December Worship theme:
Stillness
Stillness
December 27 Sunday Service:
2020: Goodbye and Good Riddance
Sermon by Rev. Beth Miller
I don’t have to tell you what a strange and painful year this has been. We know. We remember. We grieve. We say “goodbye, we’re glad you’re finally over.” In addition to the sermon, we will acknowledge the losses we grieve and spend some time in a ritual of letting go of what we’re glad to be rid of. If you were able to come to the Christmas Eve Wassail Drive Through, bring the little slip of paper that was in your gift bag, a pen, and a small bowl of water with you to the service. If not, any slip of paper will do.
2020: Goodbye and Good Riddance
Sermon by Rev. Beth Miller
I don’t have to tell you what a strange and painful year this has been. We know. We remember. We grieve. We say “goodbye, we’re glad you’re finally over.” In addition to the sermon, we will acknowledge the losses we grieve and spend some time in a ritual of letting go of what we’re glad to be rid of. If you were able to come to the Christmas Eve Wassail Drive Through, bring the little slip of paper that was in your gift bag, a pen, and a small bowl of water with you to the service. If not, any slip of paper will do.
December 20 Sunday Service:
The Day the Sun Disappeared
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
As Earth tilts away from the sun on its spatial journey, Winter Solstice (December 21) marks the longest night and shortest day of our year. Cultures on this circling sphere find many meanings in this celestial phenomenon. They’ve invented festive rituals to “bring back the sun”. We’ll consider a strangely delightful story from Japan as we celebrate the Solstice in the midst of our own long night in a troubled world.
The Day the Sun Disappeared
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
As Earth tilts away from the sun on its spatial journey, Winter Solstice (December 21) marks the longest night and shortest day of our year. Cultures on this circling sphere find many meanings in this celestial phenomenon. They’ve invented festive rituals to “bring back the sun”. We’ll consider a strangely delightful story from Japan as we celebrate the Solstice in the midst of our own long night in a troubled world.
Music for these recordings has been provided by Don Bryn, Robert Lischetti and the "Masked Mini-Choir"
Masked Mini-Choir
December 13 Sunday Service:
Whom Do We Serve and
Who Is My Neighbor?
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
This service will explore the implications of the second set of missional identity questions to be explored by the congregation. These questions seek to illuminate the truths of our context and how that might impact our sense of purpose for the future. Also in the service, a special meditation for the season of Hanukkah.
"Whom Do We Serve?" conversation after Coffee Hour at 1 pm, as noted below.
Whom Do We Serve and
Who Is My Neighbor?
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
This service will explore the implications of the second set of missional identity questions to be explored by the congregation. These questions seek to illuminate the truths of our context and how that might impact our sense of purpose for the future. Also in the service, a special meditation for the season of Hanukkah.
"Whom Do We Serve?" conversation after Coffee Hour at 1 pm, as noted below.
December 6 Sunday Service:
Find a Stillness
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
December can be a very busy month and yet much of its deeper truths come forward when we slow down. It is also likely that the ongoing pandemic may ask for us to be very careful about gathering and so what might be made more meaningful about this time at home? This service will explore the power and meaning of “stillness” for this season.
Find a Stillness
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
December can be a very busy month and yet much of its deeper truths come forward when we slow down. It is also likely that the ongoing pandemic may ask for us to be very careful about gathering and so what might be made more meaningful about this time at home? This service will explore the power and meaning of “stillness” for this season.
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Rev. Brock Leach
November 29 Sunday Service:
Building a Multicultural Movement
Sermon by Rev. Brock Leach
In this moment of overwhelming divisiveness, it’s hard to imagine how we might cross cultural boundaries to tackle our common human challenges. As part of my UUA work supporting religious innovators, I’ve been interviewing ministers of culturally diverse congregations to learn what they know about building and sustaining multicultural communities. Their answers are hopeful and inspire me to imagine how Unitarian Universalism can show the way forward.
Rev. Brock Leach is one of our local community ministers. As Vice-Chair of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committe (UUSC), he is working to advance social justice and social entrepreneurship. He currently serves as an executive consultant to the UUA for its Innovative Ministries project and has helped develop and lead its Entrepreneurial Ministry program in partnership with the UU Ministers Association. Prior to that, Leach was vice-president of mission, strategy and innovation at UUSC where he helped create and launch the UU College of Social Justice; Commit2Respond, a UU-wide campaign for Climate Justice; and UUSC’s Justice-Building Program.
Building a Multicultural Movement
Sermon by Rev. Brock Leach
In this moment of overwhelming divisiveness, it’s hard to imagine how we might cross cultural boundaries to tackle our common human challenges. As part of my UUA work supporting religious innovators, I’ve been interviewing ministers of culturally diverse congregations to learn what they know about building and sustaining multicultural communities. Their answers are hopeful and inspire me to imagine how Unitarian Universalism can show the way forward.
Rev. Brock Leach is one of our local community ministers. As Vice-Chair of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committe (UUSC), he is working to advance social justice and social entrepreneurship. He currently serves as an executive consultant to the UUA for its Innovative Ministries project and has helped develop and lead its Entrepreneurial Ministry program in partnership with the UU Ministers Association. Prior to that, Leach was vice-president of mission, strategy and innovation at UUSC where he helped create and launch the UU College of Social Justice; Commit2Respond, a UU-wide campaign for Climate Justice; and UUSC’s Justice-Building Program.
November 22 Sunday Service:
Things to Make the Season Bright
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
As we move into another holiday season, beginning with Thanksgiving, there are often a variety of experiences of the time. Even in typical years, it is often a time of challenge as well as opportunity. We know that this season is likely to be even more of a challenge and so we will explore ways to journey through the coming weeks with greater intention, meaning, and compassion.
Things to Make the Season Bright
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
As we move into another holiday season, beginning with Thanksgiving, there are often a variety of experiences of the time. Even in typical years, it is often a time of challenge as well as opportunity. We know that this season is likely to be even more of a challenge and so we will explore ways to journey through the coming weeks with greater intention, meaning, and compassion.
Click here for the Stories of Hope, referred to in Doug's sermon.
November 15 Sunday Service:
Your Five Shining Stars
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
Over the past months, I have been working diligently to listen to what you have told me about the strength and heart of the congregation. This service will synthesize what I have heard and share with you the Five Shining Stars that help you successfully navigate the sometimes soothing, sometimes challenging, and often stormy seas of life. The five shining stars are five major sources of wisdom, courage, and inspiration for this specific congregation that you have told me are important. With each, I will explore the strengths and challenges they offer.
Your Five Shining Stars
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
Over the past months, I have been working diligently to listen to what you have told me about the strength and heart of the congregation. This service will synthesize what I have heard and share with you the Five Shining Stars that help you successfully navigate the sometimes soothing, sometimes challenging, and often stormy seas of life. The five shining stars are five major sources of wisdom, courage, and inspiration for this specific congregation that you have told me are important. With each, I will explore the strengths and challenges they offer.
November 8 Sunday Service:
Where Do We Go
from Here?
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
Even if we do know the final election results as we gather for worship this weekend, there is so much mystery, angst, and hurt to sort through in the coming time. Perhaps this sermon might be more accurately understood as an exploration of how we might best journey forth from this point. Join us to explore how we might think about the work ahead and what resources will best aid us in finding the strength, courage, and compassion to get there.
Where Do We Go
from Here?
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
Even if we do know the final election results as we gather for worship this weekend, there is so much mystery, angst, and hurt to sort through in the coming time. Perhaps this sermon might be more accurately understood as an exploration of how we might best journey forth from this point. Join us to explore how we might think about the work ahead and what resources will best aid us in finding the strength, courage, and compassion to get there.
November 1 Sunday Service:
What the Pilgrims Didn’t Hear:
The Silence of Massasoit
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
400 years ago, the Mayflower dropped anchor off Cape Cod beginning a new chapter in North American history. In 1970, Wampanoag native Frank B. James was invited to give a commemorative oration to celebrate the anniversary on behalf of indigenous Americans. He would have recommended that Thanksgiving Day become a day of new beginnings in the relationships between our peoples. Instead, his speech was suppressed. Can we recover his vision?
Pictured above is a painting of Massasoit wearing the red horseman's coat that he was given as a gift in the spring of 1621 by Edward Winslow and Stephen Hopkins on behalf of the Plymouth colonists. Painting courtesy of Ruth DeWilde-Major.
What the Pilgrims Didn’t Hear:
The Silence of Massasoit
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
400 years ago, the Mayflower dropped anchor off Cape Cod beginning a new chapter in North American history. In 1970, Wampanoag native Frank B. James was invited to give a commemorative oration to celebrate the anniversary on behalf of indigenous Americans. He would have recommended that Thanksgiving Day become a day of new beginnings in the relationships between our peoples. Instead, his speech was suppressed. Can we recover his vision?
Pictured above is a painting of Massasoit wearing the red horseman's coat that he was given as a gift in the spring of 1621 by Edward Winslow and Stephen Hopkins on behalf of the Plymouth colonists. Painting courtesy of Ruth DeWilde-Major.
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October 25 Sunday service:
Religion and Politics: Oil and Water or Peas in a Pod? Sermon by Rev. Beth Miller |
With the election just over a week away you've already decided how you will vote, and have likely done so already. This is not about voting. It's about the separation of church and state, the rules governing religion and politics, and Unitarian Universalism’s long history of social and political involvement. Regardless of Tuesday’s outcome, such involvement will still be crucial in the weeks and months ahead.
October 18 Sunday service:
Holy Conversations in Times of Change
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
We talk to our friends, family, and coworkers often, but there are ways in which this can be understood as something that takes us to a much deeper level of understanding. In this service we explore what makes a conversation holy.
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
We talk to our friends, family, and coworkers often, but there are ways in which this can be understood as something that takes us to a much deeper level of understanding. In this service we explore what makes a conversation holy.
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October 4 Sunday service
Animal Blessing
With Rev. Doug Wadkins, Rev. Beth Miller and Rev. Budd Friend-Jones officiating
This service will honor and bless the creatures in our lives that offer us love and connection. The service will also include a time of remembering beloved animals that have passed from our lives. We will invite you to send in pictures of pets in preparation for the service. This is a prerecorded service, available anytime as usual, but because it is an Animal Blessing with a ritual at the live coffee hour at 11:30 we suggest people watch it at 10:45 or earlier and then participate in the ritual
Animal Blessing
With Rev. Doug Wadkins, Rev. Beth Miller and Rev. Budd Friend-Jones officiating
This service will honor and bless the creatures in our lives that offer us love and connection. The service will also include a time of remembering beloved animals that have passed from our lives. We will invite you to send in pictures of pets in preparation for the service. This is a prerecorded service, available anytime as usual, but because it is an Animal Blessing with a ritual at the live coffee hour at 11:30 we suggest people watch it at 10:45 or earlier and then participate in the ritual
September 27 Sunday service
The Oasis
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
As we move into an autumn unlike any other for so many reasons, we are likely feeling a range of things including some sense of being anxious and perhaps even a bit heavy of heart. This service will explore some of the practices that recharge and connect us especially in times of great change or stress.
The Oasis
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
As we move into an autumn unlike any other for so many reasons, we are likely feeling a range of things including some sense of being anxious and perhaps even a bit heavy of heart. This service will explore some of the practices that recharge and connect us especially in times of great change or stress.
September 20 Sunday service:
A New Year Awaits
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
The High Holy Days are an invitation to renewing our sense of purpose, rethinking our important relationships, saying goodbye to that which does not serve us, and committing to new, life-giving practices.
A New Year Awaits
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
The High Holy Days are an invitation to renewing our sense of purpose, rethinking our important relationships, saying goodbye to that which does not serve us, and committing to new, life-giving practices.
September 13 Sunday service
Renewing Our Sense of Purpose
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
We have recently explored the importance of self-knowledge in other services, and this knowledge may be put to good work and thinking about meaning and purpose and life. This service will explore the vital practice for any age and stage in life of one’s vocation. In turn, this renewed sense of individual purpose can create new energy and possibility for the larger community.
