things, things that didn’t even smell like him anymore, things I hated to admit he would never touch again? And what if my sisters Ð apparently braver, more dedicated daughters who had long since gone through all the boxes Ð what if they’d taken all the special things? What if I had waited too long, as Rev. Church described, and there was nothing left for me to treasure? Those fears ate at me.

As is usually the case, they were unfounded. The experience was almost entirely a joyful one. I felt close to my dad and to my stepmom, proud of all he accomplished, even if his life had been too short. And those nagging thoughts that had been in my mind for so long Ð “Donna is waiting for you! Everyone else has gone but you!” Ð have been replaced with the knowledge that I did my part, eventually, and tangible parts of my father are with me now.

For the many who share my fear of death, I should give the most important news wittoh you: that in the end, the moment of my father’s passing was peaceful and beautiful. And he is not gone. He is her. Always. With me. Love is so much stronger than fear.

—-

Now, I said some fears are more pressing than others. So, I want to talk to you about the role fear is playing in current events and what you can do about it. Because the sad fact is: not all deaths are peaceful and beautiful. And for many people, here and abroad, my dad’s “short” life of 55 years would be very long indeed.

I always come back to this quote from poet Robert Bly: “Wherever the wound appears in our psyche, that is precisely the place from which we will give our major gift to the community.” Please think about that. “Wherever the wound appears in our psyche, that is precisely the place from which we will give our major gift to the community.”

Do you feel wounded this week?
I do.
How can we make a gift of it?

I think about Robin Williams’ suicide and the need to better treat depression and mental illness. I think about the refugee children coming across U.S. borders, desperate for help. Mass incarceration. Conflicts abroad. Discrimination and abuse of transgender men and women. The needs in each community around the country.

The roots of the problems are deep and tangled. My greatest fear is no longer death, but that we will not make enough change in my lifetime.

To fulfill our mission–to transform lives and do justice– we have to look our fears in the eye — fear that we are too small, that the problems are too big, fear that there is nothing we can do, scientifically unfounded fears that refugee children are sicker than our own children and nonsense like that. Then summon our courage and get to work.

Get people registered to vote. VOTE. Volunteer with justice organizations in this church. Give money to organizations providing aid and working on legal challenges. Pressure your elected officials to change laws. There are easy forms and email addresses and good old-fashioned phone numbers on the internet. I urge you to start this week– and how about every week?– with half an hour of pestering people in power about the things that matter to you.

We cannot be too paralyzed by fear to take real actions.

We also cannot let fear stop us from talking, face to face, about Ferguson. About America. About Austin. About racism and injustice.

Ferguson, Missouri, United States of America,–where an unarmed black teenager, Mike Brown, was shot and killed by police and left in the street, bloody, uncovered, for hours for his family and neighbors to see. Where police met protesters with equipment far beyond that of even military infantry. Tear gas. Rubber bullets. Fear tactics. Terror.

Greg Howard wrote a powerful piece for the online magazine Deadspin this week, titled “America is Not for Black People.” I couldn’t bring myself to read this piece for a couple days. The headline alone was so painful. But I knew the fear of reading it meant I needed to read it. In the piece, Howard describes quote “a very real, very American fear” of black men.

“They-we-” he writes, “are inexplicably seen as a millions-strong army of potential killers, capable and cold enough that any single one could be a threat to a trained police officer in a bulletproof vest. There are reasons why white gun rights activists can walk into a Chipotle restaurant with assault rifles and be seen as gauche nuisances while unarmed black men are killed for reaching for their wallets or cell phones, or carrying children’s toys.”

Mike Brown’s death is a part of a very big, heartbreaking picture. How can we improve that picture — law, attitudes, accountability — if we are too scared to talk to each other about it? If we are scared of each other, period?

There is a fear of failure–a fear that we will say the wrong thing. A fear that everything will come out wrong and we will make it worse. I have this fear standing before you now. I can’t and I don’t pretend to have all the answers.

But the only way we can make racism and abuse of power and gross inequality worse right now is by giving up, by not caring, by putting a happy face on it, by looking away.

