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Marisol Caballero, M.Div.

Interim director of Lifespan Religious Education

August 26, 2012

There has been much dialogue within our congregations and within our movement about working to become a more welcoming and a more multicultural/multiethnic faith. This is both exciting and challenging work that grows the humanity of all those who venture to undertake it with an open mind and in humility. What will this work require of those of us who are already here, in order to better welcome those who we’d like to join us? What will we gain and what must we sacrifice? What does it truly mean to be an ally to those who live as members of less dominant groups?

Sermon:

Good morning. I cannot express how thrilling it is to be in this pulpit! Each time I stand here, I remember standing here and delivering my first sermon as a twenty-year-old member of this congregation. It was part of a lay-led gay pride service that focused on the coming out process as a means of celebrating one’s authentic self. I remember using the then-recently released film, Pleasantville, as my text, of sorts, and compared shamefully hiding away parts of ourselves that we should be proud of to living in a black-and-white world, rather than in Technicolor. Through this experience, and with the encouragement of this congregation, I was able to listen to that still, small voice within me and uncover my call to ministry.

I first heard that whisper many months before, when I attended my first service here. One of the two Interim Co-Ministers, the late Rev. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley, was leading service that day. Having grown up in conservative northern West Texas, I had never before laid eyes on a woman minister, let alone a woman of color minister! In fact, my little fellowship was too small to even have a minister, so I had no idea that Unitarian Universalists ordained anyone, and before me stood a role model whose existence was proof that I could bring my whole self into service of this faith that I love in a way I had never before imagined.

As I got to know Marjorie better over the years and she took me under her wing, she told stories of her difficult journey as a UU minister of color. She experienced sexism and racism within our ranks, most often in the form of the less tangible microagressions, than the easy-to-recognize acts of bigotry that make levelheaded, compassionate people recoil.

Microagressions are small acts that are done, often without thought or malicious intent, which serve to remind others that they exist outside of what is considered normal or acceptable. We have all born witness to various microagressions and, most likely, have uttered them ourselves without realizing it. A boy is told, “Stop being such a girl!” A woman, “Wow, who knew you could fix a flat tire!” A plus sized woman, “You know, you have a very pretty face.” A lesbian couple, “So, I guess she’s more of the man, right? And you’re the woman?” Or, “that’s funny, I couldn’t tell you were Chinese on the phone!” Or, “It’s so rude when you say things in Spanish with others when you’re hanging out with me.”

We would be hard-pressed to find a soul in this room that hasn’t had such an experience that made them feel diminished in some way, which made them feel as if they did not matter. When someone fails to see us as an individual person of worth, it has the effect of isolating everyone involved from recognizing our inherent connectedness. Just as we all can recall feeling diminished, we all have experienced pain. We all yearn to feel loved. We’ve known the joy of friendship and the agony of loss. We’ve all had hard days that we cannot wait to close the door on with a good night’s sleep. We all have known what it feels like to laugh so hard or to worry so much about someone that it hurts.

And yet, we have all been enculturated since birth to fear and judge those who are different from ourselves. I become so frustrated when I hear otherwise progressive folks lifting up the word “tolerance.” In my youth, I was so proud to be a member of the UU Fellowship of Odessa, TX, as its sign read “Freedom, Reason, and Tolerance.” But, as I grew into adulthood, & I began to notice more & more that the majority of Unitarian Universalists don’t look like me, tolerance sounded less and less appealing. Those who are tolerated do not fully have a place. Sure, blatant name-calling and the like are frowned upon with tolerance, but does that mean that tongues are being bitten? Maybe, maybe not. One who is tolerated is never certain.

As the “good liberals” who we are, we would like to think that we have moved beyond tolerance to acceptance. But have we, truly? It may be safe to say that many if not most or all of us would like to have greater diversity in our UU congregations. Most congregations, this one not withstanding, have a smattering of ethnic, gender, ability, and sexual diversity, but by and large, ours is still a predominantly a White, heterosexual, upper middle class, highly educated denomination. If we are accepting, why is this the case? Why are we not more diverse?

Acceptance is a tough place to come to. It requires intention and deep soul work to become a reality. We do not simply become accepting because we wish ourselves to be or because we believe ourselves to be. Because we are all taught racism, to varying degrees, (either by our families of origin and/or by our society that values as the norm European influence and culture and Whiteness as the standard of beauty and intelligence) as well as all of the other “isms” (sexism, heterosexism, ableism, ageism, classism, etc.) it takes deliberate time and energy to unlearn all that we have been taught, much of which has been buried deep in our wiring, where we keep the less cute parts of ourselves. We don’t usually expose these parts to the light of day for fear of judgment by ourselves & by others. Without taking the risk and doing this work in faithful community, of engaging in a remedial education of love, an increase of diversity will be a faade and we will be engaging in tokenism. We may gain the appearance of an accepting denomination but we will, in essence, be merely tolerant of difference.

Robert W. Karnan, UU minister to a church in Portmouth, New Hampshire that was able to grow in diversity through multiculturalism, writes similarly about the experience, “Inclusive Congregational membership means intentionally opening the doors and pews with a genuine welcome to all who come in goodwill. It means a natural concomitant fear among the existing members about the many unknown people who begin to sit next to and join them in worship with those who have been there a long time. We found that this is the frontier for confrontation with racism, class phobia, ageism, genderism, homophobia, and all other prejudices that we hold mostly privately just under the surface of our daily lives…”

How will we go about achieving an authentic celebration of difference? The answer must begin by stating that diversity, in and of itself, cannot be the ultimate goal absent from working toward ending oppression and becoming allies to one another. We have a spiritual imperative to end racism and other forms of oppression, to become allies to the marginalized. Doing this work helps us to grow more fully into our humanity. It recognizes the worth and dignity of every person and embraces our interconnectedness. Anti-racism and anti-oppression work, in general, requires us to look directly at ourselves and at others and do away with rhetoric which values “colorblindness” and ignoring difference. Joo Young Choi, a lifelong UU and friend I met through DRUUMM, a UU people of color organization, once addressed a 2005 UU youth conference with the following,

“Friend, if you wish to love me, do not be blind to my color, my sexuality, my abilities, my class. If you wish to love me, do not be blind to systemic oppression, and do not be blind to the oppression that has affected me. My color is beautiful.”