Renewing Our Sense of Purpose
Sermon by Rev. Doug Wadkins
We have recently explored the importance of self-knowledge in other services, and this knowledge may be put to good work and thinking about meaning and purpose and life. This service will explore the vital practice for any age and stage in life of one’s vocation. In turn, this renewed sense of individual purpose can create new energy and possibility for the larger community.
September 6 Sunday service
Visible Heroes Facing Invisible Threats
Sermon by Rev. Beth Miller, Associate Minister
The pandemic has given us a new awareness of what is essential to maintaining the smooth operation of society and who the people providing those services are. It has also made us painfully aware of how undervalued many of those people are. On this Labor Day Sunday, when picnics and street fairs are far less attractive to most of us, let us celebrate the worth and dignity of work. And let’s think about how we can improve the lives of those whose work is essential.
Click anywhere on the video to play.
Visible Heroes Facing Invisible Threats
Sermon by Rev. Beth Miller, Associate Minister
The pandemic has given us a new awareness of what is essential to maintaining the smooth operation of society and who the people providing those services are. It has also made us painfully aware of how undervalued many of those people are. On this Labor Day Sunday, when picnics and street fairs are far less attractive to most of us, let us celebrate the worth and dignity of work. And let’s think about how we can improve the lives of those whose work is essential.
Click anywhere on the video to play.
August 30 Sunday service
Know Thyself
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
One of the oldest philosophical pursuits is exploring the inner self and its relationship to the outer world. All we can know and indeed all that we do is inspired by, interpreted through the truth of who we truly are. Gaining that knowledge is harder than it sounds. This service will explore the pathway and importance of the practice of knowing ourselves. (See video on homepage.)
Know Thyself
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
One of the oldest philosophical pursuits is exploring the inner self and its relationship to the outer world. All we can know and indeed all that we do is inspired by, interpreted through the truth of who we truly are. Gaining that knowledge is harder than it sounds. This service will explore the pathway and importance of the practice of knowing ourselves. (See video on homepage.)
August 23 Sunday service
The Art of Friendship and the Pandemic
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
As we begin another cycle of the year within the life of the congregation, this service focuses on the particular importance of understanding friendship as a spiritual practice, especially in this time of increased isolation. We will explore why friendship matters so much now, and how to best understand its power in our lives..
The Art of Friendship and the Pandemic
Sermon by Rev. Douglas Wadkins
As we begin another cycle of the year within the life of the congregation, this service focuses on the particular importance of understanding friendship as a spiritual practice, especially in this time of increased isolation. We will explore why friendship matters so much now, and how to best understand its power in our lives..
August 9 service:
The Power and Possibility of Change
Reflections by the Revs. Doug Wadkins, Beth Miller and Budd Friend-Jones
As we begin this interim time of transition, let us reflect on changes in our own lives, changes in this congregation, and changes in the ways that the world has been transformed. All of this will help us think about meaningful answer to the question, “what is the world asking of me and of us in the next few years?”
The Power and Possibility of Change
Reflections by the Revs. Doug Wadkins, Beth Miller and Budd Friend-Jones
As we begin this interim time of transition, let us reflect on changes in our own lives, changes in this congregation, and changes in the ways that the world has been transformed. All of this will help us think about meaningful answer to the question, “what is the world asking of me and of us in the next few years?”
AUDACIOUS ICONS AND THE SOUL OF AMERICA
Sermon by Budd Friend-Jones
August 2, 2020
This morning I want us to remember and honor three great individuals in our nation’s recent history. To paraphrase the Herald-Tribune, they were among the Founding Fathers and Founding Mothers of a Better America. They invested their lives in overcoming racism and other oppressions in America. All three were ordained ministers. All three worked at the center of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1950’s down to the present time. All three received our nation’s highest honor, the national Medal of Freedom.
On March 27, the Reverend Joseph Echols Lowery passed away at age 98. He was followed in death by the Reverend C. T. Vivian on July 17, and by Congressman John Lewis the very next day.
Joseph Lowery is often called the Dean of the Civil Rights movement. He founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with Martin Luther King Jr. He helped lead the Montgomery bus boycott and headed the Alabama Civic Affairs Association, an organization devoted to the desegregation of buses and public places. He was a co-founder and president of the Black Leadership.
He protested the existence of Apartheid in South Africa and was one of the first five black men arrest outside the South African embassy in Washington, DC. He was a strong advocate for LGBTQ rights, including equality in marriage.
C. T. Vivian helped to organize the first sit-ins in Nashville in 1960 and the first civil rights march in 1961. He participated in Freedom Rides. He worked alongside Martin Luther King Jr. as the national director of affiliates for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He led sit-ins at lunch counters, boycotts of businesses, and marches that continued for weeks or months in segregated cities. He was arrested often, jailed and beaten. At the end of a violence-plagued interracial Freedom Ride to Jackson, he was dispatched to the Hinds County Prison Farm, where he was beaten by guards. In 1964, he was nearly killed in St. Augustine, Florida, and once, on an Atlantic beach, roving white gangs whipped Black bathers with chains and almost drowned C.T. Vivian. Yet he always kept the focus of the struggle in a moral and spiritual context. He later wrote, “It was on this plane that the movement first confronted the conscience of the nation.” Fellow civil rights activists knew him as the “resident theologian” in King’s inner circle, Rev. Jesse Jackson recalled.
Until his death he was a fervent believer in Non-violence. He always instructed protesters, “Nonviolence is the only honorable way of dealing with social change, because if we are wrong, nobody gets hurt but us.”
And finally, of course, there is John Robert Lewis. So much has been said about him in the last few days, and deservedly so, but I hesitate to another word. From the days of his youth he was involved in peaceful protest and civil rights. He was one of the first Freedom Riders, beaten nearly to death, an organizer and speaker at the March on Washington, an organizer of the Selma to Montgomery march, and so much more. The son of sharecroppers in Alabama, he rose to the heights of power as a member of the US House of Representatives for 33 years. He has been called an “arc-bender”. He believed that the learning that matters most involves moral edification. History will remember him as one of the most respected moral and political leaders in our history.
All three have been called “Icons” of the Civil Rights Movement. I believe they were icons of something even larger. An Icon, in the classical religious sense, is a window into a higher realm.
These men, along with many others, were windows into the very best of human nature. In them we see integrity, courage, selflessness and a higher moral purpose. Through them we can glimpse what we also can be.
All three were co-workers with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. All three were deeply immersed in the ethical and spiritual teachings of Jesus of Nazareth from the time they were children. All three also learned and practiced the spiritual disciplines of satyagraha and non-violence as articulated by Mohandas Gandhi and taught by James Lawson and re-enforced by Dr. King.
Satyagraha means “truth force”. It is the power that comes from living and acting in the Truth. It is the power of absolute integrity.
Non-violence is a way of life based on a profound love ethic, a love toward the other, no matter how egregious or hurtful their behavior is toward us.
Satyagraha leads toward greater justice. Non-violence leads toward the Beloved Community. These men never abandoned this philosophy.
For example, in the following clip, C. T. Vivian is speaking about the bombing of the Black church in Birmingham, Alabama, and the deaths of four little girls who were killed when the bomb detonated.
Watch C. T. Vivian on Bombing of Birmingham Church
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rea1ftD5ePU
(Begin at 2:09 minutes in)
The true genius of the civil rights movement was its spiritual intentionality and inclusivity. It was never the Black race against the White race. As Vivian said, “What more can we do in freeing up not only African Americans but of (all) people in this nation? It’s not only a matter of freeing Black people, but of freeing White people as well. We really can’t free one without freeing the other.” He knew that we are all bound together as Dr. King said, in an “inescapable web of mutuality.” No one can truly be free from oppression until all of us are free together.
All of them knew they were involved in a great spiritual struggle. In 2004, John Lewis explained to PBS: “In my estimation, the civil rights movement was a religious phenomenon. When we’d go out to sit in or go out to march, I felt, and I really believe, there was a force in front of us and a force behind us, ’cause sometimes you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how you were going to make it through the day or through the night. But somehow and some way, you believed – you had faith – that it all was going to be all right.”
Watch John Lewis at Selma
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vumOmpv-L6A
Lewis constantly reminded us of the work still to be done to “redeem the soul of America”. “Don’t get lost in a sea of despair….,” he cautioned at the Edmund Pettis Bridge, and who should know better about that? Echoing both Vivian and King, he proclaimed, “We are one family, the human family. We all live in the same house, the American house…”
America is at a moral as well as a political and constitutional tipping point.
Black Lives Matter, said Melina Abdullah, its co-founder in Las Angeles, is much more than a movement for racial and social justice movement. At its core, she said, it is a spiritual movement.
Historian John Meacham has consistently observed that our present crisis is about the theology of America. Are we devoted to the words, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself”? Or are we devoted to the selfish pursuit of our own happiness, others be damned? The struggle is about the content of our character.
Watch Civil Rights Leader Rev. Joseph Lowery: 'We Ain't Going Back'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TuPu5-cnF2Q
Let us rise up from the basement of race and color. Let us rise to the higher ground of the content of character….
The higher ground of character…
“Well, we ain’t goin’ back. We ain’t goin’ back. We’ve come to far, marched too long, prayed too hard, wept too bitterly, bled too profusely, and died too young to let anybody turn back the clock on our journey to justice.”
Let all the people say, Amen!
Reading “If we must die” by Claude McKay
During the summer of 1919, our country was struggling with two watershed moments. For a year-and-a-half the world had been engulfed by a devastating pandemic called the “Spanish Flu”; it would continue to infect communities for another year. In addition, the so-called Great War had just ended. Over five million soldiers were returning from abroad. They were seeking jobs that did not exist.
380,000 of those were African American. They too had borne the sacrifices of warfare for their country. They too expected its rights and benefits. W. E. B. Dubois, among others, urged them to continue their fight for democracy at home. But sadly, there were lynchings, church burnings and rampant anti-Black violence across the country.
This became known as “Red Summer”. Historians estimate that a thousand or more African Americans were killed before the violence subsided. Our country was caught in the clash of hope and threat, Time Magazine reported, between new dreams and entangled fears. This is the context for the poem you’re about to hear.
“If we must die” was written by Claude McKay, a central figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Jamaica-born, McKay was a novelist and poet of African descent. He blended his African pride with his love for British poetry. This is one of his most famous poems. He wrote it in the form of a Shakespearean sonnet. It speaks to the desperation felt among African Americans everywhere during “Red Summer”.
C. T. Vivian of blessed memory is the reader here. He was one of the primary architects of the non-violent civil rights movement that also gave us Dr. King, John Lewis, Joseph Lowery, James Reeb, Andrew Young and so many others. This poem from 1919 took on new meaning for them as they marched in the 1960’s. It continues to inspire those who struggle for justice today.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursèd lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
Benediction by John Lewis
The following words are taken from a longer “final essay” written by John Lewis shortly before he died.
Though I may not be here with you, I urge you
to answer the highest calling of your heart
and stand up for what you truly believe.
In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace,
the way of love and nonviolence,
is the more excellent way.
Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.
When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century,
let them say that it was your generation
who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last
and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war.
So I say to you,
walk with the wind, brothers and sisters.
Let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.
Sermon by Budd Friend-Jones
August 2, 2020
This morning I want us to remember and honor three great individuals in our nation’s recent history. To paraphrase the Herald-Tribune, they were among the Founding Fathers and Founding Mothers of a Better America. They invested their lives in overcoming racism and other oppressions in America. All three were ordained ministers. All three worked at the center of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1950’s down to the present time. All three received our nation’s highest honor, the national Medal of Freedom.
On March 27, the Reverend Joseph Echols Lowery passed away at age 98. He was followed in death by the Reverend C. T. Vivian on July 17, and by Congressman John Lewis the very next day.
Joseph Lowery is often called the Dean of the Civil Rights movement. He founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with Martin Luther King Jr. He helped lead the Montgomery bus boycott and headed the Alabama Civic Affairs Association, an organization devoted to the desegregation of buses and public places. He was a co-founder and president of the Black Leadership.
He protested the existence of Apartheid in South Africa and was one of the first five black men arrest outside the South African embassy in Washington, DC. He was a strong advocate for LGBTQ rights, including equality in marriage.