Earlier this year I attended Bahai Racial Unity Day at the San Marcos UU Fellowship. There, the lay leader read this unforgettable quote from Rev. Dr. Rebecca Parker, former president of Starr King School for the Ministry: “The inner journey of anti-racism for whites involves learning to withdraw our negative and positive projections from people of color. Whites must become relationally committed to meeting people of color as themselves, not as symbolic extensions of ourselves.”

Friends and church members of color, it is not your job to educate those of us who are white. But as a member of this congregation who wants it to be as welcoming and diverse and true to our mission as possible, I very much want to listen to what you have to say.

Those of us who are white — we must rise above the tendency to take things personally. We mus be present to hear and feel the individual experiences of people of color. When so many say, as Ali Barthwell wrote in XOJane, that they are terrified of police, we mustn’t try to debate those feelings. We must not equate loss of life and lifetimes of oppression to property damage.

It’s about understanding that current events do not happen in a vacuum. It’s about recognizing, as we say in the UU church, the inherent worth and dignity of our fellow Americans, so we can make very real change– in the systems, in ourselves, in our relationships.

—-

The tasks ahead for us– all of us — are daunting. They are scary. But my experience with the spiritual practice of facing fear, from now seemingly petty fears like foods and hairstyles to something as personal and profound as losing a loved one, is that we can tackle this. We can overcome our fears, even the biggest ones. We don’t have to be perfect, and we have what it takes.

When your own fear about saying the wrong thing is about to halt a conversation that needs to be had, be brave. Remember that there are others in this country who fear for their children walking down the street–who fear the dangers of a drug war they did not start, who live in unsafe conditions in part due to unjust laws and a lack of living wage. And there are even those with an equally tragic, but far more modern fear–that if I, for example, as a white mother, do not teach my son well–and maybe even if I do–he could end up as the shooter in a school or a movie theater or in SWAT gear in a racially charged tragedy like Ferguson.

I acknowledge those fears today so that we may know they are real AND so that we may start to overcome them. Let us not be downtrodden. Let us not borrow sorrow, as the saying goes, from the people of Ferguson. Instead, let’s be the ones who use our privileges — one of which is witnessing Ferguson’s plight from a physical distance — to do the work of racial reconciliation, social justice, and human rights. We must rest and work, pray and work, meditate and work, dance for joy and work. Let’s overcome our fears, shine our lights brightly, and be the change we want to see, for us all.

I invite you to a big, important anti-racism workshop hosted and led by this church, coming up on Sept 5-6. Please talk to Rev. Mari Caballero and Chris Jimmerson. I will be there. It is open to our youth, to our adults, to the public, to people of all backgrounds.

Thank you for listening with loving hearts. We will close today with the responsive reading that is an insert to your order of service. The Samuel DeWitt Proctor Conference, which represents a cross section of progressive African American faith leaders and their congregations, has asked churches like ours to join them in this litany today.


 

A Litany For Children Slain By Violence and Traumatized By Those Called to “Serve and Protect”

August 17, 2014 ©2014
by Samuel DeWitt Proctor Conference, adapted by Erin Walter

Leader: A sound is heard in Ramah, the sound of bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted, for they are dead.

Congregation: We pray for the families of children who have been slain by gun violence, left to die on streets with less dignity than is given to animals.

Leader: A sound is heard in every city. Communities are weeping generationally for their children. Our sons, like Emmett Till, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Michael Brown and John Crawford. Our daughters, like Ayanna Jones, Miriam Carey, Malisa Williams and Tarika Wilson.

Congregation: As people of this loving community, we weep for the lives of all children who, instead of enjoying the sweetness of innocence, become victims of hate, victims of war, and victims of violence.

Leader: Now, let us rise up and interrupt these rushing waters of violence that leave children and communities wounded and paralyzed, traumatized by internal disintegration and state terror. Let us rise up and demand this nation abandon its affair with beliefs, practices and laws that are rooted in militarism, justified by racism and propped up by systemic inequities.

