What Are We Doing Here?

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and Jack Harris-Bonham

March 5, 2006

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

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PRAYER:

Davidson Loehr

Let us not hide our lights under a basket. We meet in this room with the sculpture of a flame in the wall, with a small burning light in our chalice, and with 150 more little personal lights sitting over in the window, waiting to be lit by members and visitors. We’re surrounded by symbols that say what we’re about here is finding and sharing a certain kind of light. So let’s not hide it under a basket.

All religions say they offer a light unto the world. But nobody cares what goes on inside those churches, or what the people in the little buildings think. The rest of the world wonders if we will have some light to share with those outside of our little building.

We have so many kinds of light – even more than those 150 little lights in the window can signify. And the world needs light of many kinds in many dark areas. Who will take light to the world if we don’t?

And so this symbol of light that surrounds and cradles us. Let us take some with us when we leave. Let us not hide our lights under a basket. Light deserves more, and the world needs more. Let this be a place where we learn to light our own lights, then take them out of here to offer to our larger world, each in our own way.

Just that could change the world. Just that.

Amen.

HOMILY: SANCTUARY – A Safe Place For You, By You & Of You,

Jack R. Harris-Bonham, Ministerial Intern

I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3 NIV)

The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! Or, lo there! For behold, the kingdom of God is within (among) you. (Luke 17:20b-21 KJV))

Introduction:

Kids – and I’m speaking to all the kids here not just the ones who are from the 1st to 6th grades. There’s a whole lot more kids here than that. In the reading from the Bible that I just read Jesus says that unless you change and become like a child, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. So where is this kingdom of heaven?

The answer to that question is in the second reading – “for behold, the kingdom of heaven is within, or among you.”

Throughout history human kind has tried to represent the kingdom of heaven through the building of sanctuaries like this one. Why do you suppose there are windows way up high here in the front of our sanctuary? It’s pretty simple really.

Down through the ages we humans have been a lot more literal than we have to be. We tend to take things exactly as they are said. When we hear the words, “kingdom of heaven,” we tend to look towards the heavens – the sky. So a whole lot of cathedrals and churches tend to have light pouring in from above – from the sky.

When you enter a room you eyes tend to follow the light and so when a church, or sanctuary like this one is entered our eyes, our heads and our thoughts tend to go toward the heavens – the sky. So architects and builders of churches have given us a literal interpretation of the kingdom of heaven here on earth. They build sanctuaries that take our thoughts out of this world into the next world – the so-called kingdom of heaven.

But that’s not what Jesus meant when he talked about the kingdom of heaven. He was talking about a place that’s right here on earth – a place that’s easier to get to, if we have the mind and heart of a child.

The Zen Master, Shunryu Suzuki, once said, “In the experts mind there are few possibilities, but in beginner’s mind there are many possibilities.” When Suzuki-Roshi said “beginner’s mind” he was, in fact, talking about the mind and heart of a child.

What is it about the mind and heart of a child that helps us enter the kingdom of heaven? I mean here we are in a representation of the kingdom of God right here on this earth. We are in a sanctuary and this sanctuary is designed so that we can realize the kingdom. But the part that’s missing in most adults, the part that can help us realize the kingdom here on this earth is the imagination and wonder of a child.

In the child dedication ceremony that we do here at First Church, we say at one point in that ceremony, “Nothing is strange to the children for whom everything is new. Children do not yet know what belongs and what does not; therefore for them all things belong. Their ears are open to all music. Their eyes are open to all arts. Their minds open to all languages. Their being open to all manners. In the child’s country there are no foreigners.”

This gets at the heart of what it means to be in a sanctuary. For truly all things are holy and wonderful. It is in that spirit that we gather here in this sacred space. We gather to recognize each other as part of ourselves. We gather to have the imagination of a child’s heart and mind to see past our differences into the heart of the matter, which is that we all – each and every one of us – belong to one another.

There was a man once who wanted to learn to meditate. Meditation is like praying, but there are no words. Meditation is sitting quietly and doing nothing.

But the man didn’t know how – he didn’t know how to just sit and be quiet. Maybe you can understand this? Sometimes it’s hard to sit and be quiet. So a friend suggested that the man go to a place in his mind, in his thinking, a place where he would feel safe – a safe place.

But everywhere he thought of – the golf course, his job, his car, his home – none of these places felt safe to him, then, he remembered the way he felt in his mother’s arms. When he was a little boy and he got scared, he’d run to his mother and do this! (Hold arms up to be held.) She would take him into her arms and she would hold him tight and talk sweet to him. It didn’t matter much what his mother said, what really matter was the way she smelled – like perfume and cookies – and the way he was able to totally relax in her arms.

It’s that feeling of being safe and protected that best explains sanctuary. To be lovingly embraced by the warmth of a room full of friends.