C. T. Vivian helped to organize the first sit-ins in Nashville in 1960 and the first civil rights march in 1961. He participated in Freedom Rides. He worked alongside Martin Luther King Jr. as the national director of affiliates for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He led sit-ins at lunch counters, boycotts of businesses, and marches that continued for weeks or months in segregated cities. He was arrested often, jailed and beaten. At the end of a violence-plagued interracial Freedom Ride to Jackson, he was dispatched to the Hinds County Prison Farm, where he was beaten by guards. In 1964, he was nearly killed in St. Augustine, Florida, and once, on an Atlantic beach, roving white gangs whipped Black bathers with chains and almost drowned C.T. Vivian. Yet he always kept the focus of the struggle in a moral and spiritual context. He later wrote, “It was on this plane that the movement first confronted the conscience of the nation.” Fellow civil rights activists knew him as the “resident theologian” in King’s inner circle, Rev. Jesse Jackson recalled.
Until his death he was a fervent believer in Non-violence. He always instructed protesters, “Nonviolence is the only honorable way of dealing with social change, because if we are wrong, nobody gets hurt but us.”
And finally, of course, there is John Robert Lewis. So much has been said about him in the last few days, and deservedly so, but I hesitate to another word. From the days of his youth he was involved in peaceful protest and civil rights. He was one of the first Freedom Riders, beaten nearly to death, an organizer and speaker at the March on Washington, an organizer of the Selma to Montgomery march, and so much more. The son of sharecroppers in Alabama, he rose to the heights of power as a member of the US House of Representatives for 33 years. He has been called an “arc-bender”. He believed that the learning that matters most involves moral edification. History will remember him as one of the most respected moral and political leaders in our history.
All three have been called “Icons” of the Civil Rights Movement. I believe they were icons of something even larger. An Icon, in the classical religious sense, is a window into a higher realm.
These men, along with many others, were windows into the very best of human nature. In them we see integrity, courage, selflessness and a higher moral purpose. Through them we can glimpse what we also can be.
All three were co-workers with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. All three were deeply immersed in the ethical and spiritual teachings of Jesus of Nazareth from the time they were children. All three also learned and practiced the spiritual disciplines of satyagraha and non-violence as articulated by Mohandas Gandhi and taught by James Lawson and re-enforced by Dr. King.
Satyagraha means “truth force”. It is the power that comes from living and acting in the Truth. It is the power of absolute integrity.
Non-violence is a way of life based on a profound love ethic, a love toward the other, no matter how egregious or hurtful their behavior is toward us.
Satyagraha leads toward greater justice. Non-violence leads toward the Beloved Community. These men never abandoned this philosophy.
For example, in the following clip, C. T. Vivian is speaking about the bombing of the Black church in Birmingham, Alabama, and the deaths of four little girls who were killed when the bomb detonated.
Watch C. T. Vivian on Bombing of Birmingham Church
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rea1ftD5ePU
(Begin at 2:09 minutes in)
The true genius of the civil rights movement was its spiritual intentionality and inclusivity. It was never the Black race against the White race. As Vivian said, “What more can we do in freeing up not only African Americans but of (all) people in this nation? It’s not only a matter of freeing Black people, but of freeing White people as well. We really can’t free one without freeing the other.” He knew that we are all bound together as Dr. King said, in an “inescapable web of mutuality.” No one can truly be free from oppression until all of us are free together.
All of them knew they were involved in a great spiritual struggle. In 2004, John Lewis explained to PBS: “In my estimation, the civil rights movement was a religious phenomenon. When we’d go out to sit in or go out to march, I felt, and I really believe, there was a force in front of us and a force behind us, ’cause sometimes you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how you were going to make it through the day or through the night. But somehow and some way, you believed – you had faith – that it all was going to be all right.”
Watch John Lewis at Selma
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vumOmpv-L6A
Lewis constantly reminded us of the work still to be done to “redeem the soul of America”. “Don’t get lost in a sea of despair….,” he cautioned at the Edmund Pettis Bridge, and who should know better about that? Echoing both Vivian and King, he proclaimed, “We are one family, the human family. We all live in the same house, the American house…”
America is at a moral as well as a political and constitutional tipping point.
Black Lives Matter, said Melina Abdullah, its co-founder in Las Angeles, is much more than a movement for racial and social justice movement. At its core, she said, it is a spiritual movement.
Historian John Meacham has consistently observed that our present crisis is about the theology of America. Are we devoted to the words, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself”? Or are we devoted to the selfish pursuit of our own happiness, others be damned? The struggle is about the content of our character.
Watch Civil Rights Leader Rev. Joseph Lowery: 'We Ain't Going Back'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TuPu5-cnF2Q
Let us rise up from the basement of race and color. Let us rise to the higher ground of the content of character….
The higher ground of character…
“Well, we ain’t goin’ back. We ain’t goin’ back. We’ve come to far, marched too long, prayed too hard, wept too bitterly, bled too profusely, and died too young to let anybody turn back the clock on our journey to justice.”
Let all the people say, Amen!
Reading “If we must die” by Claude McKay
During the summer of 1919, our country was struggling with two watershed moments. For a year-and-a-half the world had been engulfed by a devastating pandemic called the “Spanish Flu”; it would continue to infect communities for another year. In addition, the so-called Great War had just ended. Over five million soldiers were returning from abroad. They were seeking jobs that did not exist.
380,000 of those were African American. They too had borne the sacrifices of warfare for their country. They too expected its rights and benefits. W. E. B. Dubois, among others, urged them to continue their fight for democracy at home. But sadly, there were lynchings, church burnings and rampant anti-Black violence across the country.
This became known as “Red Summer”. Historians estimate that a thousand or more African Americans were killed before the violence subsided. Our country was caught in the clash of hope and threat, Time Magazine reported, between new dreams and entangled fears. This is the context for the poem you’re about to hear.
“If we must die” was written by Claude McKay, a central figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Jamaica-born, McKay was a novelist and poet of African descent. He blended his African pride with his love for British poetry. This is one of his most famous poems. He wrote it in the form of a Shakespearean sonnet. It speaks to the desperation felt among African Americans everywhere during “Red Summer”.
C. T. Vivian of blessed memory is the reader here. He was one of the primary architects of the non-violent civil rights movement that also gave us Dr. King, John Lewis, Joseph Lowery, James Reeb, Andrew Young and so many others. This poem from 1919 took on new meaning for them as they marched in the 1960’s. It continues to inspire those who struggle for justice today.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursèd lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
Benediction by John Lewis
The following words are taken from a longer “final essay” written by John Lewis shortly before he died.
Though I may not be here with you, I urge you
to answer the highest calling of your heart
and stand up for what you truly believe.
In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace,
the way of love and nonviolence,
is the more excellent way.
Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.
When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century,
let them say that it was your generation
who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last
and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war.
So I say to you,
walk with the wind, brothers and sisters.
Let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.
What Wasn't Said:
Lessons my mother couldn’t teach me.
Excerpt from the book, Waking up White by Debby Irving.
“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO ALL THE INDIANS?” I asked my mother on a Friday morning ride home from the library. I was five years old.
The library’s main draw for me had always been a large, colorful mural located high on the lobby wall. It featured three feathered and fringed Indians standing with four colonial men on a lush, green lakeshore. The colonists didn’t hold much interest, perhaps because these were images familiar to me, a white New England girl with colonial ancestors. The dark-skinned Indians and their “exotic” dress, on the other hand, took my breath away.
Lying on my bedroom floor back at home, I had pored over the images from a book on Indian life. Colorful illustrations of teepees clustered close together, horses being ridden bareback, and food being cooked over the campfire added to my romanticized imaginings of the Indian life. Children and grown-ups appeared to live in an intergenerational world in which boundaries between work and play blurred.
Eventually, my infatuation led to curiosity. If I had descended from colonists, there must be kids who’d descended from Indians, right? I wondered if there was a place I could go meet them, which is what led me that Friday morning to ask the simple question, “Whatever happened to all the Indians?”
“Oh, those poor Indians,” my mother said, sagging a little as she shook her head with something that looked like sadness.
“Why? What happened?” I turned in my seat, alarmed.
“They drank too much,” she answered. My heart sank. “They were lovely people,” she said, “who became dangerous when they drank liquor.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. Dangerous? This would have been the last word I would have applied to my horseback-riding, nature-loving friends.
“Dangerous from drinking?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s so sad. They just couldn’t handle it, and it ruined them really.”
This made no sense to me. My parents drank liquor. Some friends and family drank quite a bit actually. How could something like liquor bring down an entire people? People who loved grass and trees and lakes and horses, the stuff I love?
My mother went on to tell a tale in vivid detail about children hiding under a staircase, in pitch blackness, trying to escape the ravages of their local friendly Indian now on a drunken rampage, ax in hand. They were all murdered.
“Well, what happened to the Indian?” I asked, my heart beating in my chest.
She paused, thinking. “You know, I don’t know,” my mother answered sincerely.
I never questioned this narrative’s truth or fullness despite its dissonance with the peaceful images in my books. My mother was warm, compassionate, and bright. She told me the versions of events as she knew them, errors and omissions included. Just as she had once done, I used my scant information to construct a story about humanity. Over the course of my childhood the media confirmed my idea of Indians as “savage” and “dangerous.” I came to see them as drunks who grunted, whooped, yelled, and painted their faces to scare and scalp white people. What a tragedy that over time my natural curiosity, open mind, and loving heart dulled, keeping me from confronting wrongs I never knew existed.
Lessons my mother couldn’t teach me.
Excerpt from the book, Waking up White by Debby Irving.
“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO ALL THE INDIANS?” I asked my mother on a Friday morning ride home from the library. I was five years old.
The library’s main draw for me had always been a large, colorful mural located high on the lobby wall. It featured three feathered and fringed Indians standing with four colonial men on a lush, green lakeshore. The colonists didn’t hold much interest, perhaps because these were images familiar to me, a white New England girl with colonial ancestors. The dark-skinned Indians and their “exotic” dress, on the other hand, took my breath away.
Lying on my bedroom floor back at home, I had pored over the images from a book on Indian life. Colorful illustrations of teepees clustered close together, horses being ridden bareback, and food being cooked over the campfire added to my romanticized imaginings of the Indian life. Children and grown-ups appeared to live in an intergenerational world in which boundaries between work and play blurred.
Eventually, my infatuation led to curiosity. If I had descended from colonists, there must be kids who’d descended from Indians, right? I wondered if there was a place I could go meet them, which is what led me that Friday morning to ask the simple question, “Whatever happened to all the Indians?”
“Oh, those poor Indians,” my mother said, sagging a little as she shook her head with something that looked like sadness.
“Why? What happened?” I turned in my seat, alarmed.
“They drank too much,” she answered. My heart sank. “They were lovely people,” she said, “who became dangerous when they drank liquor.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. Dangerous? This would have been the last word I would have applied to my horseback-riding, nature-loving friends.
“Dangerous from drinking?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s so sad. They just couldn’t handle it, and it ruined them really.”
This made no sense to me. My parents drank liquor. Some friends and family drank quite a bit actually. How could something like liquor bring down an entire people? People who loved grass and trees and lakes and horses, the stuff I love?
My mother went on to tell a tale in vivid detail about children hiding under a staircase, in pitch blackness, trying to escape the ravages of their local friendly Indian now on a drunken rampage, ax in hand. They were all murdered.
“Well, what happened to the Indian?” I asked, my heart beating in my chest.
She paused, thinking. “You know, I don’t know,” my mother answered sincerely.
I never questioned this narrative’s truth or fullness despite its dissonance with the peaceful images in my books. My mother was warm, compassionate, and bright. She told me the versions of events as she knew them, errors and omissions included. Just as she had once done, I used my scant information to construct a story about humanity. Over the course of my childhood the media confirmed my idea of Indians as “savage” and “dangerous.” I came to see them as drunks who grunted, whooped, yelled, and painted their faces to scare and scalp white people. What a tragedy that over time my natural curiosity, open mind, and loving heart dulled, keeping me from confronting wrongs I never knew existed.