Congregation: We will rise up against laws that have no concern for life, nor any concern for love. We will rise up until justice rolls on like a river and righteousness like a never failing stream.

Leader: Spirit of life and love and all that is holy, we commit ourselves to seeing all children, no matter their age or race, as precious gifts, created with transformative purpose and unlimited promise.

Congregation: And for that cause, we pledge to be hedges of protection for their lives, we pledge to stand against anything that threatens their potential or promise.

All: We embody the universal spirit of Ubuntu, “I am because we are and because we are, I am.” We are all Rachel crying for the children! Therefore, we pledge to lock arms in solidarity with the families of the slain. We pledge to let our voices be heard all over this nation and the world, for we know we are called to do what is just and right.


 

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 14 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.

 

Say it loud-I’m UU and I’m proud

Eric Hepburn
July 6, 2014

Let’s talk about some of the many things about which we are justifiably proud. Let’s talk about the quality of our A-game and when (and how) we bring it. How can we bring our A-game more often, more consistently, more reliably? What’s the shame in our game? We’re gonna talk about that, too.


 

Call to worship:

“It is easy to see the faults of others, but difficult to see one’s own faults. One shows the faults of others like chaff winnowed in the wind, but one conceals one’s own faults as a cunning gambler conceals his dice.”
_ Buddha, Dhammapada 252


 

Reading

We’ll build a land where we bind up the broken. We’ll build a land where the captives go free, where the oil of gladness dissolves all mourning. Oh, we’ll build a promised land that can be.

We’ll build a land where we bring the good tidings to all the afflicted and all those who mourn.

And we’ll give them garlands instead of ashes. Oh, we’ll build a land where peace is born.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers, anointed by God, may then create peace: where justice shall roll down like waters, and peace like an ever-flowing stream.


 

Sermon: Say It Loud: I’m Austin UU and I’m Proud

When Meg asked me to speak today, she said that she needed someone to give a rousing “This is who we are! This is what we are about” sermon. The title of the sermon is, of course, a riff on the famous 1968 hit from James Brown, Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud, which was the most rousing “This is who we are” song I could think of at the time. So when it came time to sit down and write the content of the sermon, I did a little background research. I found that James Brown did a free televised concert the day after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination to assist in quelling the threat of riots and that the song was part of an activist push by The Godfather of Soul in the wake of those events. But what really caught my attention was that, sixteen years later, during a 1984 interview, Brown expressed regret saying, “…if I had my choice, I wouldn’t have done it, because I don’t like defining anyone by race. To teach race is to teach separatism.” James Brown has put his finger directly on the fulcrum of today’s sermon, how can we celebrate pride in who we are, pride in what we are about, without that pride becoming separatist. Without that pride spilling over into self-righteousness, into feeling that ‘we’ are better than ‘them’.

So I’m going to tell you my three favorite things about our church and Unitarian Universalism as I’ve experienced it here, it’s my top 3 – My favorite thing about this church is probably best expressed by something I wrote for a panel discussion on religion and the environment at St. Edwards University in 2008:

“I belong to a Unitarian Universalist Church not because I identify as a Unitarian Universalist, but because I believe that the Unitarianism Universalism is the contemporary religion most closely poised to become what I would call post-denominational. It is denominational thinking that separates Christians, Jews, Hindus, Muslims, Sihks, Buddhists, etc. Even when Christians use the term non-denominational, what they mean is precisely denominational in its implication: we are not allied with them. Post-denominational thinking recognizes that, within the context of a human meta-history, many mythologies, philosophies, and prophecies have developed. As Gandhi famously said, “I am a Christian and a Muslim and a Hindu, and so are all of you!” If we survey this variety of human wisdom traditions we can begin to ascertain patterns. Some patterns reveal falseness: they reveal the self-serving, the greedy, the insecure, and the power hungry, these are ultimately revealed by their fruits. Other parts of the pattern seem to reveal insight, insight into the true nature of life and the universe, insight into the nature of humanity, insight into the value of justice, honesty, integrity, and compassion. Post-denominational religion, is concerned with harvesting, developing, expanding, and teaching human wisdom, regardless of culture, language, race, ethnicity, national or regional origin, or any other contrivance which has classically separated (people) from one another.”