I have certainly experienced my share of racism in my life, not to mention my experiences of sexism, homophobia, and whatever the “ism” is called by which people from elsewhere negatively judge Texans. Within UU congregations, I often hear comments such as, “you don’t look like a Unitarian! You look like you’d be a Roman Catholic.” Or, “Wow! That was powerful! Do you write your sermons yourself?!” Or, “So, what part of Mexico were you born in?” (To that one I answer, “Texas- the northern part of Mexico.”) I’ve been mistaken for the Latina childcare worker after preaching and while standing in my robe! The list can go onÉ But, in doing this work, I have found that my stories are not unique. We have all been damaged by the continued existence of oppression. Our humanity has been tried and lessened. Our work begins by undoing these lessons and learning to become an ally, to be a community of allies to the historically marginalized, among us and outside of these walls.

There are many ways to begin this crucial work of becoming an ally. By increasing our awareness of culture and difference, we become more mindful- more mindful of our “attitudes, values, and assumptions.” We must examine our cultural “norms” and begin to become curious about how they came to be. I have a funny story about this from seminary: we were placing our snacks out before a Student Senate meeting when my friend, Dominique, a black woman, and I began teasing two of our white friends, Margaret and Jessica, about their dish. They had brought hummus and baby carrots. We pointed out the fact that at every meeting there was always sure to be a white girl who brought baby carrots and hummus. After the four of us had a good laugh, Margaret and Jessica gained an awareness of the reality and existence of white dominant culture and planned a seminary chapel service that explored whiteness further, calling it the “White Girls’ Chapel Service”. What began as a joke between friends, ended up bringing some healing and opening the eyes of all who attended the worship service.

So, to achieve the goal of diversity begins in anti-racism/anti-oppression but it must end in working toward multiculturalism, for diversity on its own is not sustainable without multiculturalism and multiculturalism cannot be built without the foundation of anti-oppression. The journey toward becoming truly welcoming to all, of becoming allies, is tough work, but it’s soul-feeding work. These subjects are easier not to talk about. This is work that requires courage to move beyond denial, guilt, shame, and apathy.

But, I wonder, what will our congregations look like when we arrive? How will we measure our success? Is there truly a destination, or should we view the journey as an ongoing process, forever growing our humanity? Rev. Paul Rasor says, “Liberals want to create a strong and inclusive community, but we often want to do it without giving up anything, without letting down the barriers we erect around ourselves in the name of individual autonomy.” Change can be a scary thing. But, if our church culture changes to more fully embrace multiculturalism, we need not change our core values, which is what makes us Unitarian Universalists. We won’t throw out all of the great old hymns or traditions, we will simply add to our repertoire. True multiculturalism does not recognize one culture as normative over any other, be it heterosexual culture, English-speaking, two-parent households, white, upper middle-class, gender normative, or able-bodied cultures, but it does embrace each as a rich and valuable member of the human family.

What do we have to gain? Karnan admits that, “An inclusive opening brings discomfort. The discomfort exists for those who are already members and it exists for the newcomer, tooÉ[but] the journey has meant that we speak more honestly & listen more carefully. It has meant the growth of the heart and the spirit of love to encompass more than the congregation has previously been willing to see & know. It has meant becoming a close friend to someone who ten years ago might have been avoided because of their identity or looks or presumed status. We have begun to remake our world, beginning with ourselves, and the transformation has been as liberating as it has been demanding.”

I look forward to engaging in this transformative, community building, justice ensuring; this holy work with this congregation this fall. We will laugh, cry, discover, and grow in spirit together as we strive to become better allies. May it be so.

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Dwayne Windham

August 5, 2012

The Magic of I Am (you fill in the blank). Inspired by the Harry Potter book series, this sermon delves into the pensieve of words we use to describe ourselves.

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First UU Church of Austin General Assembly Attendees

Gillian Redfearn, Mike LeBurkien, Judy Sadegh, Carolyn Gremminger & Peggy Morton

July 29, 2012

Bringing Justice Home from General Assembly. FUUCA members Gillian Redfearn, Mike LeBurkien, Judy Sadegh, Carolyn Gremminger & Peggy Morton share their General Assembly experiences and human interest stories from immigrants, undocumented workers, undocumented children, and UUs around the nation who are working for Social Justice.

Gillian Redfearn

I don’t want to assume that you all know what General Assembly is and so I won’t. General Assembly, also known as GA, is the Unitarian Universalists’ annual meeting. It is attended by thousands of UUs and is held in cities all across the United States. This year’s GA held in Phoenix, a decision which had been made some years ago, left many of us wondering how could we possibly go to Phoenix in light of its anti-immigrant laws, best known as the Arizona Senate Bill 1070, put into place in 2010. BUT IN TRUTH, HOW COULD WE NOT GO TO ARIZONA?! It was our opportunity to live our UU faith, live our UU principles, make a difference and most importantly, understand what doing justice really means. This GA, in fact, quickly became identified as the Justice Assembly. It was an opportunity to learn from, partner with and support the many groups and individuals whose daily work, seven days a week, is for the greater good of all people.