And now I want each of you kids out there to open the special packages that were handed to you when you entered the embrace of this sanctuary. Inside you’ll find color crayons and a piece of paper. There’s going to be a number on one side of this paper. I want to invite you now to begin coloring on the side of the paper without the number – we need to be able to see that number.

Color your hearts out! Make those pieces of paper bright, bold and beautiful and hold on to them because those pieces of paper will be magically transformed at the end of the service.

HOMILY: What are we Doing Here?

Davidson Loehr

In most ways, asking what kind of religion we’re doing in this or any other liberal, non-creedal church isn’t a tricky question at all. We’re doing about the same thing that all religions try to do: help ourselves find better paths through life, and the courage to take them. And like all religions, we remind ourselves of this mission through the use of symbols and metaphors.

I think of this place in mixed metaphors. The symbol of light is our most powerful and persistent symbol, but I also think of this as a “garden of light,” where light seeds can be planted and grow, then we can take them out of here and bring our own kind of inspiration, our own kind of light, to the larger world around us.

In some ways, all of this is contained in that large symbol of the chalice with the flame in it, that Jack will be telling you more about in a few minutes. There really isn’t anything Unitarian in that symbol. It points back to a Roman Catholic priest of six hundred years ago who thought the spirit, the power of religion, symbolized by the Communion chalice, should be offered to all, not just to those approved by his church. There’s the spirit of liberal religion in one symbol: a chalice offering communion, a communion of light, to all the world, not stopping at the walls of a church or at the walls of a nation or at the walls of belief.

And that flame, that light, is what we like to think we have to offer: more light, a different and better way of seeing things, even if it is often highly unorthodox. That too is in the style of that old priest whose life and death we celebrate every time we look at the symbol of the flaming chalice. The flame has a much darker meaning, too, but I’ll let Jack tell you that.

But it’s all about sharing what we have with others outside these walls. Because until it’s been shared with others, there’s no communion. Nobody cares what Unitarians think. Nobody cares what Presbyterians busy themselves with inside their walls.

The world only cares whether our religion has filled us up enough so that there is some overflow that might share light and sustenance with those outside our little walls. That’s the “communion” the world needs from those who style ourselves “religious.” So the big light sculpted into the wall is to remind us of that high and hard calling. And the single flame that we light in our small chalice up on the stage is that same symbol, brought to life, to light.

But we also have 150 personal lights over there in the window, for you to light. And that’s like sharing the big communion cup with you, then letting you make it your own, in whatever form you give it.

Where do you take your light? Into your lives, into your families, into your jobs, into your thoughts and dreams, to let it shine there. But you know you have to take it out of this room before it can do any real work.

For many of you, the larger world you most want to share light with is your children, and they are probably the most important larger world we have. The children are the future of our families, our faith, and our world. That’s why so much of what we try to do here is meant to be of help to parents and children.

Not all of us here have children, so we try to share our light in different ways, usually through work or friendships. Artists try to bring more beauty; lawyers and lawmakers try to bring more justice; mechanics and engineers try to bring more creative efficiency; teachers and preachers try to bring more understanding, more light, more compassion. We all try to bring more of some kind of light into the parts of the larger world for which we have passion.

For me, it’s largely about finding patterns to things that make them more understandable, more useful. I love stories, and look for the plots that hold actions together. For almost all the sermons I do here, I’m looking for patterns that you can use within your lives, like the wonderful old story of Gilgamesh last week.

But I also have some passion for the world around me, because I think being an aware and responsible citizen is a civic duty that has almost sacred status. And as a veteran of the Vietnam War, I have a lot of passion for the subject of war, and a deep disgust at seeing the lives of soldiers wasted through illegal and dishonest wars. I have some interest in all sorts of things that define the larger world around us, and these too find their way into my sermons, as you know.

Three weeks ago, I preached a sermon trying to assert some patterns in that larger world outside our walls, and it was a good example of how this business of “light” works in this very bright and animated church.

As you know if you were here, it was a pretty contentious sermon, because I said during it that I thought our government was responsible for the awful attacks of 9-11. Well, it’s hard to touch such a powerful and important subject without having done some good homework, and without figuring out just how to frame it, and for what audience. And I must say none of that was done well.

But the uproar that ensued was all part of the process of offering our light out, then listening to critiques from people who don’t like that light, or don’t think it illuminates. It didn’t take long to realize that I had done it poorly and needed to do a lot more work before offering it out beyond these walls, and I did a lot of work during the past two weeks.

But this past Friday, that work had grown into a brand new essay, and a long one, about four sermon lengths, that I offered out to the Internet, and which is now posted on the first of what I suspect will be many web sites around the world, to see if it can stimulate further discussion of some of the important issues raised there (www.propeace.net).

Some of you liked the version of three weeks ago, some hated it, but it turned out to be just a “light seed” that got cut back, then grew into a very different kind of light. I’m happy with the new piece, though it has very little to do with the sermon of three weeks ago, and am happy to see it out where it will draw more comments and certainly more criticisms from that larger world beyond these walls.

