Life Passed Through the Fire of Thought

June 22, 2008

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

In January of this year I was astounded to hear that on this planet, a human language dies every fourteen days. The radio program I was listening to said that “by the end of this century, half of the world’s nearly 7,000 languages will be extinct.” One of those languages that died this year was that of the Alaskan Eyak tribe. But, before she herself died, this language’s last fluent speaker did what she could to make sure the legacy, culture, and memory of her language lived on. Before the time of her death at age 89, Chief Marie Smith Jones worked with researchers in putting together both a dictionary and formalized grammar of her Eyak language. Here, something of her story will live on.

Another dying language, however, will face a different set of challenges. Here’s a brief quote from NPR’s Morning Edition from November of last year:

“Two brothers in southern Mexico had a falling out. They aren’t speaking, and that has linguists worried. It might have remained a family feud but the brothers are the last two speakers of the local Zoque language. Experts at the Mexican Institute for Indigenous Languages fear that the version of Zoque the brothers speak will disappear if they don’t come to terms. No details on exactly what drove the two apart.”

Now, while the English I’m using right now is certainly in no immediate danger of extinction, I can’t help but think that all of us are in a situation similar to that of the people I just mentioned. Each of our communities, and each of us as individuals, has such a unique experience of the world. And, unless we express what we want now, much of it will pass with us. How is it that we translate the language of our life into something that will carry on?

When I was in seminary, I commonly heard from fellow students and ministers the notion that every preacher actually only has one sermon that they give over and over again in different forms. This is not to say that the minister only has one good sermon in them, but that for many people, their ministry is driven by a religious motivation so strong, that most of their sermons and material are really variations on that larger theme. I’ll leave it to you to decide if this description fits for your current minister, but I know that it is definitely accurate for me.

One night, some members of my ministerial support and study group were sitting around a table discussing what our one sermon might be. My good friend, Julia, offered hers, and I will never forget it. Julia said that the one theme that runs through all her preaching is this: “Life is weirder, harder, and better than you think.” So far in my life, I’ve found her to be correct.

When I came to my own, it was no surprise to me that as someone with a theatre degree, mine would reflect the title of a musical: “I love you, you’re perfect, now change.” I find that this theme runs through much of my ministry and is grounded in our Unitarian Universalist tradition. Our Unitarian and Universalist ancestors passed down to us the theological notions that every part of creation, every individual participates in what is sacred, but that it is still hard work fashioning a fulfilling spiritual life and making justice in this world.

It is certainly not possible to describe an entire life in one sentence. I have to be honest with you. When preparing for this first sermon of the summer as your Summer Minister, I had a bit of writers? block. This question kept creeping up on me: “What can I say to this place? What is it that I have to offer to this historic, vibrant, and growing community of faith?” I certainly don’t think I could offer any sort of grand wisdom that many or all of you don’t already have. But what I can do is ask you the same questions I was asking myself.

Why does this place exist? If this church were to disappear tomorrow, what language would disappear with it? For each person here today, what is it that your life says to the world, and what do you want it to say?

We are living in a period of time where advertisers are constantly telling us to express ourselves. But they want that expression in our cell phone plans or MySpace pages, with the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, or the music we listen to. I was lucky enough to be invited to sit in with the Young Adult group that met here this week. And, as they wisely said in our conversations, being sold something all the time is not the fullest expression of who we are as human beings. Our religious tradition affirms that the great story, the religious wisdom of the world is not complete without your life. What is it that you want it to say?

I know that, for me, it’s often really hard to find that answer or to say it when I have even some idea. As romantic as I’d like to present it, I don’t spend the majority of my waking hours thinking profound thoughts or acting like some sort of saint. A great deal of the time, I’m worried that I won’t be able to make a difference in this world as just one person, especially THIS person.

I can only speak for myself, of course, but there is so much that keeps me from offering my true self to the world. In this culture, I often feel like I’m just too busy to offer some saving message. I’ve got a job, bills to pay, family to deal with, a house to clean ? there’s just no time for some sort of prophetic message to the world.