There are so many organizations hard at work in Arizona and some of those organizations include the ACLU, ALEC, Grassroots Leadership, National Day Laborers Union, Amnesty International, Puente Arizona, American Progress, and No Mas Muertes.

In coordination with these many groups and during GA, the UUs decided to hold vigil at the local Phoenix prison and it was this vigil that most made me want to attend this year’s GA. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Phoenix prison, but it is rather infamous and is best known as America’s toughest jail or Sherriff’s Appaio’s tent jails, where 1,000 plus undocumented people are being held for no REAL crime. This place resembles a concentration camp, even Sherriff Appaio describes it as such. There is no a/c in a place where temperatures can be as high as 118 degrees, meals are only served twice a day, and medical attention is often denied. The tent jails were established in 1993 when Sherriff Appaio decided to use tents acquired at a surplus sale after the Gulf War, rather than add on to the existing building, seemingly a cheap solution. Since then approximately 138,000 people have passed through these tents and approximately 150 people have died there.

Every night in Phoenix at the prison, a small group of people hold a vigil for those held in those tents, probably in many cases, their own family and friends. On the evening of Saturday night, June 23rd, we were able to add to their support in a BIG way. Approximately 2,000 of us, many of us wearing our “Standing on the Side of Love” t-shirts, boarded school buses and were driven to the prison to stand with these people. For the “regulars” at the prison, it must have been quite a sight to see as bus after bus arrived and dropped off 100s of people, then leaving again only to return with even more people.

For two hours, we stood together, peacefully, singing songs and chanting words of support that we hoped and believed could be heard by those locked up inside. The experience of standing with so many people who share your core beliefs is a rare one and it touched me greatly, but what I most remember about the vigil is the gratitude of the “regulars.” As we reloaded onto the buses, they thanked us at large and in many cases, thanked us individually. One woman, in particular, and I made eye contact and I noted that there were tears running down her face as she said, “Gracias. Thank you.” I was so sad in that moment, but I have to believe that our presence brought a renewed energy and hope, but at the very least, that they, the inmates, the families, the Phoenix Latino community, know that they have support outside their own communities and that we, who do not suffer the same injustices, are aware of theirs. I hope and pray that we can live up to the call to “do justice. “

Judy Sadegh

I am Judy Sadegh and I have attended GA several times in the past, but this Justice GA was a very special experience for me.

Describing GA is almost as challenging as trying to decide one’s schedule from all the programs offered from 7am to 11pm during the four and a half days of the conference. It is really unique for each individual as I think you will hear today. If you would like to get a better picture of the entire experience, you can see and hear many of the sessions on the UUA website.

Daily worship services were inspiring and the music was wonderful. There were a lot of new songs introduced, but it is also amazing how great our familiar hymns sound with 3000+ UUs singing together.

Every day we heard stories from members of the partner organizations in Phoenix about the hardships people suffer there. We heard of children afraid parents would not be able to pick them up from school, of parents afraid to go out or send their children to school after hearing about issues going on in the community.

One family’s story especially affected me. Maria’s mother came to the US with her young son before Maria was born. Last year the mother was stopped because of a burned out taillight, detained and deported as a result. Maria remained in Arizona with an aunt and finished high school. She spoke to us of her sadness that her mother could not attend her graduation. Maria is very close to her brother and his family, but she fears that he will be deported, as well. Maria’s sister-in-law spoke while holding her young toddler of the fear that her husband would be deported. He had an opportunity to go back to Mexico to try to get a Visa. However, he was told that it might take a year before he got an answer and there was no guarantee that he would be able to return. He decided to stay in Phoenix so that he could participate in his daughter’s early years. Although the stated policies of ICE and the administration focus on deporting criminals and dangerous individuals, the reality is that families are being torn apart and individuals who have lived peacefully in our communities for many years are being swept up and sent back to countries where they are no longer familiar.

In my recent reading I came across a quote from Max Frisch, a Swiss playwright which struck a note with me. In 1965 when guest worker programs were starting in Europe, he wrote, “We called for workers, and there came human beings.” May we never lose sight of the fact that we are all human beings, documented or undocumented.

Carolyn Gremminger – Exposing For Profit Incarceration

One of the talks that hit close to home was on For Profit Incarceration and Detention Centers.

I am reminded by our Principle that all people have inherent worth and dignity, not just some, not just the documented..

The talk focused on Corporations that profit from the detention of undocumented people. They treat this population as profitable new market. The Industry lobbies for and drafts harsh anti-immigration legislation. The owners profit from the suffering of others. They exploit inmate labor by contracting with outside corporations, paying the inmates roughly 40 cents an hour.

In my mind, this is exploitation. I hope it is in your mind, too. I learned that the facilities are often sub par for both the incarcerated and the staff, while the owners profit enormously. Security is lax and there is very limited governmental oversite of their operations.

Corporations should not be allowed to profit from the incarceration of Human Beings.

What can we do?

Visit the website: Grassrootsleadership.org. Attend Teach in at First UU on Saturday, August 4, at 6pm.

Contribute to organizations working to stop incarceration and detention for profit.

Get educated.

Join other faith based organizations in the opposition.

Make Family members and friends aware of this issue

Talk with elected officials.

Strive for a more accountable and humane Criminal Justice System.

Peggy Morton

Hello, I’m Peggy Morton and I’m you’re new Social Action Chair, and I bet you can guess why I was attracted to attending my first GA, it’s Justice Theme.

Now, I’d like for you to imaging these snippets of stories you’ve just heard, multiply that times 25 and that’s how my head was spinning the the third night when we heard Keynote speaker Maria Hinojosa, who you may know from her NPR Radio program Latino USA.

