Family Life as a Spiritual Path

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
November 22, 2015

Can we gain more understanding of our place within our family? Why are we the way we are? How can we love those around us more capably?


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.

 

The ugly duckling

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
November 8, 2015

Another in the fairy tale sermon series, why do we sometimes feel that we don’t belong, that we don’t fit? What are the blessings and curses of being different from those around us?


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

 

At the threshold

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
November 1, 2015

What is it like being at the end of one’s life? What do people think and write about? On this All Saints Day, we’ll say the names of loved ones we have lost.


Call To Worship

Our call to worship today is an adaptation of a poem by Birago Ismael Diop, a Senegalese veterinarian, diplomat, poet, and storyteller whose work revived interest in African folktales. He died in 1989, and many of you will recognize his words in the song “Breaths” by the African American women’s singing group Sweet Honey in the Rock.

Listen more often to things than to beings,
Listen more closely to things than to beings.
‘Tis the Ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard,
‘Tis the Ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.
Those who have died have never, never left.
The dead are not under the earth.
They are in the rustling trees, they are in the groaning woods,
They are in the crying grass, they are in the moaning rocks.
The dead are not under the earth.
Those who have died have never, never left.
The dead have a pact with the living.
They are in the woman’s breast, they are in the wailing child.
They are with us in our homes, they are with us in this crowd.
The dead have a pact with the living.
The dead are not under the earth.

Reading

A Parable of Immortality by Henry Van Dyke

This is a poem by Henry Van Dyke, an American author, statesman, Presbyterian clergyman, and professor of English literature at Princeton University until his death in 1933.

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
“There she goes!”

Gone where?

Gone from my sight … that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
there are other eyes watching her coming …
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout …

“Here she comes!”

Sermon

I was at the bedside of a man in my congregation. He was dying. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said. He had been a professor, a scientist. He’d been mean to his wife, mean to his grown kids, mean to the people in the congregation. I was surprised at the openness of this moment.

“I don’t either,” I said. “I’ve sat by a lot of people while they were dying. It looks like you just go farther and farther away, and your body shuts itself down. Maybe it’s like falling asleep. You’ve done that plenty of times, right?” He was fighting, kicking at death like he had kicked at life. One thing I’ve noticed over my thirty-five years of being a minister is that people seem to die the way they live. Some want to be no trouble, they slip away when no one’s looking. Some want to be surrounded by family and friends, some want to be sung to, read to. One man who was well loved in the congregation died in the hospital, and his nurse that night happened also to be a member, and his wife was there. She held one hand, Greg, the nurse, held the other, and I held onto his feet as he breathed his last.

My mother died at home. She’d been sick for five years, and she’d asked to come home to die. We made a pallet by the couch where she lay. I slept there that night. Sometimes when she’d called out, I’d said “I’m here.” Once, she said, “Just a second, I’ll be right there,” as if she had a long way to come back to where we were watching with her. One gardener said he just hoped he wouldn’t outlast his legs. When his legs went, he was ready to go. He was 92, and he said he’d thought he would like to get to 95, but now that he was looking at it from a wheelchair, he didn’t care to get there so much any more. My great-grandfather, the preacher who had been at his church fifty-four years, who retired when he was 80 by saying, after the sermon, “no one should preach past their 80th birthday, so today I retire.” As the buzz in the congregation died down, he asked Brother Matthew to pray, and while everyone’s head was bowed for the prayer, he walked down the aisle of the church and out the front door. That was his last day of work. When he lay dying, his family kept watch on the porch. Through the open windows they heard him saying “Isaiah, I’m James Hearst Pressly, from Statesville, North Carolina. I’m pleased to meet you. Jeremiah, James Hearst Pressly, Statesville, North Carolina. Pleased to meet you.” Then he died.