I wonder if anyone else here has ever felt like it’s a little embarrassing to seem hopeful in this society? It seems easier to get up in front of strangers, or even my family and friends, to talk about some pain in my past, stories of doom and gloom to come. It seems like it’s easier to get up and show off some scar from when I got hurt than to speak of my real love and hope for this world.

The good news here is that we certainly are not the first people to feel this way or struggle with these types of issues. In the Hebrew Scriptures, the author of the book of Ecclesiastes gives voice to the real frustration we can experience in this life. The first sentence of the book begins like this, “Everything is meaningless,” says the teacher, “completely meaningless.” The more traditional translation makes me think he could have been living in 2008: “Vanity of Vanities,” he says, “All is vanity.” I say, “He,” because as a court author of the time, the author was most probably male.

“What is the use of all this,” he asks. He looks to gaining wealth, power, and wisdom, and finds that each of us in the end shares the same fate. He finds that the sunshine and rain fall upon the just and the wicked equally. In one of the passages where he is perhaps struggling most, the author writes, “History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new – We don’t remember what happened in the past, and in future generations, no one will remember what we are doing now.”

I can tell you that I have definitely been frustrated enough to feel like this. Anybody else?

In the midst of all this, though, I’m happy to know that what we do and say actually does make a difference. When our congregations came together to adopt the principles of Unitarian Universalism, we included this, that we affirm an “interdependent web of existence, of which we are all a part.” A little wordy and vague, I know, but in my understanding, this is meant to be a statement about the nature of reality -that each and every part of existence affects and is related to all others. Our religious tradition, and what we are learning from science, affirms that the language of our life, what we offer to this world, makes a difference far beyond ourselves.

In his book, Thank God for Evolution, the Rev. Michael Dowd notes that in the evolution of species, we know that one animal looks and acts the way it does because of what its ancestors did. A Rhinoceros is thick skinned and horned because its ancient ancestors chose to stay and fight. A gazelle is fast because its ancestors were able to flee. What will our descendents look like? What will the future of this church and this faith, of this world, look like because you were here?

For me, another piece of good news here is that, in my experience, to make the right kind of difference, we do not have to be anything but who we are. But the challenge is that we do have to be who we REALLY are – our most authentic selves. Our message to the world, what each and every one of us has to give, does not have to be the smartest, most unique, interesting thing to come about. In fact, that is not always what is most helpful. It seems that what really matters is presenting ourselves, not the selves that get bought or sold into an image, but our REAL selves to the world in a way that alters lives.

The former Unitarian minister, Ralph Waldo Emerson, knew something about this when he addressed the graduates of Harvard Divinity School in 1838 and talked about bad preaching. I know that is a dangerous subject to bring up while in the pulpit, but I think it is worth it here. In this address, Emerson asserts that we have the option between choosing to give freely to the world our real selves or something far different. Here is a bit of what he said to the graduates that day:

“I once heard a preacher who sorely tempted me to say, I would go to church no more… A snow storm was falling around us. The snow storm was real; the preacher merely spectral” He had lived in vain – If he had ever lived and acted, we were none the wiser for it…This man had ploughed, and planted, and talked, and bought, and sold; he had read books; he had eaten and drunken; his head aches; his heart throbs; he smiles and suffers; yet was there not a surmise, a hint, in all the discourse, that he had ever lived at all – The true preacher can be known by this, that he deals out to the people his life, ? life passed through the fire of thought – It seemed strange that the people should come to church. It seemed as if their houses were very unentertaining, that they should prefer this thoughtless clamor.

What Emerson taught that day is not just a lesson for preachers, I think, but for anyone who wants their life to matter. We don’t have to present some perfect version of ourselves to the world in order to make a difference. What we give to each other doesn’t have to be, and cannot be flawless, but it does have to be real. When people read the story that your life gives to the world, what do they find? Will they know that you lived, smiled and suffered, “ploughed and planted” as Emerson said.

It is not always easy to feel like we’re in the right part of our lives to give something to the world. Some in this community are moving out of home for the first time, trying out new ways of living that feel right for them. Many of us are just trying to get the basics of life in order: making a living, starting a family, or finding some type of work that gives us meaning while paying the bills. Many people in this community are facing extraordinary or terrifying things, sometimes all at the same time. In this room right now, there is inspiration, loneliness, sickness and suffering, ageing and youth, anxiety and hope all living side by side. Sometimes, it is hard to believe that what is happening here in our lives could be holy, and other times it’s obvious.