After having been an undocumented student and worker, she eventually became an American citizen and one day when she was talking about illegals, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Ellie Wiesel said “Don’t say that.” and asked “Why do you call them illegals?”

When we get a speeding ticket, you don’t hear anyone call us illegal drivers. Lou Dobbs first call them illegals like the Nazis had called Jews illegals. I left GA with the new language of calling them undocumented workers, undocumented students or undocumented children.

Another lesson I learned at GA was that I had to travel to Arizona to connect with fellow Austin UUs, not only from our church but also our other Austin UU churches Live Oak in Cedar Park & Wildflower in South Austin.

We returned and joined forces to work with Austin immigrant rights and labor worker rights groups to protest in front of Sheriff Greg Hamilton’s office July11 because he gives Immigration Customs Enforcement officers 24-7 access to our Travis County jails, which is why we have one of the highest deportation rates of non-criminal undocumented workers in our nation.

At the rally, we heard a local undocumented female student tell about being picked up for J-walking and held at Travis County taxpayer expense in jail for 4 days. Yes, for a misdemeanor J-walking offense she served time. She’s not being deported, she’s a law abiding student.

I appreciate all of you here today listening to our stories because just hearing what’s happening in our own city can be heart-wrenching and for many of you that in it’s self is major, but for those of you wondering what you can do, I hope you’ll join me as our Social Action committee adds immigrant rights to our mission to do Justice.

Next weekend we will host 30 members of the National Day Labor Organizing Network, who are traveling across the country to tell their stories. They’re traveling on the UndocuBus and they say “No papers, no fear” to put a spotlight on the dehumanization that’s taking place in our country. They will roll out sleeping bags in Howson Hall Friday night through Monday morning and you’re welcome to sign up to help us feed and host them.

We also want to invite you to join us and our guests as we head over to Sheriff Hamilton’s office again next Friday at noon to stand behind our Standing on the Side of Love banner and work to convince the sheriff that he doesn’t have to keep giving ICE 24-7 access to our jails. We want to build trust between our law enforcement officers and our community.

On Saturday, I hope you’ll attend the TeachIn that Carolyn told you about and then next Sunday before the Worship service, please come to a casual meet and greet breakfast in Howson Hall eat tacos and visit with our guests personally to get to know them as fellow humans.

We will also have future opportunities to learn what we can do to stop the dehumanization because we must return to civility as we recognize the worth and dignity of all people.

After the service today, our group will line up as usual outside the sanctuary, except for me because I’ll head to the Social Action table in the gallery to visit with you, give you flyers about our planned activities and tell about how you can help us host the UndocuBus travelers.

If you want to join our grassroots effort, please visit with me at our Social Action table to see how you can join the good fight with the Power of Love.

Rev. Dr. Rebecca Parker’s lecture “Standing on Holy Ground” can be found on our iTunes podcast. Podcasts of sermons are also available for free on iTunes. Click here.

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Amanda Yaira Robinson

July 22, 2012

The news is grim: war, hunger, poverty, global warming. Sometimes the scope of these challenges is overwhelming, and we wonder whether our efforts even matter. Jewish teachings remind us to focus on the distance between our experience of the world as it is and visions of what it could or should be. What do we do with these tensions? How can we bridge the distances? Today, we’ll talk about possibility, transformation and what Karl Barth called an “uprising against the disorder of the world.”

Amanda Yaira Robinson coordinates Texas Interfaith Power and Light (TXIPL), the environmental program of The Texas Interfaith Center for Public Policy. TXIPL is one of 39 state Interfaith Power and Light programs, each voicing a religious response to global warming. Amanda served for five years as director of religious education in Unitarian Universalist churches before joining TICPP staff in 2008, and she’s working on a Master’s in Theological Studies at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Granddaughter of a Christian minister and daughter of Sufi teachers, she is joyfully Jewish.

Story

Today I have a story for you. It is based on the teachings of the 16th century Jewish mystic, Isaac Luria. Every people, every culture, every religion all around the world has at least one story about the creation of the world-this is one of those stories.

In the beginning, all that was, was the Divine Mystery that some people call God. We can imagine this God Mystery as being like a giant sphere that extends in all directions as far as we can imagine.

When God starts to create the earth and the stars, the galaxy and the universe and everything that is, God constricts a little bit to make room for the Universe. God squeezes in and a hole opens up right in the middle of God-and that’s where we are now, on planet Earth, in the Milky Way galaxy, part of the Universe, part of Creation, and all of it right in the middle of, surrounded by Divine Mystery that stretches out in all directions.

Now that there’s room for creation, God fills some vessels, some containers, with Divine Light. This Divine Light is Divine Essence, it’s God Stuff. And God sends the vessels to creation, and everything is going to be perfect-but then something goes wrong. The vessels cannot contain the Divine Light. They shatter, sending sparks of Divine Essence everywhere, all around the world-they are in rocks and streams; in plants and trees; in every kind of animal, from bees to elephants-little, lost shards of Divine Light. This is not at all what God had wanted.

So God creates people to help lift up the Divine sparks that are still scattered everywhere, to piece the broken shards back together, to be partners with God in a continuing process of creation.

Sermon

Good morning! Thank you for having me here today; I am happy to be with you. Some of you might know that I have a background in Unitarian Universalism, having served for five years as a Director of Religious Education at two different congregations-for the last two years of that time, at your neighbor church to the north, Live Oak UU. Sometimes, spiritual paths can take unexpected turns… and so it was that a few years ago, I found myself studying to become a UU minister at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary and having a profound religious experience in the Jewish tradition. Now I’m joyfully Jewish, and finishing up a Master’s in Theological Studies at the seminary. My religious journey is really not our focus this morning, but I wanted to let you know a little bit about where I’m coming from.