Catherine Bonner
Talking to Strangers
Sermon by Catherine Bonner
Last year I gave a sermon on Don’t Label Me based on the book of the same name by Irshad Manji. In that sermon I discussed how it is our default to categorize and label people and in doing so we stop looking at the humanity of each individual. By labelling each other, it is easy to shame, blame and game groups of people. I encouraged you to reach out to those who do not look or think like you to start a conversation with them where you listened more than talked with an open heart and open mind to find common ground.
So now that you have talked with Strangers….
What? You aren’t talking with strangers?
Ok, I get that we are in a Pandemic right now but hang in there with me because this sermon is about talking to strangers AND trying to discern truth and there is a big finale at the end you won’t want to miss!
DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS! This is the kind of instruction you get at a very young age and it doesn’t usually come with much explanation. It’s just one of those universal truths that we seem to accept as law for all human beings. But why? Typical parental responses include: “We have to keep our children safe.” “Strangers are dangerous.” “Children are too trusting.”
While well-meaning, in teaching our children about “Stranger Danger” we are planting a culture of fear and distrust of “others”. Children often freeze when a neighbor walks down the sidewalk, or they refuse to talk. Out of parental fear, children no longer play like many of us did roaming the neighborhood in packs until dusk and dinner time. More restricted play limits a child’s ability to learn how to work-out problems, how to trust their own gut instincts on what is good and bad and how to stand up for themselves.
But the world is a scary place! That is true for children and adults but at some point in our life we have to learn to talk to strangers
But why is it so hard to talk to strangers? Is it just the embedded culture of fear? Is it that capitalism has trained us to sit in front of a screen being a consumer rather than being social with our neighbors? Is it that talking to a stranger makes us uncomfortable because we don’t know what they think or how they will respond to us? Will talking to them challenge your beliefs and ideals, two of the most important things you possess? It is comfortable only interacting with those we know or where we have anonymity.
But at one point, everyone you are comfortable with was a stranger; someone unknown to you. So what do we do to make sense of people we don’t know? In Malcolm Gladwell’s book, Talking to Strangers, he explores our “defaults” and how those tools and strategies do not always give us the right answer. He poses two puzzling questions: Why can’t we tell when the stranger in front of us is lying and how is it that meeting a stranger can sometimes make us worse at making sense of that person than NOT meeting them?
So let’s cover a few terms before going on. Truth Default Theory (TDT for short) is a relatively new theory put out by Timothy R. Levine, a professor and chair of communication studies at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. The basic idea of TDT is that when we communicate with other people, we not only tend to believe them, but the thought that maybe we shouldn’t does not even come to mind. This is a good thing for two reasons.
First, and most important, the truth-default is needed for communication to function. Just image what would happen to our social constructs if we did not believe anything that someone said or communicated to us. You know those people. The ones who are always skeptical about EVERYTHING? The clinical term that we all use for those individuals is paranoia. Second, most people are mostly honest most of the time. BUT, the truth-default does makes us vulnerable to deception.
“Transparency is the idea that people’s behavior and demeanor—the way they represent themselves on the outside—provides an authentic and reliable window into the way they feel on the inside. It is the second of the crucial tools we use to make sense of strangers. When we don’t know someone, or can’t communicate with them, or don’t have the time to understand them properly, we believe we can make sense of them through their behavior and demeanor.” This is how we have all been trained. He or she is lying if they avoid your gaze or are nervous, or sweat profusely. This person is a psychopath and must be guilty if they show no emotion or react coldly or out of context for a situation. Isn’t that what we see on the media? Malcolm Gladwell uses the term “mismatched” when a person’s demeanor and “cues” don’t meet the predetermined social norms
So back to Malcolm’s questions. Why can’t we tell when the stranger in front of us is lying? While many of us are not talking directly with strangers now the same question holds true for discerning misinformation, conspiracy theories, hoaxes, and scams on the Internet. In a famous experiment by Stanley Milgram in 1961 participants were “fooled” to think they were giving ever increasing shocks to “learners” for giving wrong answers. Here are the results of the experiment.
I fully believed the learner was getting painful shocks. 56.1%
Although I had some doubts, I believed the learner was probably getting the shocks. 24%
I just wasn’t sure whether the learner was getting the shocks or not. 6.1%
Although I had some doubts, I thought the learner was probably not getting the shocks 11.4%
I was certain the learner was not getting the shocks 2.4%
Remarkably, over 40% questioned the validity of the experiment but their doubts were just not enough to trigger them out of truth-default. This is Levine’s point. You believe someone not because you have no doubts about them but because you don’t have enough doubts about them. I imagine that each of us can think of a time where we believed something even when we had doubts.
How is it that meeting a stranger can sometimes make us worse at making sense of that person than NOT meeting them?
Evolutionarily, we have used transparency to judge strangers as a prelude to either the flight or fight response. So after so many millennia, why are we so bad at it? Like the TDT, most people’s behaviors and demeanors “match” the context of the situation but there are many “mismatched” people that throw us the curve. In Malcolm’s book, he uses the example of a judge who hears many bail cases daily. It is the judge’s habit to do a quick review of the case file, have the defendant appear before them and ask them questions. The judge is trying to glean from visual clues and the info in the file whether this person will commit another crime while out on bail. A study showed that a computer algorithm using only the data in the case file was much better able to predict those that would not commit a crime while out on bail versus the judge who is trying to “read” the situation. And there are many many more historical examples of where the visual clues did not “match” and decisions based on these false clues ended up disastrously.
Multiple studies show that people’s ability to detect lies is only slightly better than flipping a coin including those that have training in lie detecting! But what of those individuals whose job it is to talk to strangers and detect lies/truth every day? That would include our public safety, emergency medical personnel, and our justice and law enforcement personnel. For today though, I want to focus on our law enforcement personnel, society’s front line.
As I have personally journeyed down the path of becoming racially “woke”, I too echoed the cluelessness of Debby Irving in our early reading. I am a good person, racially aware, don’t see color, provide opportunities for people of color to become more “white” and over time my natural curiosity, open mind, and loving heart dulled, keeping me from confronting wrongs I never knew existed. When talking with my own children on “Stranger Danger” I always told them to be aware of their surroundings, to talk to strangers but be skeptical of motive, to use their gut instinct and find a person of authority such as the police if they needed help. Never did I imagine that people of color had a different talk with their children and that it happens almost daily. Never did I worry that my children might not come home nor did my children ever worry I might not come home. I would like to share with you a short video clip on what these conversations entail. (See below for the complete video)
That was just a piece of the video put together by The Cut on “The Talk.”
In Malcolm Gladwell’s book he uses the case of Sandra Bland, the black woman stopped in Texas in 2015 for not signaling a lane change as an example of why we fail disastrously when we use transparency to understand “mismatched” people. In this case with the death of Ms. Bland in the jail three days later.
As one of the parents in the video remarked, all the law enforcement officers were people first bringing their own biases, thoughts, and backgrounds to the job. This is true whether a person goes into the field because of a passion to protect and serve everyone, or a passion to protect the current system of white superiority as the status quo or simply for the power the role has. The system of white superiority has indoctrinated ALL of us whether directly in the case of out-right bigotry or more often subtly by the way we are taught our history or treat others differently because of the color of their skin or their culture. This indoctrination and constant gaslighting by our leaders that “racism” is no longer an issue since . . . .(you can fill in the blank although my favorite one is “we elected a black president”). This is a false narrative but many of us seem to believe it. Due to this gaslighting, too many well-minded “good” people feel that any attack on society’s systems by people of color is now a call to extinguish the white way of life and the white race which too is a false narrative. Even those who are outraged by the death of George Floyd still harbor doubts about the extent of racism because we have become comfortable with “not seeing”.
So what happened in the case of Sandra Bland? How did this encounter become so disastrous? Over the past 30 years we have trained our law enforcement to be more “militant” under the guise of the war on drugs. The Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution protects citizens from “unreasonable searches and seizures.” That’s why the police cannot search your home without a warrant or a police officer must have a “reasonable suspicion” to stop and frisk you. But if you’re in your car, the bar to meet that standard is very low because traffic codes in the U.S. give law enforcement literally hundreds of reasons to stop a motorist. Legal scholar David Harris writes, “And then there are catch-all provisions: rules that allow police to stop drivers for conduct that complies with all the rules on the books, but that officers consider “imprudent” or “unreasonable” under the circumstances, or that describe the offense in language so broad as to make a violation virtually coextensive with the officer’s unreviewable personal judgment.” And our courts have supported the officer’s power to make those decisions even if those decisions are wrong and have caused harm.
Officer Encinia who stopped Sandra Bland made routine traffic stops, indiscriminate of race, as the pretext to look for other illegal activity. He had gone through the standard police training. What was unusual was that he only used transparency to judge the guilt of a person and did not default to truth making him more paranoid about Ms. Bland’s “mismatched” reactions to the situation and convincing him from the start that she was guilty of something. Standard police training does include de-escalation techniques and bias training but clearly not enough since law enforcement officers repeatedly allow their personal bias and egos to override the training on de-escalation. The encounter between Officer Encinia and Ms Bland escalated out of control because she lit a cigarette to calm her nerves and refused to comply with his order to put out the cigarette which the officer legally cannot order. The confrontation ended up with Ms. Bland being literally dragged from the car, thrown to the ground, threatened with tazing, handcuffed and charged with third degree felony for assaulting the officer while resisting arrest. The back story that creates the mismatch in Ms. Bland’s demeanor includes a history of depression and suicide attempts and trauma from similar stops in Chicago where she was moving from to start a new life in Texas. In the three days she spent in jail before taking her own life, Sandra Bland was distraught, weeping constantly, making phone call after phone call. She was in crisis, yet, no one in the criminal justice department recognized the signs or did anything about it.
In the backlash to the death of George Floyd, there are cries to “Defund the Police” which is confused by many to mean eradicate all policing. During a workshop I recently attended, a black man stated that we NEED a police force to stop crimes especially hate crimes. But most of law enforcement calls today are not about crimes and fall into the category of domestic disputes and traffic violations. Social workers, behavior therapists and psychologists are trained hours and hours to learn how to recognize, understand, and help individuals that are in crisis (ie how to Talk to Strangers) by using context and coupling of visual clues which are much more reliable. Law Enforcement officers do NOT get that level of training. They are trained hours and hours on how to properly use and discharge weapons and often do not get that right.
For most, Defund the Police, is a call to rethink how we police, how we can redeploy the large law enforcement budgets to hiring social workers and those trained in helping people in crisis, and how law enforcement and social workers can partner together to reduce the amount of police violence, mass incarceration, and systemic racism in our policing and justice programs. Defund the Police will take all of us, and especially whites, to step up and partner with people of color, indigenous peoples and other marginalized groups to reform our systems. I encourage you to join our Social Justice Committee that meets monthly to see how you can become engaged in this fight. Check out our new Racial Justice pages that are being formed and shaped daily for additional information on education and activities you can participate in.
Sermon by Catherine Bonner
Last year I gave a sermon on Don’t Label Me based on the book of the same name by Irshad Manji. In that sermon I discussed how it is our default to categorize and label people and in doing so we stop looking at the humanity of each individual. By labelling each other, it is easy to shame, blame and game groups of people. I encouraged you to reach out to those who do not look or think like you to start a conversation with them where you listened more than talked with an open heart and open mind to find common ground.
So now that you have talked with Strangers….
What? You aren’t talking with strangers?
Ok, I get that we are in a Pandemic right now but hang in there with me because this sermon is about talking to strangers AND trying to discern truth and there is a big finale at the end you won’t want to miss!
DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS! This is the kind of instruction you get at a very young age and it doesn’t usually come with much explanation. It’s just one of those universal truths that we seem to accept as law for all human beings. But why? Typical parental responses include: “We have to keep our children safe.” “Strangers are dangerous.” “Children are too trusting.”
While well-meaning, in teaching our children about “Stranger Danger” we are planting a culture of fear and distrust of “others”. Children often freeze when a neighbor walks down the sidewalk, or they refuse to talk. Out of parental fear, children no longer play like many of us did roaming the neighborhood in packs until dusk and dinner time. More restricted play limits a child’s ability to learn how to work-out problems, how to trust their own gut instincts on what is good and bad and how to stand up for themselves.