So this, for me, is the A-Game of Unitarian Universalism and of this church – we have the SPACE and the ENCOURAGEMENT to draw from ALL the sources of human wisdom in order to find our own path of spiritual progress … in order to nourish souls and transform lives. We have sermons which draw from every religious tradition, cutting edge science, literature, genre fiction, you name it… if it explores the human condition – and to be honest, what doesn’t – it is in-bounds.

Recently, I have been reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle and he says the following, which I think helps to sharpen why the SPACE provided by UU’ism is important. Tolle says,

“The Catholic and other churches are actually correct when they identify relativism, the belief that there is no absolute truth to guide human behavior, as one of the evils of our times; but you won’t find absolute truth if you look for it where it cannot be found: in doctrines, ideologies, sets of rules, or stories. What do all of these have in common? They are made up of thought. Thought can at best point to the truth, but it never is the truth. That’s why Buddhists say “The finger pointing to the moon is not the moon.” All religions are equally false and equally true, depending on how you use them. You can use them in the service of the ego, or you can use them in the service of the Truth. If you believe that only your religion is the Truth, you are using it in the service of the ego. Used in such a way, religion becomes ideology and creates an illusory sense of superiority as well as division and conflict between people. In the service of Truth, religious teachings represent signposts or maps left behind by awakened humans to assist you in spiritual awakening … “

I agree with Tolle that the Truth, the one with a capital T, can’t be found in words or thoughts, that those forms can, at best, point to the Truth, but they never ARE the Truth. So, if the words and stories aren’t the truth – what is needed beyond words and stories is the SPACE for pointing, the SPACE for the unpronounceable name of God to be revealed … these glimpses of the Truth behind the words, called Satori in Zen Buddhism, are an important part of what nourishes souls and transforms lives.

Now, before we fall into the trap of patting ourselves on the back for having no creed and the space it provides, I have to warn you that I think the ego trap for contemporary UU’s is a little more subtle …

UU’s tend to be in the service of the ego, instead of the service of the Truth when we use our lack of creed or any other aspect of our identity to feel superior to other religions and other churches or when we assume that our way is the right way.

UU’s tend to be in the service of the ego, instead of the service of the Truth when we try to enhance our collective identity by claiming that historical figures whose ideas we respect were UU’s, even if they weren’t or by claiming that they would have, could have, or should have been UU’s.

UU’s tend to be in the service of the ego, instead of the service of the truth when we believe that the Truth is IN words and not beneath them. When we do this, we mistake cleverness for wisdom and we invite self-righteousness and ego to dom\nate our actions. Because, Meg is on to something when she warns us, repeatedly, that the moment when you feel self-righteous is the moment when you are about to do something… unwise.

I have tried my best to take her advice to heart while I was writing this sermon, but it is hard advice … after all, self-righteousness feels… SO… right!

My second favorite thing about this church in particular and UUism in general, is that we are moving consistently in a direction where we value being at PEACE over being RIGHT. Choosing peace, in today’s world, is serious A-Game. Obviously, dropping the creed was a big step forward in this area, but at a more local level, both in time and space, we are continuing to push toward an ideal for ourselves where we find tremendous value in being at peace and very little value in being right.

Let’s start with our Covenant of Healthy Relations – essentially the only substantive promise required for membership in this community – and a document that I think is quite remarkable in its emphasis – and in what it leaves out:

As a religious community, we promise: To Welcome and Serve

  • By being intentionally hospitable to all people of good will
  • By being present with one another through life’s transitions
  • & By encouraging the spiritual growth of people of all ages

As a religious community, we promise: To Nurture and Protect

  • By communicating with one another directly in a spirit of compassion and good will
  • By speaking when silence would inhibit progress
  • By disagreeing from a place of curiosity and respect
  • By interrupting hurtful interactions when we witness them
  • & By expressing our appreciation to each other

As a religious community, we promise: To Sustain and Build

  • By affirming our gratitude with generous gifts of time, talent and money for our beloved community
  • By honoring our commitments to ourselves and one another for the sake of our own integrity and that of our congregation
  • & By forgiving ourselves and others when we fall short of expectations, showing good humor and the optimism required for moving forward

Thus do we covenant with one another.