It is my privilege to be the Coordinator of Texas Interfaith Power & Light, the environmental program of The Texas Interfaith Center for Public Policy. The Texas Interfaith Center is a 39-year old, statewide, interfaith organization that offers people of faith the information, tools, and resources they need to effectively engage on public policy issues. In my work, I focus on environmental issues, and in that capacity, it has been my great pleasure to work with several of you!

The Bullas and the Halpins have been especially involved in recent efforts through our local affiliate, the Interfaith Environmental Network of Austin, and your own Rev. Barnhouse helped lead our interfaith worship service last fall just outside the LBJ Library, on the morning of the State Department’s public hearing on the Keystone XL pipeline. That was some mighty faithful witness. I know that this church community strives to put its values into action-for that, I am thankful. Please, keep it up!

As part of my work, I visit with folks in congregations around the state about caring for the environment. In my conversations about these issues, I am almost always asked some variation of this question: “Where do we find hope?” This question emerges in a context of looking honestly at some of the environmental-and related human-challenges facing us today. It comes from religious people of different faith traditions who care deeply about the world we share and the life in it, and who know enough of the facts to feel some amount of despair.

The way I see it, anyone working on environmental issues today-or any other social justice issues, as far as I can tell-must wrestle with this question of hope and purpose. And if people are unable to find a meaningful answer, they won’t be able to stay engaged for very long. People burn out, give up, shut off some piece of their hearts… It is so much easier to go shopping, turn on the TV, drink a beer-that’s what all the ads tell us to do, anyway. There are those, too, who carry around a dark cynicism and a story about how, once upon a time, they cared and tried to make a difference-and then they figured out the hard way that none of it really matters, and so now they don’t even try anymore. I’ve met some of these people. Maybe you have, too. Without some kind of deep wellspring, the struggle of facing the world’s troubles is too frequently, too much.

I want you to know that the sermon I had planned to give this morning is not quite the sermon you’re getting. Within the last few days, I’ve read two recent essays about global warming that directly get at this question of hope-and I feel like we need to address them today, so that’s what we’re going to do. Before we go any further, let me issue a couple of disclaimers: first, these thoughts are my own, and may not reflect the opinions of The Texas Interfaith Center; second, because I know that language can be a barrier to understanding, I’m going to use the word, “God” to mean that Source of Life in the universe that is called by many names-and I’ll trust you to translate the word, “God” and maybe even “Christ” into language that makes understanding and connection possible for you. Thank you.

The first article that’s on my mind is Bill McKibben’s latest in Rolling Stone magazine, on the subject of global warming. In his piece, he talks frankly about the numbers of global warming-about “acceptable” temperature increases, and the fact that the world’s economic and business systems are moving forward with operations that will put us way over and above those so-called, “acceptable” limits. He also notes that, so far, governmental systems have been unable or unwilling to make agreements or change policies in order to seriously address the very real threat of an ever-more-quickly, warming world. The article paints a pretty bleak picture-and whether you agree with McKibben or not, it’s worth reading.

The second article I’m thinking about also paints a pretty bleak picture of the road ahead, based on the science of global warming. And this is the article I’m going to most directly work with today. It’s actually a sermon that UT professor, Robert Jensen, delivered a couple of Sundays ago at St. Andrews Presbyterian Church-another neighbor of yours to the north-and that was published later on AlterNet. The title of the sermon is, “Hope Is for the Lazy: The Challenge of a Dead World.” Even if you haven’t read it, I think you get some idea of the content just from the title.

In the piece, Jensen argues that the systems of our world-“patriarchy, capitalism, nationalism, white supremacy, and the industrial model”-are dead, and cannot be reformed or revived. He says, “The death-worship at the heart of those ideologies is exhausting us and the world, and the systems are running down.” Noting that the task of creating new systems to replace the old is a monumental one in which “the odds are against us,” he writes, “What we need is not naive hope but whatever it is that lies beyond naivete, beyond hope.” What this “hope beyond hope” is, he doesn’t exactly say. He does say that we won’t win by “praying for deliverance by the hand of God,” or by putting all our hope in science and technology. And he’s right about that-we can’t just sit around waiting for God to intervene and stop global warming, and we can’t rest easy thinking that technological advances will make it possible for us to maintain our environmentally-unsustainable lifestyles. No. It’s not that easy. The way we’re living right now is not sustainable-we will have to make very real changes in order to address the environmental problems we’ve created. Jensen says that the world defined by those capitalist, industrial, consumer systems cannot be saved.

What we need is something different. He says, “There is always hope, but it is hope that lies beyond these systems, beyond the world as it is structured today. To be truly hopeful is to speak about a different world structured by different systems.”

Okay, Dr. Jensen. Let’s talk about that.

The story that we heard this morning about broken vessels and scattered shards is one way that the Jewish tradition approaches the contrast that we humans feel between things as they are and things as we think they should be. We’ll come back to this story again in a bit. Another way that the Jewish tradition approaches this contrast is by talking about the olam ha’ze and the olam ha’ba-this world and the world to come. There is some question as to whether these worlds should be understood literally or figuratively, tangibly or mystically-and probably there is no one “right” answer. Some people hold onto the promise of a real, idealized, transformed physical world to come-while others say that the world to come is really just every next moment-a moment of infinite possibility.

In considering these contrasts in our world-the contrast between where we’re at right now and where we’d like to be-the question becomes: How can we bridge the gap? How can we move the world closer to these visions of how we’d like it to be? And: is that even possible, or is working for peace, justice, and an environmentally-sustainable world really just a big, Pollyanna fantasy of “lazy hope” and a waste of everyone’s time?