I am proud to be a part of our Unitarian Universalist faith. Our living tradition has held for hundreds of years that new truth about reality has been revealing itself in many ways for eons in the past, and is doing that same thing right now. Religious inspiration and revelation about the nature of this world, of our very existence, is happening right now, right here in this room, in me, and in you.

It is easy to be humbled in the face of how big the world is. And, sometimes, it’s easy also to be humiliated by it. I feel compelled to say this in almost every sermon I give, because it’s often so difficult for me to truly comprehend myself. We are so much more than our jobs. We are so much more than where we went to school, how we dress, where we live, or who we voted for. These things surely affect us, and much of it is so important to us, but in the end, we are so much more than all these. In the midst of all this mental chatter, in all these messages that are sent to us in society, how is it that I even find part of a bigger self to identify with?

Recently, I read a passage from scientists Joel Primack and Nancy Abrams that offer one source:

I can trace my lineage back fourteen billion years through generations of stars. My atoms were created in stars, blown out in stellar winds or massive explosions, and soared for millions of years through space to become part of a newly forming solar system ? my solar system – Intimately woven into me are billions of bits of information that had to be encoded and tested and preserved to create me. Billions of years of cosmic evolution have produced me.

It’s a good thing that we don’t have to believe this, because we know it’s true. Looks like each of us can speak from a very spectacular place.

As I said in beginning this morning, over the course of the summer, I know that I have much more to learn from your community than to teach it. But I will begin with at least with these questions. What it is that this place gives to the world? What is it that you want your life to say, and what is it saying? At a White House Conference on aging 1961, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “There is no human being who does carry a treasure in [their] soul: a moment of insight, a memory of love, a dream of excellence, a call to worship.” What is yours?

My spiritual friends, each of us has the chance (and a very brief one at that) to let our lives speak something true to the world. It may be something grand, something beautiful, a call to justice, a subtle compassion, or a quiet wisdom. No matter what, know this, even in our silence, our very existence will present a message. The interesting this about being a free religious community is that we do not have one book, authority figure, or set of rituals that will continue after us all by itself. The future of this place and its saving message is up to us.

I am sure you have noticed, but a lot of the world is in trouble right now. So many are suffering. So many here are suffering. We do not have the privilege of letting our lives remain silent, or say anything less than prophetic to the world. In this community, our lives must speak to the deepest growth and potential of existence itself.

The term gospel means “good news.” But I have to tell you, I am convinced that good news will not be enough. Your life, and the life of this community, needs to show the world some great news: The great news that the potential for what we can say and be in this world is amazing. The great news that there is always more love, more joy, more truth to be found in this world. The great news that there are no saved and damned, none excluded from the sacred. The great news that gay or straight, conservative or liberal, any race, creed, or nation – each of us shares in one humanity and one fate.

However, I believe that the call to action in a Unitarian Universalist community and in those of other religious liberals is not an easy one. This is not some sentimental view of our role here ? not just some religion where we can say “we’re all ok as we are so we have no work to do.” This is a call to the most radical reimagining of society we have ever seen, where we each cultivate a radically free mind and heart. Its starts this very moment. In how we greet those who come into the doors of this church as if they were in our own home. It starts in how generous we can be to this living tradition and to our communities. It starts in seeing the history, the essence of being itself, something sacred in every single human, including those who differ with us (especially in this election year).

The call of our community is one to give genuinely of yourself to the world ? all of you, the real you ? to give forth our life “passed through the fire of thought.” This does not have to be the “you” defined your religious group, political party, or any other single label we use to confine ourselves. This might be the simplest and most challenging thing any of us could do, but I believe this is exactly what is going to have to happen if we want to see the beloved community on earth.

Just like the languages dying of every fourteen days, something of our lives? song will go with us unless we give what we can right now. May we at this very moment find the courage to give voice to our hope; may we breathe our most authentic selves into this world, and may the language of our lives, sing songs of justice. What better time than now?

Amen.