The end of life is a threshold time, meaning that it is a time when things come up for review, when changes are made more easily. Families can reconcile or break apart. Often, emotionally wrenching decisions have been made. Atul Gawande, in his book “Being Mortal,” talks about people weighing treatment options. How much pain are you willing to endure to add two months more of life? Medicine can prolong technical life for so long – what measures do you want them to take? How do you decide? How much does being at home matter to you? Who do you want to talk to? Do you have any regrets you want to take care of, if you can?

Some people’s thoughts have been mostly of the people they were leaving behind. They worried about how they’d get along. Some people get right to the point of dying and they haven’t made any plans, any arrangements. Everyone’s been talking to them about “fighting,” and no one has just gone on and asked what they would like to have happen at the end. That’s sometimes the minister’s job. “What do you want for your memorial service?” You might ask. It’s good to give it some thought, that way you get to pick readings that say something about you, songs you like. No one who is crazed with grief has to figure all of that out.

I’m asking you to think about these things. Talk about them with your family before you get sick. Take care of your relationships so you won’t have any regrets that could have been fixed. Practice accepting help so you will be graceful to your caregivers, rather than surly. When you’re angry at having to be helped, your helpers have a double job of helping you and reassuring you, or helping you and enduring your surliness. What questions do you want to ask your medical team? How can you communicate to them what things are important to you? Think about that now. They will want to extend your life. What do you enjoy in your life? What do you want to hold on to? Write them down and stick them in your freezer, or email them to me. I have a file I’m keeping of people’s wants and wishes for their memorial services. I have a form you can fill out if you’d like, that I can send to you. Me, I want the song Skylark at the beginning of my service. It’s a sad song, and it’s going to be a sad time. At the end, “Blue Skies.” And I want people to cry. Dying is scary, but we are brave, and we can talk about it together.


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.

 

Dialogue with Conservatives

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 18, 2015

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


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

Hard Wired

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

Moral Code

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

Steps to Change

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

Listening to Drag

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 11, 2015

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

Oh, Delilah!

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
October 4, 2015

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


Children’s time:

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

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

Sermon notes:

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

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

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

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

We have to take you to them.

Promise you won’t kill me yourselves?

We promise.

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

Then he fell in love with Delilah.

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

Good Grief

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 27, 2015

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

All beginnings are difficult

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
September 13, 2015

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


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

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

Sermon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

Choose to enjoy your life

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 30, 2015

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

 

The first one to try

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 23, 2015

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


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

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

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

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

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

Sermon: The First One to Try

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

– Boston Globe, December 28, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

 

Which God don’t you believe in?

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
August 16, 2015

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


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

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

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

 

Father Sky, Mother Earth

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
June 21, 2015

In honor of Father’s Day, we’ll talk about this Sun holiday, the Summer Solstice. What is celebrated on this day? How does it relate to fatherhood and the balance of male and female in everything?


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.

 

Juneteenth

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
June 14,  2015

We observe the 150th anniversary of Juneteenth. The Emancipation Proclamation of 1863 was not enforced in Texas until two years after it was made. Many enslaved men and women hadn’t heard that the government had declared them free. Juneteenth is the celebration of that good news.


I long to know what the US would be like if it had never been legal to capture, import and own other people. Agriculture would have developed differently. The distribution of wealth amongst us would be different. Most of us carry the psychological scars of it. I grew up for a time, during the early 1960’s, in North Carolina. I was taught about the institution of slavery. “Most people were kind to their slaves,” they said. “After emancipation, many slaves chose to stay with their masters. They didn’t want to leave them.” “Lincoln freed the slaves with the Emancipation Proclamation.” I always pictured this proclamation being read aloud and great rejoicing going up from the people. Joyous Black faces and emotional White faces of people saying “So long, it’s been great having you.” I didn’t really think about it that much. I had the privilege of not thinking about slavery much.

I remember the first time I heard the phrased “enslaved men and women.” It woke something up in me. Instead of calling people “slaves,” as if this were the kind of human they were, a category, easily made into an abstraction, these were women and men who had been enslaved. I supposed what it says is that I’m not “a slave” now, but the process of being enslaved would make me one. That is what happened to the men and women in that time. They were enslaved. I don’t like to say the word “slaves” any more. It doesn’t tell the story. Juneteenth celebrations in Austin are next Saturday. A parade, a gathering in the park, beauty contests and barbeque. Regular Texans celebrating. It’s a holiday here and in OK. Other states have Juneteenth celebrations too, but it’s not a holiday there.