Dr. Jensen, in his sermon, said, “We shouldn’t distract ourselves by looking to someplace up there, somewhere above or beyond, something that we pray is just around the corner.” In one sense, I get what he’s saying-again, that we can’t expect some kind of Divine Intervention to save us from our troubles. But I don’t think we should too casually dismiss the power of prayer and prophetic religious vision-because actually, I think we need those things to help transform this world.

Let’s talk about prayer for a bit. Prayer can take many forms, but the basic idea is that through prayer a channel is opened between you and God. One time a reporter asked Mother Theresa about prayer. “What do you say when you pray?” he asked. “I listen,” she said. The reporter paused a moment, then asked, “Then what does God say?” and she replied, “He listens.”

In addition to regular prayer, Jewish tradition has a rich practice of saying blessings. Ideally, we say 100 blessings each day. The basic idea is that for most of our regular, daily actions-including eating and drinking-and also, seeing beautiful trees or animals, smelling fragrant herbs, or studying Torah-we should give thanks to God. These prayers and blessings are a frequent acknowledgement and reminder that life is a gift for which we are grateful. But they do something else, too-often, our prayers and sometimes, our blessings, make radical claims about God’s action in the world.

Let’s consider maybe the most common blessing-the blessing over food. It says, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” But the bread that graces our tables doesn’t come that easily, just springing forth, fully-formed, from the ground. We’re not eating manna that just falls from the sky, after all. So what’s going on here?

Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman explains that this blessing is “a statement of faith in a time to come when all will have enough to eat,” free of hard labor. In this way, the blessing connects our present reality to one that is promised and hoped for. The blessings bring a heightened awareness and gratitude for the present moment into our everyday lives, which I love… At the same time, they keep that visioned world fresh before us as an imagined possibility.

Let’s think for a moment about what effect this continual invoking of God’s majesty and of the world to come might have. I wonder if, by praying and saying blessings, we are participating in calling that reality-the reality of the world to come, the world as God wants things to be-into this one.

“Inbreaking” is a word used by some theologians to describe the effect that this focusing on, calling forth, and visioning the world to come has on our world, and it’s a good word, inbreaking-I like this word. Our prayers and blessings are a way that we can invite God and the world to come to break in to our lives and our world, to break in and begin to transform us here and now, in the world as it is. Jurgen Moltmann is a Christian theologian who writes about this transformative potential; he says, “Those who hope in Christ [and again, we can substitute other words-God, the Divine, etc.]…

“Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it. Peace with God,” he says, “means conflict with the world, for the… promised future stabs… into the flesh of every unfulfilled present.” That last bit about the future stabbing into the present is inbreaking. And what Moltmann suggests here is that when we hold fast to God and to visions of the world as it could or should be, then we more keenly see that our experienced reality is out of alignment with God’s intent and hope-and we become change agents. As Rabbi Arthur Green says, “There is nothing mere about poetic vision.”

In the story that we heard this morning, God had one idea of how the world would be-but something went wrong. The vessels broke, and divine essency-stuff scattered everywhere. We could consider that and say, “Oh well, this is a broken world-and nothing I could do is going to fix it.” But according to the story, God created humans to participate in the work of mending. That mending, I’d like to suggest, is not about repairing the world and its systems as it is now-rather, this is a deep, transformative, creative-in the sense of creating things-kind of mending. We are to bring into the world a little holiness, to lift up divine sparks, to bring our lives and the world closer to God’s vision of how things are supposed to be.

Whether we achieve all the things we’re working for in the world is not the point. I can tell you from personal experience that freeing yourself from a goal-orientation can be very helpful in sustaining environmental and justice work. What matters isn’t whether we “win.” What matters is whether we are faithful in thought, word, and deed to our highest visions-or, if you’re comfortable with such language, whether we are faithful to God. I completely agree with Dr. Jensen when he said, “We don’t become fully human through winning. We embrace our humanity by acting out of our deepest moral principles to care for each other and care for the larger living world, even if failure is likely, even if failure is inevitable.” See, what really matters is that we’re faithful. And being faithful, in this time-as we face very real climate crisis-means taking action, and not giving into immobilizing despair.

And here, I think, Jensen has another interesting point. In his sermon, he said, “The balancing of [grief and joy] is the beginning of a hope beyond hope, the willingness not only to embrace that danger but to find joy in it.” Those of us who deeply care about the world experience grief, yes, in seeing things as they really are.

But where do we find the joy? The joy that, Jensen says, in balance with grief, can move us toward a “hope beyond hope”? Let’s hold that question for a minute. We’re almost there.

Karl Barth, a Presbyterian theologian of the 20th century, wrote, “To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.” Let me say that again: “To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.”

When we pray and say blessings; when we invoke God’s presence into our daily, imperfect lives and this broken, hurting world; when we hold before us a vision of how things could and should be-this is the first step in making real change possible. Even though the climate science is grim, and the way forward unclear and perhaps bleak… Even though it looks like the world might just be going to hell-we must hold onto the real and transformative power of prayer and story, and the deep-I don’t want to say “hope”… the deep faith that comes with aligning ourselves with another vision of how the world should be. If all we do is focus on the trauma and despair of this world, then we will be consumed by it, I promise you.

Let us, instead, call future, imagined, visioned possibilities of another world-a world to come, or maybe, a “world structured by different systems,” as Jensen put it-let us call that world into this one-and let us do so as we act to care for people and the planet. When we bring our actions into alignment with God’s intent and hope for us and for the world, then-pow!-that is transformation; that is revolution; that is an uprising against the disorder of the world. Also, that is faithfulness, that is wholeness, that is joy. Living and acting in accord with our highest visions is the joy that leads to a hope beyond hope-a joy that will sustain us as we continue the work of mending, even in the midst of brokenness. As poet Wendell Berry said, “Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.”