I am trying to articulate the “frame” story that I believe is the plot that helps explain not only 9-11 but also our imperialism, our rapacious economy, our growing indifference to the poor, two rigged elections and much more. I think I’ve done it, so it is time to offer it out, to see what comments and critiques it will draw, and whether it can spark a good and ongoing discussion. It is bound to draw some angry criticism, no matter how many concurring sentiments it gathers, because that’s the price of sending offerings out into the larger world.

But I think informed and passionate attacks are exciting and positive, because I see that Spirit operating, and trust the process that can sort the grain from the chaff. The new title of the piece is “The New World Order Story,” and it will be posted on enough websites that I won’t post it on the church website because it isn’t a sermon, isn’t about religion, and is now really intended for an audience I might describe just as “citizens” or “Americans,” rather than just us. Like about five or six other sermons I’ve done in my six hears here, it wound up being intended for a larger audience, the one outside these walls.

But it grew here. It grew in this atmosphere where we come to seek more light – and yes, to criticize the quality of light that is sometimes offered. But this was the light garden where it grew, just as it’s the light garden where so many of your own lights grow, and are taken into so many other directions.

The faith of this liberal style of religion isn’t about all believing the same thing. That’s for religions of creeds and orthodoxies, religions that exalt a position. Liberal religion doesn’t exalt a position, but a process. It is about trusting the light, trusting people, and trusting the act of open communion. We believe that it is our job to share the light we think we have found with others outside the walls here, to make a positive difference in the world around us so that we might all find better paths through life, and the courage to take them. And we trust that people will use that light as they need to, as they see most fit, and that even if they use it in ways we wouldn’t have, I think there is a trust that it’s still a good thing to have more light in the world.

When we do it right, the light in that chalice really can symbolize light, enlightenment, illumination, and the spirit of life. When we do it wrong, that chalice light can revert to its original meaning, which Jack will tell you about shortly.

Now watching these light seeds grow can be kind of exciting, in a frustrating way, even when it’s done very awkwardly. It’s more fun when there aren’t so many birth pangs. But it is a sacred mission, this business of giving birth to more light, and taking it into the many corners of our many worlds, to try and make a positive difference, and to illuminate better paths. And that’s a good thing.

HOMILY, PART TWO: Sanctuary,

by Jack R. Harris-Bonham

Now, if the ushers will collect the beautifully colored pieces of paper. Kids just pass them down to the end of the aisle and the ushers will bring them up here.

Now, while that’s going on I want to show you something – it’s a sort of word puzzle. The older kids have an advantage here, but that’s okay – that’s how we learn by watching older kids give answers – answers that maybe we”d thought of, too, but were too scared to speak up and give.

(Hold up the sign with this on it: CH_ _ CH.) What’s missing in this word? (Wait for answers – hopefully some kid will have the right answer – if not – wing it!)

That’s right! What’s missing in “church” – U R! You see it’s like a joke, a pun, a play on words. What’s missing, what church is, wouldn’t be church, unless you are there!

I remember this hand game that I was taught when I was a kid. (Do the hand game about church.)

“Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors and there are the people.” You see, without the people – there is no church. (Say while closing your hands) And it is the church, which lovingly embraces the people.

Back in the 15th Century there was a priest Jan Hus. He had a church in Prague, Czechoslovakia. Part of their church service was a meal – they shared bread and wine together. But back then the priests were supposed to speak in a foreign language, Latin, and only the priests were supposed to drink from the cup or chalice. But Jan Hus spoke the church service not in Latin, but in his native tongue, Czech and he passed the cup around and let everyone in the church drink from it. He was punished for doing that – in fact – he was burned at the stake.

In 1939 the Unitarian Service Committee that was helping people escape Nazi Germany had an artist named Hans Deutsch design them a symbol that would represent how Unitarians felt about the world. Hans Deutsch designed a chalice – like the one that Jan Hus passed to all the people, and in the middle of the chalice he put a flame – and the flame was Jan Hus as he was being burned alive at the stake. The message is clear. We Unitarians believe that the cup of knowledge, faith and love is intended for all people, and to back this statement up we put someone who died for that belief as a part of the chalice.

Now, I notice that some of you have been watching what’s happening over here. We’ve put together a giant puzzle from all the pieces that you colored and what have we made? Who can tell me?

(Wait for answers – or give clues)

That’s right! It’s the chalice. Chalice is just a fancy word for cup. The chalice or cup is a symbol for Unitarian Universalist because when we come here we are nourished, feed from a single cup or source.

So what you’ve made here today with your individual efforts is a coloring of the cup that nourishes – the symbol of our faith. Each of you work independently, but by putting together your efforts you made something larger and greater than any one of us – and that’s as good a definition of church as you’ll probably ever get.