But the world is a scary place! That is true for children and adults but at some point in our life we have to learn to talk to strangers
But why is it so hard to talk to strangers? Is it just the embedded culture of fear? Is it that capitalism has trained us to sit in front of a screen being a consumer rather than being social with our neighbors? Is it that talking to a stranger makes us uncomfortable because we don’t know what they think or how they will respond to us? Will talking to them challenge your beliefs and ideals, two of the most important things you possess? It is comfortable only interacting with those we know or where we have anonymity.
But at one point, everyone you are comfortable with was a stranger; someone unknown to you. So what do we do to make sense of people we don’t know? In Malcolm Gladwell’s book, Talking to Strangers, he explores our “defaults” and how those tools and strategies do not always give us the right answer. He poses two puzzling questions: Why can’t we tell when the stranger in front of us is lying and how is it that meeting a stranger can sometimes make us worse at making sense of that person than NOT meeting them?
So let’s cover a few terms before going on. Truth Default Theory (TDT for short) is a relatively new theory put out by Timothy R. Levine, a professor and chair of communication studies at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. The basic idea of TDT is that when we communicate with other people, we not only tend to believe them, but the thought that maybe we shouldn’t does not even come to mind. This is a good thing for two reasons.
First, and most important, the truth-default is needed for communication to function. Just image what would happen to our social constructs if we did not believe anything that someone said or communicated to us. You know those people. The ones who are always skeptical about EVERYTHING? The clinical term that we all use for those individuals is paranoia. Second, most people are mostly honest most of the time. BUT, the truth-default does makes us vulnerable to deception.
“Transparency is the idea that people’s behavior and demeanor—the way they represent themselves on the outside—provides an authentic and reliable window into the way they feel on the inside. It is the second of the crucial tools we use to make sense of strangers. When we don’t know someone, or can’t communicate with them, or don’t have the time to understand them properly, we believe we can make sense of them through their behavior and demeanor.” This is how we have all been trained. He or she is lying if they avoid your gaze or are nervous, or sweat profusely. This person is a psychopath and must be guilty if they show no emotion or react coldly or out of context for a situation. Isn’t that what we see on the media? Malcolm Gladwell uses the term “mismatched” when a person’s demeanor and “cues” don’t meet the predetermined social norms
So back to Malcolm’s questions. Why can’t we tell when the stranger in front of us is lying? While many of us are not talking directly with strangers now the same question holds true for discerning misinformation, conspiracy theories, hoaxes, and scams on the Internet. In a famous experiment by Stanley Milgram in 1961 participants were “fooled” to think they were giving ever increasing shocks to “learners” for giving wrong answers. Here are the results of the experiment.
I fully believed the learner was getting painful shocks. 56.1%
Although I had some doubts, I believed the learner was probably getting the shocks. 24%
I just wasn’t sure whether the learner was getting the shocks or not. 6.1%
Although I had some doubts, I thought the learner was probably not getting the shocks 11.4%
I was certain the learner was not getting the shocks 2.4%
Remarkably, over 40% questioned the validity of the experiment but their doubts were just not enough to trigger them out of truth-default. This is Levine’s point. You believe someone not because you have no doubts about them but because you don’t have enough doubts about them. I imagine that each of us can think of a time where we believed something even when we had doubts.
How is it that meeting a stranger can sometimes make us worse at making sense of that person than NOT meeting them?
Evolutionarily, we have used transparency to judge strangers as a prelude to either the flight or fight response. So after so many millennia, why are we so bad at it? Like the TDT, most people’s behaviors and demeanors “match” the context of the situation but there are many “mismatched” people that throw us the curve. In Malcolm’s book, he uses the example of a judge who hears many bail cases daily. It is the judge’s habit to do a quick review of the case file, have the defendant appear before them and ask them questions. The judge is trying to glean from visual clues and the info in the file whether this person will commit another crime while out on bail. A study showed that a computer algorithm using only the data in the case file was much better able to predict those that would not commit a crime while out on bail versus the judge who is trying to “read” the situation. And there are many many more historical examples of where the visual clues did not “match” and decisions based on these false clues ended up disastrously.
Multiple studies show that people’s ability to detect lies is only slightly better than flipping a coin including those that have training in lie detecting! But what of those individuals whose job it is to talk to strangers and detect lies/truth every day? That would include our public safety, emergency medical personnel, and our justice and law enforcement personnel. For today though, I want to focus on our law enforcement personnel, society’s front line.
As I have personally journeyed down the path of becoming racially “woke”, I too echoed the cluelessness of Debby Irving in our early reading. I am a good person, racially aware, don’t see color, provide opportunities for people of color to become more “white” and over time my natural curiosity, open mind, and loving heart dulled, keeping me from confronting wrongs I never knew existed. When talking with my own children on “Stranger Danger” I always told them to be aware of their surroundings, to talk to strangers but be skeptical of motive, to use their gut instinct and find a person of authority such as the police if they needed help. Never did I imagine that people of color had a different talk with their children and that it happens almost daily. Never did I worry that my children might not come home nor did my children ever worry I might not come home. I would like to share with you a short video clip on what these conversations entail. (See below for the complete video)
That was just a piece of the video put together by The Cut on “The Talk.”
In Malcolm Gladwell’s book he uses the case of Sandra Bland, the black woman stopped in Texas in 2015 for not signaling a lane change as an example of why we fail disastrously when we use transparency to understand “mismatched” people. In this case with the death of Ms. Bland in the jail three days later.
As one of the parents in the video remarked, all the law enforcement officers were people first bringing their own biases, thoughts, and backgrounds to the job. This is true whether a person goes into the field because of a passion to protect and serve everyone, or a passion to protect the current system of white superiority as the status quo or simply for the power the role has. The system of white superiority has indoctrinated ALL of us whether directly in the case of out-right bigotry or more often subtly by the way we are taught our history or treat others differently because of the color of their skin or their culture. This indoctrination and constant gaslighting by our leaders that “racism” is no longer an issue since . . . .(you can fill in the blank although my favorite one is “we elected a black president”). This is a false narrative but many of us seem to believe it. Due to this gaslighting, too many well-minded “good” people feel that any attack on society’s systems by people of color is now a call to extinguish the white way of life and the white race which too is a false narrative. Even those who are outraged by the death of George Floyd still harbor doubts about the extent of racism because we have become comfortable with “not seeing”.
So what happened in the case of Sandra Bland? How did this encounter become so disastrous? Over the past 30 years we have trained our law enforcement to be more “militant” under the guise of the war on drugs. The Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution protects citizens from “unreasonable searches and seizures.” That’s why the police cannot search your home without a warrant or a police officer must have a “reasonable suspicion” to stop and frisk you. But if you’re in your car, the bar to meet that standard is very low because traffic codes in the U.S. give law enforcement literally hundreds of reasons to stop a motorist. Legal scholar David Harris writes, “And then there are catch-all provisions: rules that allow police to stop drivers for conduct that complies with all the rules on the books, but that officers consider “imprudent” or “unreasonable” under the circumstances, or that describe the offense in language so broad as to make a violation virtually coextensive with the officer’s unreviewable personal judgment.” And our courts have supported the officer’s power to make those decisions even if those decisions are wrong and have caused harm.
Officer Encinia who stopped Sandra Bland made routine traffic stops, indiscriminate of race, as the pretext to look for other illegal activity. He had gone through the standard police training. What was unusual was that he only used transparency to judge the guilt of a person and did not default to truth making him more paranoid about Ms. Bland’s “mismatched” reactions to the situation and convincing him from the start that she was guilty of something. Standard police training does include de-escalation techniques and bias training but clearly not enough since law enforcement officers repeatedly allow their personal bias and egos to override the training on de-escalation. The encounter between Officer Encinia and Ms Bland escalated out of control because she lit a cigarette to calm her nerves and refused to comply with his order to put out the cigarette which the officer legally cannot order. The confrontation ended up with Ms. Bland being literally dragged from the car, thrown to the ground, threatened with tazing, handcuffed and charged with third degree felony for assaulting the officer while resisting arrest. The back story that creates the mismatch in Ms. Bland’s demeanor includes a history of depression and suicide attempts and trauma from similar stops in Chicago where she was moving from to start a new life in Texas. In the three days she spent in jail before taking her own life, Sandra Bland was distraught, weeping constantly, making phone call after phone call. She was in crisis, yet, no one in the criminal justice department recognized the signs or did anything about it.
In the backlash to the death of George Floyd, there are cries to “Defund the Police” which is confused by many to mean eradicate all policing. During a workshop I recently attended, a black man stated that we NEED a police force to stop crimes especially hate crimes. But most of law enforcement calls today are not about crimes and fall into the category of domestic disputes and traffic violations. Social workers, behavior therapists and psychologists are trained hours and hours to learn how to recognize, understand, and help individuals that are in crisis (ie how to Talk to Strangers) by using context and coupling of visual clues which are much more reliable. Law Enforcement officers do NOT get that level of training. They are trained hours and hours on how to properly use and discharge weapons and often do not get that right.
For most, Defund the Police, is a call to rethink how we police, how we can redeploy the large law enforcement budgets to hiring social workers and those trained in helping people in crisis, and how law enforcement and social workers can partner together to reduce the amount of police violence, mass incarceration, and systemic racism in our policing and justice programs. Defund the Police will take all of us, and especially whites, to step up and partner with people of color, indigenous peoples and other marginalized groups to reform our systems. I encourage you to join our Social Justice Committee that meets monthly to see how you can become engaged in this fight. Check out our new Racial Justice pages that are being formed and shaped daily for additional information on education and activities you can participate in.
Video referred to during sermon: Closing hymn:
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Script for This Little Light of Mine service July 5, 2020
Greetings and welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota virtual service. My name is Mary Lou Casadevall-Keller, I have been a member here since 2004, and I’m now part of the worship committee that coordinates services when our ministers are away. This is the first of our 2020 summer services. It is the tradition in many UU churches for the ministers to have some portion of the summer off for study and reflection, often in July after the General Assembly. In studying the history of the congregation I learned that we didn’t have summer services here in Sarasota until 1980. This ministerial break provides an opportunity for diverse lay led services such as this one.
I have Doug and Sandy Caldwell here filming me, and we are social distancing and have all been self-isolating. Thanks to Doug and Klaus Obermeit for all production work they’ve done before and during this pandemic. Also Don Bryn, Robert Lischetti, and Fred Sirasky, plus guest musicians, have provided wonderful music for us to enjoy. And Beth and Budd have comforted and enlightened us in a format they probably never dreamed of using. These past services are available online and I encourage you to watch one when you are feeling nostalgic for church. The Forum has been fantastic thanks to Marie Keeney and her crew. Catherine Bonner has kept the religious education program vibrant and inclusive. A special shout out to our board and the essential committees that are finding new ways to do business. Thanks to all who are keeping this beloved community going during the lockdown, including our Garden Crew shown here (photo of Garden crew).
Also, please do join the Zoom social conversations you see listed on the website and in our newsletter, even as a guest. Introverts and extroverts alike are accommodated, and I always leave feeling more connected. Call the office if you need help with Zoom. Committees are still meeting online, and welcome new members. If you are feeling down and would like someone to check in with you, there is a caring team that would be glad to make your acquaintance. We have a church Facebook group to keep us up to date, and members are ready to help each other in these extraordinary times.
Our virtual doors are open, you are welcome here.
Lighting the chalice.
100 years ago this summer, women earned the right to vote here in United States after over seventy years of protests, rallies, petitions and struggles. We light this chalice to honor their sacrifices and thank them for the freedoms we enjoy. Remember to get out the vote this year.
https://www.uuthevote.org/
Please join me as we covenant to affirm and promote our fifth principal, the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.
Please join Robert Lischetti now in singing The Fire of Commitment.
I had planned to speak on resilience and how we can bounce back more quickly from adversity, but there are a thousand articles on the topic that might speak to your personal situation, and I was uncertain what I could say that would be relevant in these fast changing times. During my research for music for the service, I found the first known recording of This Little Light of Mine and it blew my mind.