May it be so for us and for this world, amen.

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Rev. Kathleen Ellis

July, 15, 2012

Rev. Ellis is a Unitarian Universalist minister, ordained in 1993, who has served several congregations in the Southwest and Southeast Districts. She served as treasurer of the UU Ministers Association, ministerial settlement representative for the Southwest, and most recently minister of Congregational Life at Live Oak UU Church in northwest Austin for eight years. She is now Good Offices person for the Southwest. (Good Officers advise and advocate for colleagues who experience difficulties in their ministries.)

As Bollywood brings glimpses of India into our consciousness, the overall impression is that India is complex on multiple levels. Beauty competes with squalor; spirituality competes with greed; generosity competes with corruption; elders, children and homeless people compete for scraps of welfare. Compare it all with the United States: We’re not all that different, but issues become invisible for the most part unless we have some philosophical discussion about it. Nourish souls, transform lives, and do justice?

On sabbatical last year she traveled to India on a three-week spiritual pilgrimage. Kathleen’s husband Jon Montgomery is a member of First UU.

Sermon:

When I picked up Anne Lamott’s book Some Assembly Required, I thought, “How nice, a memoir about a mother who reflects on motherhood through the eyes of her son and infant grandson. My sister had sent it to me for my birthday although I am not (yet) a grandmother. The story was engaging. It brought back a lot of wonderful memories of raising two baby boys.

What I didn’t expect was for the author to take me with her on a two-week trip to India that brought back additional wonderful memories of my own trip to India almost 18 months ago. The journey for both of us was a cultural immersion into the complexity of India; it was a spiritual experience beyond easy description or understanding.

Take a dive with me into that spirituality. [Symbols on trucks and tuk tuks; puja; experience at Chidambaram; symbology of the Ganges, at least equivalent to the sacred Mt. Fujisan and more than our own Statue of Liberty]

The depth of spirituality in India coexists with an earthiness that middle class Westerners seldom witness. In India, spirituality competes with greed; beauty competes with squalor; generosity competes with corruption; elders, children, and homeless people of all ages compete for scraps of welfare. In the U.S. those of us in the middle class or above seldom have to see this level of complexity, but it’s here. Mostly it’s hidden on the other side of the tracks or the other side of Interstate 35; sometimes it creeps onto our street corners in the form of panhandlers-our kind of beggars. In India there’s just a lot more of it in plain sight-not just one panhandler, but a crowd of them at every turn.

My colleague the Rev. Leonora Montgomery once said that everyone ought to travel to India at least once. I now pass that advice on to you IF you are comfortable with the unexpected. How many of you have been there?

Even without a trip to India you may have seen India in the movies in recent years, including the widely known Slumdog Millionaire in 2008 and Best Exotic Marigold Hotel this year. Actor Dev Patel stars in both of them. He welcomes a group of British retirees to his dilapidated potential of a hotel. In trying to make a go of the family business he thought he could attract elders to India. He tells his mother, “other countries don’t like old people either.” He figures he can “outsource old age” by bringing old people, unwanted in their own country, to live in India. He’ll start with the English and expand from there.

His promotion worked, though perhaps a “little bit” before the hotel was quite ready. When someone complained he told her, “We have a saying in India: “Everything will be all right in the end. So if it is not all right, it is not yet the end.” There’s nothing like a sense of optimism when things go wrong.

Each of the tourists had a different set of expectations and as a result, very different experiences. One man who was enthralled with India tried to explain his attraction to his complaining wife. He loved “the light, the color, the smiles.” A trip to India is about what you bring to it and yet, it is best if you leave all expectations behind. In the movie, of course, Sonny the hotel manager was right: Everything was all right in the end.

Four years ago, actor Dev Patel had already played the lead in Slumdog Millionaire. Time and again he explains an unexpected outcome with another saying: “It is written.” We can’t be sure that everything will be all right in the end, and we can’t stop trying, but “It is written” conveys to me a sense of fatalism rather than optimism.

We learned over and over that it was inevitable that his character Jamal would eventually rescue and marry the character Latika, played by Freida Pinto. Each of them was also portrayed by a child actor, because it begins in the slum in which they live. Jamal was winning a televised competition in an Indian equivalent of “Who wants to be a millionaire?” He was suspected of cheating, and between games he was tortured to make him talk. However, Jamal’s life experiences had given him most of the answers. Everyone except the show’s sponsors were thrilled with his winnings of $100 million rupees. It was written. By God, by Allah, by Fate? Take your pick!

But why stop with a predictable trinity? Was it written by Moira, Yaweh, Wotan? Phan Ku, Ra, or Zeus? The list surely goes on and on.

Jamal’s back story touches on many of the rougher aspects of India, starting with homeless orphans who live in the landfills. Unscrupulous scavengers of children entice or kidnap dozens of these street kids to give them a place to stay then turn them into beggars or slaves, prostitutes or classical dancers. One source estimated the number at 300,000 child beggars in a population of 1.2 billion people overall. In the begging industry, the children do not get the money, but have to turn it over to the gangsters or maybe their own parents if they have them.

I wanted to know more than Bollywood could tell me, so I turned to Shashi Tharoor, an Indian-American who writes with wit and depth with a critical eye through a prism of love for India and pride in his heritage.

Tharoor observes that India is not a welfare state. The government does not provide much help to the teeming multitudes who live in poverty. But India is a welfare society based primarily on family units. People help each other out-a place to live until they find a job-based on family ties, affiliation to informal castes, or connection to the village or neighborhood. Outside those circles little attention is paid.