The celebrations commemorate the beginning of the enforcement of the Emancipation Proclamation in Texas. See, the EP didn’t free that many people. Lincoln wanted to free the enslaved men and women gradually, granting financial compensation to the people who had been allowed to think of them as property. The EP was punitive in nature. After the Battle of Antietam, in MD, in Sept. of 1862, where 22,717 young men slaughtered one another in a corn field, Lincoln wrote in his proclamation that, as of Jan 1 of 1863, all enslaved men and women in states still in rebellion against the Union would be freed. Not those enslaved in Union states. Not if any Confederate states repented and rejoined the Union. Needless to say, no one in the rebellious states recognized the authority of Lincoln’s proclamation, so life continued as usual, only with war added, for the enslaved men and women of the South.

The war ended, I always thought, with Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in April 1865. Not really. He surrendered his armies, but there were other Confederate armies still fighting in the West. The spread of slavery across the Mississippi had been resisted. Kansas was in turmoil when about ready to join the US in the 1850’s (ten years before Appaomattox), as “free soil” folks skirmished with pro slavery forces that thought people should be able to bring “their property” with them when they came to farm. Non slave owners weren’t so much horrified, it seems, by the moral cesspool of slavery, as horrified that others would buy up all the good land and work it with people they’d already paid for, so didn’t have to pay. Horace Greeley of the NYTimes, (son of Horace Greeley, the first President of the American Unitarian Association, coined the phrase “Bleeding Kansas.” John Brown, who believed that armed raids were the way to overthrow slavery, was funded and armed by northern abolitionists, among them Ralph Waldo Emerson and his friends. I’m not sure how they felt when the arms they had bought were used by John Brown’s followers to kill five members of a pro slavery farming family in Kansas.

After Lee’s surrender, Union troops supported the enslaved families as they began living in freedom. There were few Union troops in the west, though. Texas had sent 70,000 troops to the war. Kirby Smith surrendered on May 26 (officially signed June 2). The last battle of the American Civil War was the Battle of Palmito Ranch in Texas on May 12 and 13. The last significant Confederate active force to surrender was the Confederate allied Cherokee Brigadier General Stand Watie and his Indian soldiers on June 23. You remember that the Cherokee and other First Nations were slaveholders.

So it wasn’t as if the enslaved people in Texas labored ignorant of the freedom of all others, for two years. No one was free until Appomattox. When General Granger and his 2,000 men sailed into Galveston, the war was still in its last gasps. General Granger began Order No. 3 with the following statement informing slaves of their new status as freed Americans: “The people of Texas are informed that in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and free laborer.” Federal troops did not arrive in Texas to restore order until June 19, 1865, when Union Maj. Gen. Gordon Granger and 2,000 Union soldiers arrived on Galveston Island to take possession of the state and enforce the new freedoms of former slaves. The Texas holiday Juneteenth commemorates this date. The Stars and Stripes were not raised over Austin until June 25.

We celebrate the freedom of those who were enslaved and were freed. No one helped them. Some freed folks were given land formerly held by plantation owners, but Pres. Andrew Jackson gave that back to the plantation owners after a few years.

It’s land that is the basis of wealth. When there are laws against Black folks owning land, their families, for generations, will not be able to prosper. White settlers were given land, and, with it, the chance to make some wealth. Not all were able to do that, but many were. White folks were able to buy houses wherever they wanted to and it is only recently that Black homeowners have been able to buy in the suburbs.