That’s it. We basically have to promise to participate and be nice to each other. We have to promise to value being at peace with one another and to maintain that peace over and above all other agendas.

Why? Well, I hope it is because we realize that the product is not independent of the process. You can only create peace by being peaceful, you can only create generosity by being generous, you can only create cooperation by being cooperative. All other attempts to manipulate the means-ends relationship are intrinsically doomed to failure. As Gandhi says, “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

Peace is another kind of space that we create, it is a space of safety and a space for being that is necessary for the nourishment of souls and the transformation of lives.

My third favorite thing about our church is our commitment to DO JUSTICE. Doing justice is an ongoing thing, it requires justice in our interactions with each other, it requires justice in how we choose to be in the world, it provides opportunities for us to engage in collective action against issues of injustice in our communities and in the larger world.

When I think of the social justice work that we do, and when I think about what to be proud of about our church, when I think about our A-Game, I think of our freeze night program. It is a program that has been in operation for a long time and it takes in single homeless men, the most underserved and arguably the most difficult segment of the homeless population. When we walk the walk, when we put our money where our mouth is, we rock. We pick hard challenges and we step up to the plate to take them on. And, in many ways, every single member of this church can feel proud of our successes in these areas. Because each of us contributes in our own way: as it says in our covenant – we affirm “our gratitude with generous gifts of time, talent and money.”

And, when I meet with individual members of our congregation and I find out about the individual justice work that they are doing in their lives and in the community, that makes me justifiably proud that this community that we support nurtures and supports the kinds of people who go out into the world and do justice.

I remember when we went through the mission development process, I was a trustee at the time, we really struggled with HOW to use the word justice in the mission. It was really clear from all the work we did with the congregation that justice work was critically important to this congregation, but we had to put the word justice into the mission and we struggled to find the right word to go with it. We talked about valuing justice and about practicing justice, we talked about a lot of different words that tried to capture the right relationship with justice for our congregation, but where we ended was DO. Because the only important thing about justice, in the end, is that it gets DONE. And the only way to get justice done is to DO IT NOW, in the present tense, in this moment – the present – the only moment there ever is. You can’t put off doing justice until later, that’s just an excuse for allowing injustice to continue. Now DO JUSTICE are just words, but they point to a deep truth about HOW WE want to BE in the world.

What I hope my ‘top 3’ list has done is paint a certain perspective of how I see our mission to ‘nourish souls, transform lives and do justice’ and I want to leave you with a brief reading from Eckhart Tolle that I think captures how doing justice from a spiritually nourished and transformative space is different than how western culture typically approaches such issues:

“These days I frequently hear the expression “the war against” this or that, and whenever I hear this, I know that it is condemned to failure. There is the war against drugs, the war against crime, the war against terrorism, the war against cancer, the war against poverty, and so on… War is a mind-set, and all action that comes out of such a mind-set will either strengthen the enemy, the perceived evil, or, if the war is won, will create a new enemy, a new evil equal to and often worse than the one that was defeated … Whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists … Compassion arises when you recognize that all are suffering from the same sickness of the mind … (ego).”

Because ego, collectively and individually, is the shame in our game – it is that feeling of self-rightrousness that corrupts our best intentions and shifts our attention and our energy from the service of the Truth, to the service of theidentity. When we bring our A-Game,it is strong, it stands on the shoulders of every giant we can find, it holds hands with all, excludes none who are able and willing, and it is in the service of life, in the service of the Truth… and that makes all the difference.


 

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

Most sermons delivered at the First UU Church of Austin during the past 14 years are available online through this website. You will find links to them in the right sidebar menu labeled Sermons. The Indexes link leads to tables of all sermons for each year listed by date (newest to oldest) with topic and speaker. Click on the topic to go to a sermon.