A couple named John and Ruth Lomax traveled the country on behalf of the Library of Congress and recorded folk performances. In May 1939, they visited a woman’s prison in Huntsville Texas and recorded Doris McMurray singing This Little Light of Mine, a song she learned from her grandmother.
When I was 12 years old, my music teacher encouraged me to sing a solo for our seventh grade recital. I loved to sing and gladly said yes, but I was nervous. The song was This Little Light of Mine, and the moment was pivotal for me. I don’t know that I was ever shy, but singing in public and hearing people’s compliments gave me a burst of confidence.
When I heard Doris McMurray’s singing, the contrast between her life and mine struck me viscerally. She was a black woman in prison, and I was a white girl in an ivory tower. My family was broadminded, but I had no black acquaintances. As far as I know, Doris may not have had any white friends. I ached at the unfairness of the disparity in our life circumstances.
But, Doris and I have something in common. We have both sung an iconic song often and with genuine emotion. That thread of emotion connects us across the ages, and I hope that her performance had an equally positive effect on her life. I invite you to say her name, Doris McMurray, as we listen to her historic recording.
Library of Congress recording
https://www.loc.gov/item/afc1939001.afc1939001_02648b1/
This little light of mine, how can I let it shine? This is a time when our resilience is being tested – how much bad news, alone time, boredom, fear, and chaos can we handle? Change is never easy – and we’re all being tested to the max right now in that regard – but change is easier when we have self-confidence and support. If you feel that your spirit has been dimmed and you need more support to let your light shine, please do reach out. Our ministers may not be in the office, but they are available if you need them, and a caring team member is always ready and willing to help.
I’ve been on Zoom calls with some of you, and overall our church members seem to be doing pretty well so far. We’ve accepted the reality of the pandemic, considered our options, and we’re solving problems as we face them. I’ve been impressed by how flexible and resourceful we are being. People are Zooming with their families, taking classes online, writing letters encouraging people to vote, teaching English as a second language, playing virtual mah-jongg and bridge, walking the beach and shopping early in the morning, and beating the heat as best we can. Dana and I even cleaned out our garage.
There is a sense of profound gratitude for the affluence most of us enjoy, frustration at not being able to see our families and friends in person, and sorrow over the lost opportunities to volunteer, protest, and travel. This is an opportunity for us to embrace new modes of communication and creative outlets, to deepen our local connections. I know that Dana and I are speaking to our sons more than we ever have, and that almost makes up for not seeing them in person. We even exchanged hand sanitizer for toilet paper with our neighbors, a unique bonding experience.
The common refrain in many of our church conversations on Zoom is how much we miss the church itself, so I thought I would take this opportunity to show you around the main campus and refresh your memories about the people who have impacted our congregation and our denomination. Also, we have a new interim minister starting in August, and I thought this could be an introductory welcoming tour for Rev. Wadkins as well.
Welcome Rev. Wadkins - we look forward to getting to know you.
Since I’m in the sanctuary, I’ll start here. Our Sarasota Unitarian congregation was started in 1951 by a group of freethinkers led by Steve Steinecke, with Irving and Phyllis Vendig the first to respond. There is a short history of the congregation on our website and I encourage you to read it. We all owe a great debt to the people who invested so much time and energy to create a liberal religious presence here on the Florida Gulf Coast. http://www.uusarasota.com/docs/2002FiftiethAnnivBooklet.pdf
Steve died in 1957, but he left a bequest to build a sanctuary, as long as it was done within five years. The Rosenbaum’s offered a plot of land on Fruitville Road, a prime location. This lit a fire under church members and the sanctuary was built in 1962, using a design by the Sarasota School of Architecture.
The stained-glass windows are by renowned artist Syd Solomon. His wife said it was his best work, and I know it brings many of us a great deal of joy on Sunday mornings to watch the sun dance through the colorful glass.
The flaming chalice on our chancel was built by Walt Billings, and he and his wife Nan were vital members here for many years.
In courtyard outside sanctuary
After our services, Unitarian Universalist enjoy a tradition called coffee hour, whether you drink coffee or not, where we mingle in the courtyard and the Lexow Wing. Children and families often congregate on the playground. This is where many of our social connections are made. Growing up Catholic, I never knew anyone at my church, other than youth group. That’s not the case here, and I’m grateful for the congenial companionship on Sunday mornings. Of course, a great deal of church business takes place here too.
Another tradition in Unitarian Universalist congregations is to name our rooms after important people in our denomination and congregation. This first room is named after James Reeb, a white Unitarian minister and lifelong social activist who was murdered in Selma in 1965, leaving behind a wife and small children, and enraging a nation and the world. His death was one of the many steppingstones in the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1965. http://archive.uuworld.org/2001/02/feature2.pdf
This room had been the Thomas Jefferson Room until a few years ago when we renamed it because Thomas Jefferson was not a Unitarian or Universalist, he only claimed affinity for Unitarianism and predicted it would be the evolution of all religions. His being a slave owner made many of us uncomfortable honoring him in such a visible way. The popular Sunday morning topical Forum that precedes our service is held in this room, as well many other church and community activities. The Forum has continued on Zoom, and speakers are coming from around the country. I encourage you to attend.
This is the teen room, named after Clara Barton. She was best known as the founder of the American Red Cross after the Civil War, but I urge you to read her biography, as she was a fascinating, forceful woman. She was the first female patent clerk in 1855, earning the same salary as men, which was scandalous. She used her organizational and self-taught nursing skills to save countless lives during the Civil War and became known as the Florence Nightingale of America. (By the way, Florence Nightingale was another Unitarian.)
In front of Lexow Wing
Robert Lexow was president of our congregation in 1959 as we were acquiring land and conducting the capital campaign to build a sanctuary. He took out a $50,000 annuity when he was president with the congregation as beneficiary and when he died at the age of 90, he surprised us with $270,000. So we thank Robert Lexow for shining his light our way with both his time and efforts, and his financial resources.
On playground
Sherry Penney and Jim Livingston were members of this congregation and they died tragically last year in a carbon monoxide poisoning. Sherry and Jim both had noteworthy careers, Sherry as Chancellor of the University of Massachusetts in Boston, among many other inspiring accomplishments, and Jim as a beloved professor at MIT, and they were leading vibrant lives in retirement. I knew her as a fellow author, and a lovely, visionary woman. Thanks to Sherry and Jim’s noteworthy life accomplishments, foresight, and generosity, we have the funds to create a safe and inclusive playground that will last decades. We’re making progress; we’ve torn down the old wooden structure.
If any of you don’t have a carbon monoxide detector in your house, please get one. They are cheap and easy to install - just plug them in. They are also now required by Florida State law.
Also, please reach out to your representative and tell them to support the "PARK IT" Act, which stands for "Protecting Americans from the Risks of Keyless Ignition Technology." The bill would require vehicles to shut off automatically after a certain length of time, and would prevent cars from rolling over drivers when the park button doesn’t work. It seems strange that we would require such basic safety legislation, but the government business dynamic is often baffling. You can reach out to Sherry‘s son Michael Penney for more information. I will provide a link to the legislation in the written version of my sermon on our website.
https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/116/s543
Our playground committee continues to meet by Zoom, please let me know if you are interested in joining our efforts. We particularly need someone who can make detailed drawings of our ideas.
By West Wing
This wing is used mostly by the children’s programs, but there are classes and meetings throughout the week here. Susan B Anthony and Olympia Brown both worked tirelessly for women’s suffrage most of their lives. The 19th amendment gave women the vote and passed Congress in August 1920. Florida legislature refused to ratify the amendment until 1969, which comes as no real surprise to those of us who live here.
Susan B Anthony was born into a family of social justice activists and became one of the most famous people of her time, traveling full-time to spread her message of equal rights. She was arrested for voting in 1872 and the court case gripped the nation. When the 19th amendment was introduced to Congress in 1878, it was widely known as the Susan B Anthony amendment. Along with her dear friend Elizabeth Cady Stanton, another Unitarian, they forged a powerful path towards equality. Although she never saw the amendment pass, just a few days before her death she was honored at the White House and said "There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause — I wish I could name every one — but with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!" "Failure is impossible" quickly became a motto for the women's movement.
I think that’s an important thing for us to remember, failure is impossible when we band together. We will survive this pandemic, cross these racial divides, support each other through difficult times, because failure is not an option.
Rev. Olympia Brown was the first woman ordained by a national denomination when the Universalists accepted her petition in 1863, a hard-won fight for endorsement. During her first ministry, she met Susan B Anthony and joined the fight for women’s suffrage. She was one of the few first-generation suffragists who lived to vote in 1920, and she spent her final years as a peace activist.
Joseph Priestley was a renowned scientist and natural philosopher, and he was one of the founders of the Unitarian church in England in 1774. He was so controversial in England that he fled to America, where he helped spread Unitarianism.
Wave at staff in front of Lexow Wing, Director of Finance and Operations Roberta Druif, Director of Religious Education Catherine Bonner, and Administrative Assistant DeeWidder. Custodian Katherine Isabelle was shown with Garden Crew.
As you can imagine, maintaining this property and paying staff are large expenses, and we welcome all donations. You can click on the donate button on our website, or contact our office for details.
By Memorial Wall
This is our Memorial garden and the plaques on the Wall represent where people are buried. Here’s a short video of a few of the people no longer with us who have made a difference in our congregation. Please join me in singing Spirit of Life as we honor their memories. (Brief montage of garden and plaques with Spirit of Life audio.)
Back in sanctuary
I hope you have enjoyed this brief reflection on our congregation and denomination. In these turbulent times, may we draw some strength from those have gone before us and shown courage and commitment. On this Independence Day weekend, we know that this is our destiny – courage to forge a better life, and commitment to a better future for everyone. We all have a bright light inside of us, we need to let it shine.
I’m ending with another historic version of This Little Light of Mine, this one from the 2017 anti-racism protest in Charlottesville, Virginia where our then brand-new UUA President Reverend Susan Frederick Gray and other UU ministers, identifiable by the yellow stoles, answered a call with other clergy similar to that of James Reeb in 1965, to be a human shield against white supremacy. A Unitarian protester named Heather Heyer was killed in Charlottesville that weekend, so the threat was very real. Rev. Frederick Gray tells the story of how the ministers were smiling, but inside they were anxious and even fearful.
https://youtu.be/lyN2LeDlXzE
Charlottesville: This Little Light Of Mine
I invite you to sing-along at home, let your light shine, even if it’s in your living room. I hope it motivates you to call someone, or write a letter, or join a Zoom call. Never doubt that our lights are needed to light the path forward, even in sunny Florida.
Stay safe and well my friends. Let your light shine.
Greetings and welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota virtual service. My name is Mary Lou Casadevall-Keller, I have been a member here since 2004, and I’m now part of the worship committee that coordinates services when our ministers are away. This is the first of our 2020 summer services. It is the tradition in many UU churches for the ministers to have some portion of the summer off for study and reflection, often in July after the General Assembly. In studying the history of the congregation I learned that we didn’t have summer services here in Sarasota until 1980. This ministerial break provides an opportunity for diverse lay led services such as this one.
I have Doug and Sandy Caldwell here filming me, and we are social distancing and have all been self-isolating. Thanks to Doug and Klaus Obermeit for all production work they’ve done before and during this pandemic. Also Don Bryn, Robert Lischetti, and Fred Sirasky, plus guest musicians, have provided wonderful music for us to enjoy. And Beth and Budd have comforted and enlightened us in a format they probably never dreamed of using. These past services are available online and I encourage you to watch one when you are feeling nostalgic for church. The Forum has been fantastic thanks to Marie Keeney and her crew. Catherine Bonner has kept the religious education program vibrant and inclusive. A special shout out to our board and the essential committees that are finding new ways to do business. Thanks to all who are keeping this beloved community going during the lockdown, including our Garden Crew shown here (photo of Garden crew).
Also, please do join the Zoom social conversations you see listed on the website and in our newsletter, even as a guest. Introverts and extroverts alike are accommodated, and I always leave feeling more connected. Call the office if you need help with Zoom. Committees are still meeting online, and welcome new members. If you are feeling down and would like someone to check in with you, there is a caring team that would be glad to make your acquaintance. We have a church Facebook group to keep us up to date, and members are ready to help each other in these extraordinary times.