The brave of old, given a sudden gift of freedom, were sometimes able to make good choices and strike good luck, even though most were not helped, and were, in fact, opposed at every turn by separate but equal schools with old text books and holes in the roof, by Jim Crow laws denying them access to the culture, by racist violence to keep them in their places. My friends, we all know that this is still going on. Let us be the ones to offer help. Let us be the ones who stand against this systematic burdening of the poor and people of color in our midst. It is time for things to be fair.


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

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

 

The boy who drew cats

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
June 7, 2015

Rev. Meg continues her fairy tale sermon series with a classic Japanese story, “The Boy Who Drew Cats.” How can we know what will make a difference? How do we know which efforts are large and which are small? How are the things which bring you joy used for the good of the whole?


Call to Worship
by Howard Thurman

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Reading
A Letter to Agnes DeMille from Martha Graham

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.
If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
of the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others.

Sermon

In the story of the boy who drew cats, he was pushed out of conventional places because of his difference, his passion. “You don’t fit here at the farm,” his family said. “Let’s take you to study with the monks.” It didn’t work out with the monks either. He didn’t want to study religion. He wanted to draw cats. He drew them in the margins of the scrolls from which they were supposed to be reading. He drew them in the dust while they were chanting. Eventually he had to leave, because he just didn’t fit there. The last piece of advice the monk gave him was to avoid large places, stick to small ones.

Maybe you have had the experience of being different from the people around you, of not fitting in. Some families, churches, towns, countries, have ways of pushing away the people who don’t fit. Somehow the enforcers of the system, from the church ladies who give you the stink eye when you don’t dress properly to kids who beat up other kids who seem weird to them to government death squads, all along the spectrum of enforcement, you can almost always tell when you don’t fit in a place, when everyone would be a lot more comfortable if you left. I hope none of you has ever felt that, but it’s a vain hope. Most of you have felt it ,at one time or another. It’s often a mistake to toss out the different ones, though. When everyone is too much the same, new ideas don’t happen and the society stagnates. Assumptions remain unchallenged. The potato famine happened because people were planting one type of potato, and it was susceptible to the blight that killed nearly the whole crop. It’s smarter to plan lots of different kinds of grain, potatoes, apples, etc. so if some get a disease, you don’t lose them all. Nature is nature, and humans aren’t the exception. In small native tribes the grandmothers keep track of who is related to whom, to keep people who are too closely related from marrying. First born kids are more likely to achieve highly in our culture. Out of the first 23 astronauts, 21 were first born. Second borns are more creative, with less horror of making mistakes. If you look at the biographies of great inventors, you’ll find most of them were second, third, seventh children. A culture needs the creative people. Austin’s creative class is what makes it so attractive, yet all of the musicians who give Austin its soul are no longer able to afford to live here, according to a new survey. Cherishing diversity is smart, but it’s hard for a culture that’s based on power and money.

The boy in our story is small, and he has an all-consuming passion. Most of us know someone who had a passion for playing the guitar, or for writing, or the piano or for dancing or painting, and they are drawn to doing it whether it’s a good time or not, whether people approve of the activity or not, whether they get paid well for it or not. Some of us are lucky enough to have a passion for something we can make a living doing, something people enjoy and approve of. That’s lovely. Most of us, even if it’s not all-consuming, have something we do that makes us come alive. Theologian Howard Thurman said, as you heard in our Call to Worship: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

The boy is too ashamed that his difference, his passion, as gotten him tossed out of the second place, and he doesn’t want to go home. He takes to the road, and wanders closer and closer to the epicenter of the Goblin Rat King’s domain.

The Goblin Rat King is a destructive force, haunting the countryside, wreaking havoc and destruction, taking whatever it wants, spreading terror. We have forces like this in our world. He is an inner reality and an outer one. Most of us have a big fear inside, a Goblin Rat King, a big fear, or a terrible memory, a bad decision we made in the past, that keeps us trembling and limited. There are terrible Rat Kings out in the world. Sometimes it’s us, trying to spread our system of government or make things good for the shareholders of our corporations. Sometimes it’s a terror group, calling themselves a religious purge or freedom fighters. Almost everyone who spreads terror thinks they are doing it for the good of the whole. Make society safe for the “nice” people, making life hard for the “bad” people.