Therefore, you will see nice apartments inside buildings that are dirty and unkempt. Tharoor remembers that his mother asked her servant-sweeper to sweep the apartment stairs for extra pay and the woman was incredulous. “Why, Madam, when they are not your stairs?” she replied. The attitude helps explain why you will see beautifully kept homes that are accessible only through filthy public spaces. Personal hygiene exists alongside indifference for public sanitation; sewage systems reek and overflow; and pollution generates staggering levels of respiratory illness.

Even in isolated areas that are environmentally conscious, regulations are routinely ignored. After all, unemployment is a greater political liability than lung cancer. Do you see some irony here? That basic argument-job creation vs. health care–will constitute our own political discourse even beyond the next election. The rationale is different but the effect is similar. In Austin, we have social services, but the recipients are mostly out of sight.

Let me hasten to say that the Indian government is trying to meet the needs; activists and charities are trying to fill the gaps; but sheer numbers overwhelm every system. India has the world’s second largest population, after China. Population growth over the past 25 years has increased more than the entire U.S. population today. Deforestation has degraded land and reduced its agricultural capacity. How, then, might anyone provide enough food, clean water and air, health care, and education, not to mention housing?

No wonder beggars swarm the streets. One billion dollars is spent every year on population control. The most popular form is sterilization. But by the time this option is chosen, people are in their 30s and have already produced more children than is good for them or the country. Kids who survive to grow up are not only a source of labor for the family, but also provide social security for their elders.

Hundreds of charities and activist organizations, both Indian and foreign, labor to save the children and the sick. One local example is The Miracle Foundation that was founded on Mother’s Day just 12 years ago by Austinite Caroline Boudreaux. She couldn’t stand the poverty she had witnessed among Indian orphans and came home to launch The Miracle Foundation, which is headquartered down on 6th Street near West Lynn.

The website says, “The Miracle Foundation is a vibrant and trusted non-profit organization that empowers orphans to reach their full potential-one child at a time.” They support five orphanages in rural areas across India and have transformed the lives of hundreds of children. Safety, nutritious food, and education work the miracles.

Of course they also take donations. “$75 is the cost to cover one child’s medical needs for a year, including all necessary vaccinations, annual medical check-ups, de-worming, and pharmaceutical sundries.” [I was a little put off by the reference to “de-worming,” but I do seem to remember that time one of my sons got pinworms and one brought home head lice. Not so foreign, after all.] Some Miracle volunteers go as Ambassadors to work in India for a week and their hearts melt.

In addition to social services, the Indian government is also trying to address population growth and health concerns through literacy and further education. As some of you might remember from my previous sermon here, millions of children have no school. A high school graduate began a school that we visited in the waste dump. She teaches Hindi, English, the local language, math, and writing to about 70 children 12 and under while her husband advocates for worker rights. The children are beautiful and smart. When the teacher calls on them they will stand up to sing or recite the response. Children did not wear shoes, but outside their huts, adult shoes were lined up beside the door or up on the low roofs. Take off your shoes before you go into your dirt hut.

If you go, be prepared for transformation. Not that you can just order up transformation on some menu, but everything under the sun is right there and in your space. “The light, the colors, the smiles . . .” The spirit of a fiercely spiritual people who live close to the earth. . . .

Yesterday I went to the Miracle Foundation to meet its founder Caroline Boudreaux. Over a cup of coffee I asked about her personal journey. A dozen years ago she and a friend took a trip around the world. One of their stops was in India to meet the friend’s sponsored child for whom she sent monthly support. Despite Caroline’s skepticism, the boy was not just a photograph sent to dozens of people in exchange for money. He was real and he lived in an orphanage.

It happened to be Mother’s Day in the U.S. and Caroline had called her mother to acknowledge their loving connection. At the orphanage she picked up a baby girl, who clung to her like Velcro and buried herself in her chest like babies will do. Caroline sang her a lullaby. She sang her to sleep on Mother’s Day, then went to the dorm to lay her in bed. The beds were all made of wood-no mattresses, no stuffed animals, just wood and easy to clean. Caroline could feel the bones of this baby meet the bones of the wood and was transformed. She knew her calling was to make a difference in these young lives. That’s the birth story of The Miracle Foundation.

Caroline reflected on Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. You know the pyramid, built on a broad base of safety, water, food, clothing, and shelter-the things everyone needs. At the top of the pyramid are justice and ethics and self-actualization. But she said the top of the pyramid has to bend down to touch the bottom. Not just touch, but reach down and lift. . . .

Are we not all children of God? The ones who can make a difference to one another? Here in this space, week after week, you remind yourselves to “nourish souls, transform lives, and do justice.” I invite you to consider the broadest interpretation: nourish souls, but also bodies and minds; transform lives-your own AND someone else’s; do justice-at home AND somewhere that tugs at your heart. Then your life will overflow.

Namaste

Amen

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Tom Spencer

CEO of Interfaith Action of Central Texas

June 24, 2012

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

The Narrow Gate: Passageways to the Ordinarily Sacred

A reflection on the transformative power of paying attention to the everyday occurrences of our lives.

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Rev. George “Kim” Beach

May 27, 2012

Rev. Meg Barnhouse and Barbara Stoddard lead the Flower Communion litany. By bringing and exchanging flowers in this service, participants are part of a particularly Unitarian service created by Rev. Norbert Capek, who believed that each of us is like a flower which is beautiful in its own way. When we gather as a church, we are a festive bouquet of people.

The communion we celebrate has taken place all over the world in Unitarian and UU churches since 1923. Norbert Capek started this ritual to celebrate the worth, value and beauty of all people and celebrate the community of faith. In celebrating the worth of all shapes, sizes, families and colors, Capek saw hope for humanity. He would later die at the hands of the Nazis because this belief was so different from theirs. We remember him and his principles and dreams.

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