Our virtual doors are open, you are welcome here.
Lighting the chalice.
100 years ago this summer, women earned the right to vote here in United States after over seventy years of protests, rallies, petitions and struggles. We light this chalice to honor their sacrifices and thank them for the freedoms we enjoy. Remember to get out the vote this year.
https://www.uuthevote.org/
Please join me as we covenant to affirm and promote our fifth principal, the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.
Please join Robert Lischetti now in singing The Fire of Commitment.
I had planned to speak on resilience and how we can bounce back more quickly from adversity, but there are a thousand articles on the topic that might speak to your personal situation, and I was uncertain what I could say that would be relevant in these fast changing times. During my research for music for the service, I found the first known recording of This Little Light of Mine and it blew my mind.
A couple named John and Ruth Lomax traveled the country on behalf of the Library of Congress and recorded folk performances. In May 1939, they visited a woman’s prison in Huntsville Texas and recorded Doris McMurray singing This Little Light of Mine, a song she learned from her grandmother.
When I was 12 years old, my music teacher encouraged me to sing a solo for our seventh grade recital. I loved to sing and gladly said yes, but I was nervous. The song was This Little Light of Mine, and the moment was pivotal for me. I don’t know that I was ever shy, but singing in public and hearing people’s compliments gave me a burst of confidence.
When I heard Doris McMurray’s singing, the contrast between her life and mine struck me viscerally. She was a black woman in prison, and I was a white girl in an ivory tower. My family was broadminded, but I had no black acquaintances. As far as I know, Doris may not have had any white friends. I ached at the unfairness of the disparity in our life circumstances.
But, Doris and I have something in common. We have both sung an iconic song often and with genuine emotion. That thread of emotion connects us across the ages, and I hope that her performance had an equally positive effect on her life. I invite you to say her name, Doris McMurray, as we listen to her historic recording.
Library of Congress recording
https://www.loc.gov/item/afc1939001.afc1939001_02648b1/
This little light of mine, how can I let it shine? This is a time when our resilience is being tested – how much bad news, alone time, boredom, fear, and chaos can we handle? Change is never easy – and we’re all being tested to the max right now in that regard – but change is easier when we have self-confidence and support. If you feel that your spirit has been dimmed and you need more support to let your light shine, please do reach out. Our ministers may not be in the office, but they are available if you need them, and a caring team member is always ready and willing to help.
I’ve been on Zoom calls with some of you, and overall our church members seem to be doing pretty well so far. We’ve accepted the reality of the pandemic, considered our options, and we’re solving problems as we face them. I’ve been impressed by how flexible and resourceful we are being. People are Zooming with their families, taking classes online, writing letters encouraging people to vote, teaching English as a second language, playing virtual mah-jongg and bridge, walking the beach and shopping early in the morning, and beating the heat as best we can. Dana and I even cleaned out our garage.
There is a sense of profound gratitude for the affluence most of us enjoy, frustration at not being able to see our families and friends in person, and sorrow over the lost opportunities to volunteer, protest, and travel. This is an opportunity for us to embrace new modes of communication and creative outlets, to deepen our local connections. I know that Dana and I are speaking to our sons more than we ever have, and that almost makes up for not seeing them in person. We even exchanged hand sanitizer for toilet paper with our neighbors, a unique bonding experience.
The common refrain in many of our church conversations on Zoom is how much we miss the church itself, so I thought I would take this opportunity to show you around the main campus and refresh your memories about the people who have impacted our congregation and our denomination. Also, we have a new interim minister starting in August, and I thought this could be an introductory welcoming tour for Rev. Wadkins as well.
Welcome Rev. Wadkins - we look forward to getting to know you.
Since I’m in the sanctuary, I’ll start here. Our Sarasota Unitarian congregation was started in 1951 by a group of freethinkers led by Steve Steinecke, with Irving and Phyllis Vendig the first to respond. There is a short history of the congregation on our website and I encourage you to read it. We all owe a great debt to the people who invested so much time and energy to create a liberal religious presence here on the Florida Gulf Coast. http://www.uusarasota.com/docs/2002FiftiethAnnivBooklet.pdf
Steve died in 1957, but he left a bequest to build a sanctuary, as long as it was done within five years. The Rosenbaum’s offered a plot of land on Fruitville Road, a prime location. This lit a fire under church members and the sanctuary was built in 1962, using a design by the Sarasota School of Architecture.
The stained-glass windows are by renowned artist Syd Solomon. His wife said it was his best work, and I know it brings many of us a great deal of joy on Sunday mornings to watch the sun dance through the colorful glass.
The flaming chalice on our chancel was built by Walt Billings, and he and his wife Nan were vital members here for many years.
In courtyard outside sanctuary
After our services, Unitarian Universalist enjoy a tradition called coffee hour, whether you drink coffee or not, where we mingle in the courtyard and the Lexow Wing. Children and families often congregate on the playground. This is where many of our social connections are made. Growing up Catholic, I never knew anyone at my church, other than youth group. That’s not the case here, and I’m grateful for the congenial companionship on Sunday mornings. Of course, a great deal of church business takes place here too.
Another tradition in Unitarian Universalist congregations is to name our rooms after important people in our denomination and congregation. This first room is named after James Reeb, a white Unitarian minister and lifelong social activist who was murdered in Selma in 1965, leaving behind a wife and small children, and enraging a nation and the world. His death was one of the many steppingstones in the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1965. http://archive.uuworld.org/2001/02/feature2.pdf
This room had been the Thomas Jefferson Room until a few years ago when we renamed it because Thomas Jefferson was not a Unitarian or Universalist, he only claimed affinity for Unitarianism and predicted it would be the evolution of all religions. His being a slave owner made many of us uncomfortable honoring him in such a visible way. The popular Sunday morning topical Forum that precedes our service is held in this room, as well many other church and community activities. The Forum has continued on Zoom, and speakers are coming from around the country. I encourage you to attend.
This is the teen room, named after Clara Barton. She was best known as the founder of the American Red Cross after the Civil War, but I urge you to read her biography, as she was a fascinating, forceful woman. She was the first female patent clerk in 1855, earning the same salary as men, which was scandalous. She used her organizational and self-taught nursing skills to save countless lives during the Civil War and became known as the Florence Nightingale of America. (By the way, Florence Nightingale was another Unitarian.)
In front of Lexow Wing
Robert Lexow was president of our congregation in 1959 as we were acquiring land and conducting the capital campaign to build a sanctuary. He took out a $50,000 annuity when he was president with the congregation as beneficiary and when he died at the age of 90, he surprised us with $270,000. So we thank Robert Lexow for shining his light our way with both his time and efforts, and his financial resources.
On playground
Sherry Penney and Jim Livingston were members of this congregation and they died tragically last year in a carbon monoxide poisoning. Sherry and Jim both had noteworthy careers, Sherry as Chancellor of the University of Massachusetts in Boston, among many other inspiring accomplishments, and Jim as a beloved professor at MIT, and they were leading vibrant lives in retirement. I knew her as a fellow author, and a lovely, visionary woman. Thanks to Sherry and Jim’s noteworthy life accomplishments, foresight, and generosity, we have the funds to create a safe and inclusive playground that will last decades. We’re making progress; we’ve torn down the old wooden structure.
If any of you don’t have a carbon monoxide detector in your house, please get one. They are cheap and easy to install - just plug them in. They are also now required by Florida State law.
Also, please reach out to your representative and tell them to support the "PARK IT" Act, which stands for "Protecting Americans from the Risks of Keyless Ignition Technology." The bill would require vehicles to shut off automatically after a certain length of time, and would prevent cars from rolling over drivers when the park button doesn’t work. It seems strange that we would require such basic safety legislation, but the government business dynamic is often baffling. You can reach out to Sherry‘s son Michael Penney for more information. I will provide a link to the legislation in the written version of my sermon on our website.
https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/116/s543
Our playground committee continues to meet by Zoom, please let me know if you are interested in joining our efforts. We particularly need someone who can make detailed drawings of our ideas.
By West Wing
This wing is used mostly by the children’s programs, but there are classes and meetings throughout the week here. Susan B Anthony and Olympia Brown both worked tirelessly for women’s suffrage most of their lives. The 19th amendment gave women the vote and passed Congress in August 1920. Florida legislature refused to ratify the amendment until 1969, which comes as no real surprise to those of us who live here.
Susan B Anthony was born into a family of social justice activists and became one of the most famous people of her time, traveling full-time to spread her message of equal rights. She was arrested for voting in 1872 and the court case gripped the nation. When the 19th amendment was introduced to Congress in 1878, it was widely known as the Susan B Anthony amendment. Along with her dear friend Elizabeth Cady Stanton, another Unitarian, they forged a powerful path towards equality. Although she never saw the amendment pass, just a few days before her death she was honored at the White House and said "There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause — I wish I could name every one — but with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!" "Failure is impossible" quickly became a motto for the women's movement.
I think that’s an important thing for us to remember, failure is impossible when we band together. We will survive this pandemic, cross these racial divides, support each other through difficult times, because failure is not an option.
Rev. Olympia Brown was the first woman ordained by a national denomination when the Universalists accepted her petition in 1863, a hard-won fight for endorsement. During her first ministry, she met Susan B Anthony and joined the fight for women’s suffrage. She was one of the few first-generation suffragists who lived to vote in 1920, and she spent her final years as a peace activist.
Joseph Priestley was a renowned scientist and natural philosopher, and he was one of the founders of the Unitarian church in England in 1774. He was so controversial in England that he fled to America, where he helped spread Unitarianism.
Wave at staff in front of Lexow Wing, Director of Finance and Operations Roberta Druif, Director of Religious Education Catherine Bonner, and Administrative Assistant DeeWidder. Custodian Katherine Isabelle was shown with Garden Crew.
As you can imagine, maintaining this property and paying staff are large expenses, and we welcome all donations. You can click on the donate button on our website, or contact our office for details.
By Memorial Wall
This is our Memorial garden and the plaques on the Wall represent where people are buried. Here’s a short video of a few of the people no longer with us who have made a difference in our congregation. Please join me in singing Spirit of Life as we honor their memories. (Brief montage of garden and plaques with Spirit of Life audio.)
Back in sanctuary
I hope you have enjoyed this brief reflection on our congregation and denomination. In these turbulent times, may we draw some strength from those have gone before us and shown courage and commitment. On this Independence Day weekend, we know that this is our destiny – courage to forge a better life, and commitment to a better future for everyone. We all have a bright light inside of us, we need to let it shine.
I’m ending with another historic version of This Little Light of Mine, this one from the 2017 anti-racism protest in Charlottesville, Virginia where our then brand-new UUA President Reverend Susan Frederick Gray and other UU ministers, identifiable by the yellow stoles, answered a call with other clergy similar to that of James Reeb in 1965, to be a human shield against white supremacy. A Unitarian protester named Heather Heyer was killed in Charlottesville that weekend, so the threat was very real. Rev. Frederick Gray tells the story of how the ministers were smiling, but inside they were anxious and even fearful.
https://youtu.be/lyN2LeDlXzE
Charlottesville: This Little Light Of Mine
I invite you to sing-along at home, let your light shine, even if it’s in your living room. I hope it motivates you to call someone, or write a letter, or join a Zoom call. Never doubt that our lights are needed to light the path forward, even in sunny Florida.
Stay safe and well my friends. Let your light shine.
Unitarian Universalism's 2nd Source: Prophetic Words and Deeds
The Reverend Beth Miller
June 14, 2020
Ive been talking recently about the six sources of our Unitarian Universalist faith. Today I want to tell you about the 2nd source: Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love.
I can think of no better time to lift up this source for our consideration. We’ve seen countless people of all races and ages throughout the world confront the powers and structures of the evil that is racism and White supremacy in the past two weeks. This isn’t something new. These powers and structures of evil have been the bedrock of our country since its very beginning.
No wonder there is Black Rage. No wonder it has erupted powerfully in these days. Holy, and sacred, Black Rage, Tyler Coles prays, be ever present in our struggle for liberation, in our work to be, to love, to exist.