Often, though, the “nice” people are the rich people and the bad people are the poor folks, queer folks, mouthy folks always yapping about their rights, acting like they should have access to education, to health care, to food and clean water.

We try to separate the “nice” from the “bad” parts of ourselves as well, and we can be brutal in our inner enforcements. Our whole culture is based on overpowering, overcoming, controlling through will, through might, through force. We want to change the world, and we make great efforts. I even hear people changing Theodore Parker’s great saying about the arc of the universe bending toward justice. They say “we’ll bend that arc of the universe!”

In the Eastern tradition which is the context for this story, one good way of doing is by not-doing. The Tao Te Ching says when you’re grilling a fish and you poke it too much, you ruin it. When you rule a country and you interfere too much, try to control too much, you mess things up. Maybe you can just do what you do, be who you are, and the cats you drew will take care of the big bad obstacle while you’re asleep, curled up into a small space. You don’t have to arrive on the scene like the Avengers (not that there’s anything wrong with the Avengers) and clean up the place with might, speed and power. Maybe you can do a lot of good with your art, with your passion, with just doing what you do and not trying to force anyone to do anything. Maybe outer and inner demons can be conquered by our doing what it is our passion to do: gardening, writing, helping, offering hospitality, cooking, building, conversation.

Recent events here at our church have me thinking hard. The church has been asked to step into the ancient tradition of offering sanctuary to a refugee. In this ancient tradition, no place but a church has the privilege of being a sanctuary. Tradition holds that soldiers will not come into a house of worship and drag someone out. Our government adheres to that tradition, so far. The woman to whom we have offered sanctuary was pushed out of her home country because of her passion for helping other LGBT folks. She has had a hard time finding a welcoming sanctuary because she identifies as “queer,” and her partner identifies as “trans.” I The UU church and our partners at St. Andrews Presbyterian are the two churches standing up for her. A person with a passion will find her way, like a seed haunted by the sun, finding its way past rocks and grit to break through to the surface. (- St. Exupery) A church with a passion for art and justice will find its way.

I’ve been thinking a lot about shelter since we volunteered to give sanctuary to our new friend, the LGBT activist seeking sanctuary from Guatemala. I hear the Stones song in my head, and I wonder what it means “War, children, it’s just a shot away.” The Civil War started with one shot, from a Citadel cadet at Ft. Sumter. World War One started with a shot, an anarchist, armed by a government official, got lucky and ended up close enough to Archduke Ferdinand’s carriage to shoot him and his beloved wife.

When things are unstable, out of balance, it only takes a small thing to tip everything over into chaos. Might it make sense, then, for enough small things to tip in back into balance? Love, children, it’s just a kiss away. The bards Mick Jagger and Keith Richards seem to think that a small thing can make a big difference.

The boy in our story had the experience of his art conquering the big mean rat hurting the whole countryside. He lived in that temple the rest of his days, becoming a great artist. May our passion, our difference, be the way Nature comes through us, uniquely, in order to heal itself. May we be open to letting our demons be conquered through art rather than by power.


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.

 

Goldilocks and Elijah

Rev. Meg Barnhouse
May 24, 2015

Next in our sermon series on fairy tales, Rev. Meg explores the story of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” What does this story say about sharing? Manners? Entitlement? Home invasion? How welcoming are we called to be? Are we Goldilocks or are we the bears? And what does all of this have to do with Elijah of the Old Testament?


I was raised by a father who trusted the government. I was a teenager when Watergate happened, and I remember him saying “The President would not do something like this without a good reason. You can bet he knows more than we do about secret things, and I’m sure his reason for doing this was related to something we’re just not in a position to know.” My mother did not trust the government. She had grown up in India, and told us that you had to leave gifts for the mail man or he would “lose” your mail. Talking to the police one afternoon, she asked them “how late are you open?”

“Lady, this is the police station,” they said. “We’re always open.” She loved studying the American Revolution, though. In ninth grade had a history teacher from Great Britain who told us the Boston Massacre was when scared 17 year old British boys got hurt by angry Colonials who put big rocks into snowballs and were lobbing them at the British boys. Who opened fire. My mother was hopping mad about that one. I think she called the school, even though she was a teacher and generally disapproved of parents complaining to the school about teachers.

My father’s three other siblings were politically more radical. My Aunt Ruth, the Episcopal priest who taught in Dallas at Perkins Seminary, refused to put her social security number on anything. Not at a doctor’s office, not on a loan application, never. She gave me dire warnings about doing it. The other sister, Aunt Dorothy, lived in Nicaragua for a while after the Sandinistas took power, working as a Spanish-German translator. My dad shook his head over both of them and said they had been duped by the Communists.

I had college professors who’d been duped by the Communists as well, and they taught us about how the US government had supported certain corporations playing Goldilocks in South and Central America. Once they started lining it out for us, it was hard not to see corruption everywhere. We were taught about the origin of the term “Banana Republic.” It’s a contemptuous term for a country where the government is a puppet dictatorship set up for the enrichment of the dictator and the companies for whom he works. The United Fruit Company was frequently accused of bribing government officials in Central and South America in exchange for their support of the giant banana plantations. They were accused of exploiting their workers, paying negligible taxes to the governments of those countries, and working ruthlessly to suppress land rights for the people who farmed the land of those countries.

Latin American journalists sometimes referred to the company as el pulpo (“the octopus”), and its exploitation of workers was used by the communist activists to illustrate the concept of capitalist imperialism. Senator, then Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, in the Eisenhower administration, was a stern anti-Communist. The more you learn, though, the more his motives seem cloudy/complex/corrupt. His law firm, Sullivan & Cromwell, negotiated the land giveaways to the United Fruit Company in Guatemala and Honduras. His brother, Allen Dulles also did legal work for UF and sat on its board of directors. Allen Dulles became the head of the CIA under Eisenhower. Both Dulles brothers were on the UF payroll for 38 years. Conflict of interest? Henry Cabot Lodge, who was US Ambassador to the UN, owned a big chunk of UF stock; Ed Whitman, the UF public relations man, was married to Ann Whitman, Eisenhower’s personal secretary.

Cohen, Rich (2012). The Fish that Ate the Whale. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux. p. 186.

The company claimed that they needed large tracts of extra land that they didn’t plan bananas on just in case of hurricanes or blight. Through close involvement with the government, they managed to keep the government from distributing land to farmers who wanted a share of the banana business. This creation or augmentation of government corruption, encouraging service to US interests, led to writer O. Henry coining the term “Banana Republic.” The United Fruit Company dominated regional transportation networks through its International Railways of Central America. UFCO branched out in 1913 by creating the Tropical Radio and Telegraph Company. They improved ports, built schools for people who worked for them. They discouraged the building of highways in order to support the railroads.

In 1954, the democratically elected Guatemalan government was toppled by U.S.-backed forces armed, trained and organized by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency. (see Operation PBSUCCESS).

UFCO (the only corporation at the time to have a CIA code name, was the largest Guatemalan landowner and employer, and the newly overthrown government’s land reform included the expropriation of 40% of UFCO land.

We don’t have time this morning to go over all of the instances in which our government has destabilized other countries, whether trying to do something good or making those places safe for US business interests.

The US has been Goldilocks in many bears’ homes, grabbing what we want, breaking things here and there, then bribing the bear governments to make it legal for Goldilocks to keep coming in and taking whatever she wants. We have not been very good guests. In looking after the interests of the shareholders of some corporations, we have destabilized the homes and homelands of many people around the world.

Goldilocks is the story of a bad guest, who takes and breaks and doesn’t observe boundaries.

Here is the story I’d like to pair with Goldilocks, the story of a great guest.

From The Folk Literature of the Kurdistani Jews: An Anthology. Yona Sabar. (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, ©1982), 153-54.
http://www.yale.edu/yup

Once upon a time there lived a husband and wife who were very poor and had nothing at all in their house. The wife, who was pregnant, gave birth to a son at ten o’clock at night, but she had nothing with which to wrap the tender babe. The poor father groaned and cried, “We have no clothes, not even some wool, to cover the babe, and he may die by morning.”

Suddenly a man appeared, stood at the entrance to the room, and said, “Peace be upon you! Do you have some straw to lend me? My wife has just given birth, and we have nothing to lay the child on. He may die of the cold.” The couple replied, “We are very poor, but we do have some straw. If you want it, please take it.”

The man took his cloak, (the Hebrew word is tallit, “prayer shawl” or “cloak”) filled it with straw, thanked the couple, and went off. As he stepped outside he threw the straw down next to the door, but the couple did not notice. After the stranger had left, the husband said to his wife, “Look how rich we are! There are people who do not have even straw, and we are rich compared with them.”

In the morning the husband got up, went outside, and found there many silver and gold dinars. He called his wife and said to her, “Look how much silver and gold we have behind the door!” They realized then that the man who came at night to ask for straw was none other than the prophet Elijah, of blessed memory, and that the straw had turned into silver and gold.

The husband went to the marketplace and bought the necessities for his home, and the rest of the money he hid away in a vessel, saying to his wife, “Let us flee from this town, for its people are wicked and jealous. If they learn that we have become rich, they will slay us.”

So they fled to a town where no one knew them, and there they asked, “Is it possible to build here a fine, good house?” A man replied, “I have such a fine, good house. If you like it, well and good; if not, do not buy it.”

The couple decided to buy the house. In the evening they went to look at it. As they walked through the rooms, they noticed a bulge in one of the walls. The wife touched it with her finger, and behold, the stone moved from its place and revealed an opening in the wall full of silver and gold. The husband said to his wife, “Look, God has granted us even more than before.”

The next day the couple were about to talk to the landlord, but he said to them, “I am the same man to whom you gave straw, and I changed it into gold. That gold was the good luck of your son. This house is your own good luck, and the bulge in the wall is your wife’s good luck. May you live in happiness and good fortune. please know that I, the prophet Elijah, am blessing you.” Having finished his statement, the prophet Elijah ascended in flight to heaven. We have been asked to provide sanctuary for a guest.

There is nothing like a genuine call to ministry to snap things back into focus. By now you will have heard that we have been offered the opportunity to take a Guatemalan LGGBT activist in and provide her with sanctuary until her deportation order is lifted. She is eligible for a U-Visa, since she has been helpful to police here in prosecuting a crime. Her lawyer missed a paperwork deadline, so she spent seven months in detention before her partner (also undocumented, and a trans-person) could raise the money for the required 15,000.00 bond.

She must appear for deportation by June 11. The police must document her help in order for her deportation order to be rescinded, but that might take as much as 90 days, after the Juke 11 deadline. I’m giving you my best interpretation of the story as I currently understand it, as of this writing.

The request for sanctuary was brought to us suddenly. The Board of Trustees had a rich and soul-searching discussion, the sense of which, at the end can be summed up quoting one Board member. “If we don’t do this, then what DO we do?”

As Presbyterian colleague, Jim Rigby said to me as we talked about this situation, it is hard to be prepared fully when the “prophetic moment” presents itself, the moment when you are asked to walk your talk. “Your church said ‘yes,’ and then figured out how to do it. That makes you a prophetic church. Other churches say ‘Let’s figure out how to do this’ before they say ‘yes.’ That makes them traditional churches.

Much more will be communicated, and a conversation will begin among us about whether we want to just do this once or become a Sanctuary Church like so many UU, Methodist, Presbyterian, Roman Catholic and Quaker congregations did during the ’80’s. Please research “The Sanctuary Movement,” if you’d like to know more. This is a well-educated, smart and delightful civil rights activist we have a chance to support. Although we surely are not of one mind about immigration issues, we can step up and protect this one new friend.


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