Perhaps it’s the bone-weariness of the boldest and most blatant expressions of racism in America, so frequently unleashed by the President. Maybe it’s the growing economic disparity, making it harder and harder for those on the lower end of the income scale to survive, much less thrive in this country. Maybe it’s the disproportionate affects of the Pandemic on people of color. These things and more may have contributed.
But it’s the killing of George Floyd that has set the world on fire. George Floyd, the unintended hero in this story, is one more in a long, long line of Black people unjustly killed by police. This time it was caught on video by a very brave young woman showing us a clear case of unapologetic murder by police.
And this time, I hope and pray, that this fire is fueled by more than Black Rage. I pray that a critical mass of righteous outrage across racial lines and all kinds of diversities, even some political, continues to stand in solidarity with Black Rage as it has these last two weeks. I pray that this time the fire is too great to be doused out by complacent inaction. This time, I pray that we, the American people, will confront this evil and dismantle the racism that plagues us.
How do we proceed? We cannot turn away, but what do we do? How do we even think about it? Let’s look for a few minutes at the idea of prophets and their challenges to us as Unitarian Universalists. There are many modern day prophets out there telling us what we can do. How do we evaluate their advice for ourselves? We each have our own perspectives. And we have our own capabilities, physically, mentally and emotionally.
I’ll repeat the source statement: Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love. That’s a mouthful , I know, and it doesn’t tell us what to do. Prophetic words and deeds challenges us, and we must each decide for ourselves how we will confront the evil before us.
What does it mean to be a prophet? We’re probably most familiar with the biblical prophets of old. In ancient Israel a ‘prophet’ was one chosen to declare a message, and the prophet spoke with the authority of the one who sent the message.
Old Testament prophets usually began their prophecies with, Thus saith the Lord . . . It was understood among the Israelites that what followed was indeed a message from God. The role of prophecy in ancient Israel was to rail against injustice or immorality and to implore the people to change their ways. It was a reminder of who they were at their best, intended to inspire them to return to right relations with the community and harmony with God.
Our contemporary liberal religious understanding of prophesy is suspicious of the idea of prophets as literal messengers of God. Some preachers still deliver what they believe to be messages directly from God, but most clergy in today's world, and certainly Unitarian Universalist preachers, don’t believe God’s dictating instructions through us. You would likely send me packing if I started a sermon with “thus saith the Lord.”
Modern day prophets who’s prophecies we would pay attention to are more likely to look to the signs of the times, consider the beliefs and values of their religion, and proclaim the disparity between the way things are and what’s right in their understanding. That’s not as exciting as Thus saith the Lord .. . but it’s more credible to our modern way of seeking truth.
The 2nd source says words and deeds of prophetic women and men that challenge us... It’s not enough to just admire or appreciate prophecy. This encourages us to react by seriously considering the challenge and, if we deem it worthy, taking it up however we can.
And next, these words and deeds then, challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil. It’s not enough to simply be mentally challenged, to think about it, or to be emotionally challenged, to feel sorry or sad or angry about injustice. More than that, we’re supposed to confront, to in some way take on the powers and structures of evil.
This Unitarian Universalism stuff is getting harder now. And this isn’t the end of it, either. We are further instructed to confront the powers and structures of evil in a specific way, with a particular mind set ... with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love.
Confrontation is pretty easy, but rarely comes with compassion and the transforming power of love these days. The rhetoric of disagreement has gotten progressively more hateful as political and social polarization has increased, stoked by the current president. And yes, we are outraged, but as Martin Luther King, Jr. said “hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
King wasn’t talking about a “kum ba ya, let’s all get along” kind of love. Love can be tough. Love can tell harsh truths. Naming evil and injustice and denouncing the despicable actions of individuals or groups is an honored part of the prophetic tradition, but hate is not.
Finding compassion in our hearts for those who uphold the powers and structures of evil is the biggest challenge of all. And we will never be perfect at it. We will fail again and again. I know I do. Sometimes it’s very difficult not to hate those who seem so hateful, but it is an aspiration of our UU faith. I can only repent, turn back, and keep trying.
As Unitarian Universalists, we look to this source:
Well, that’s a tall order for a congregation, isn’t it. And a lot to expect of us as individuals. What about the church as a sanctuary, you may rightfully ask, a place of solace, an escape from the harsh realities of the complex public realm? What about religion as praise and celebration and thanksgiving?
Retired minister and social justice activist, Richard Gilbert, struggled with this question in an often shared reading. He asks whether he is supposed to savor the world or save the world?
To savor the sweet taste of my own joy , he writes, Or to share the bitter cup of my neighbor; To celebrate life with exuberant step. Or to struggle for the life of the heavy laden?
Gilbert’s answer is that we can’t really savor the world unless we participate in saving it. They go hand in hand. We should do plenty of savoring and celebrating and praising and giving thanks. Church does give us solace and uplift our hearts. But it should also call us to action. A serious faith, a religion worth practicing, and a church worthy of the Unitarian Universalist label, calls its people to participate in saving the world.
Foy Valentine in an article in “Christian Ethics Today,” writes that the prophet is the one:
who is taking the longer look, listening to a different drummer, and feeling the fire of.. [their] calling as it burns to become fire in... [their] belly. The one who discerns and interprets the signs of the times.
There are numerous prophetic voices today calling us to action on behalf of racial justice. It’s up to each of us to determine who speaks to US. What words and deeds challenge us and light a fire in our bellies.
Today we who are White are being called by our Black sisters and brothers to listen to their voices of anguish and exhaustion over 400 years of oppression and to do something. Our thoughts and prayers are not enough when yet another Black man is killed by police, or killed by vigilantes, or reported to police for simply being Black. We are called to get past our denial, sometimes in strong words and angry deeds. We are being asked to understand our complicity, and to add our considerable power to the struggle for true freedom, justice and equity in America.
There are a number of ways to use our power. Many of us here cannot take to the streets, and that’s ok. We can start by learning as much as we can about our history of institutional racism, anti-Blackness and White Supremacy. From there, we can respond as we are able, by writing letters, donating money, working on voter registration, advocating for re-evaluation of policing, and more.
In this time, when the world is on fire for change, who are the prophets that inspire you? What words and deeds put a fire in your belly?
Here are a few that inspire me.
Frederick Douglas inspires me. He was an escaped slave who became a prominent activist, author and public speaker. He became a leader in the abolitionist movement, and later, the Emancipation Proclamation He continued to push for equality and human rights until his death in 1895. He said, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle.”
Martin Luther King, Jr., the most visible spokesperson and leader in the Civil Rights Movement from 1955 until his assassination in 1968, best known for advancing civil rights through nonviolence and civil disobedience. Inspired by his Christian faith and the nonviolent activism of Mahatma Gandhi, he lite a fire in the bellies of millions and changed the world. In addition to the quote on the slide, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that, Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,” let us take these words to heart: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” May we who are white be silent friends no longer.
We may not recognize their names, but the co-founders of Black Lives Matter, community organizers, Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi, and Alicia Garza are prophetic voices of our times. In began in 2013 with the use of hashtag BlackLivesMatter on Twitter after George Zimmerman was acquitted in the shooting death Trayvon Martin. BlackLivesMatter became the nationally recognized slogan for street demonstrations following the 2014 deaths of Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO, and Eric Garner in New York City. Black Lives Matter is a simple, but profoundly prophetic message in the context of American racism.
The Protesters in Minneapolis, who on the night of George Floyd’s death, inspired others to protest. Their prophetic words and deeds lit a fire in countless bellies. And soon there were protests in every state across America and throughout the world. No one is happy that peaceful protests and demonstrations became riots in some places. It is unfortunate that there were fires, destruction of property and looting, but as but as Martin Luther King, Jr once said, “riot is the language of the unheard.” May America no longer turn a blind eye and deaf ear to ravages of White Supremacy.
And the people of Washington, DC who, when the President had a huge fence erected around the White House, the people’s house, have decorated it with posters, paintings and flowers, turning it into a peaceful and inspiring symbol of the fire for justice, equality and peace that burns in the bellies of all who long for the beloved community.
Whose prophetic voices most inspires you? Who and what puts this metaphoric fire for justice in your belly? I hope and pray that in the
weeks and months and years ahead, this fire will continue to fuel the transforming power of love, burning away the evil structures of White Supremacy and racism, finally making America the great nation it can become.
I leave you with this from Jane Elliot, internationally known ant-racism activist and diversity educator. She quoted Victor Hugo in a Utube clip who said, “no power on earth can stop a man with a dream or an idea whose time has come.” She went on to say, “Martin Luther king Junior had a dream, but we killed him, and we thought we killed the dream. That dream is more alive today than it was when he was living. The idea of one race, the human race, is an idea whose time has come and no power on earth is going to be able to stop it.” May it be so. Amen.
The Reverend Beth Miller
June 14, 2020
Ive been talking recently about the six sources of our Unitarian Universalist faith. Today I want to tell you about the 2nd source: Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love.
I can think of no better time to lift up this source for our consideration. We’ve seen countless people of all races and ages throughout the world confront the powers and structures of the evil that is racism and White supremacy in the past two weeks. This isn’t something new. These powers and structures of evil have been the bedrock of our country since its very beginning.
No wonder there is Black Rage. No wonder it has erupted powerfully in these days. Holy, and sacred, Black Rage, Tyler Coles prays, be ever present in our struggle for liberation, in our work to be, to love, to exist.
Perhaps it’s the bone-weariness of the boldest and most blatant expressions of racism in America, so frequently unleashed by the President. Maybe it’s the growing economic disparity, making it harder and harder for those on the lower end of the income scale to survive, much less thrive in this country. Maybe it’s the disproportionate affects of the Pandemic on people of color. These things and more may have contributed.
But it’s the killing of George Floyd that has set the world on fire. George Floyd, the unintended hero in this story, is one more in a long, long line of Black people unjustly killed by police. This time it was caught on video by a very brave young woman showing us a clear case of unapologetic murder by police.
And this time, I hope and pray, that this fire is fueled by more than Black Rage. I pray that a critical mass of righteous outrage across racial lines and all kinds of diversities, even some political, continues to stand in solidarity with Black Rage as it has these last two weeks. I pray that this time the fire is too great to be doused out by complacent inaction. This time, I pray that we, the American people, will confront this evil and dismantle the racism that plagues us.
How do we proceed? We cannot turn away, but what do we do? How do we even think about it? Let’s look for a few minutes at the idea of prophets and their challenges to us as Unitarian Universalists. There are many modern day prophets out there telling us what we can do. How do we evaluate their advice for ourselves? We each have our own perspectives. And we have our own capabilities, physically, mentally and emotionally.
I’ll repeat the source statement: Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love. That’s a mouthful , I know, and it doesn’t tell us what to do. Prophetic words and deeds challenges us, and we must each decide for ourselves how we will confront the evil before us.
What does it mean to be a prophet? We’re probably most familiar with the biblical prophets of old. In ancient Israel a ‘prophet’ was one chosen to declare a message, and the prophet spoke with the authority of the one who sent the message.
Old Testament prophets usually began their prophecies with, Thus saith the Lord . . . It was understood among the Israelites that what followed was indeed a message from God. The role of prophecy in ancient Israel was to rail against injustice or immorality and to implore the people to change their ways. It was a reminder of who they were at their best, intended to inspire them to return to right relations with the community and harmony with God.
Our contemporary liberal religious understanding of prophesy is suspicious of the idea of prophets as literal messengers of God. Some preachers still deliver what they believe to be messages directly from God, but most clergy in today's world, and certainly Unitarian Universalist preachers, don’t believe God’s dictating instructions through us. You would likely send me packing if I started a sermon with “thus saith the Lord.”
Modern day prophets who’s prophecies we would pay attention to are more likely to look to the signs of the times, consider the beliefs and values of their religion, and proclaim the disparity between the way things are and what’s right in their understanding. That’s not as exciting as Thus saith the Lord .. . but it’s more credible to our modern way of seeking truth.
The 2nd source says words and deeds of prophetic women and men that challenge us... It’s not enough to just admire or appreciate prophecy. This encourages us to react by seriously considering the challenge and, if we deem it worthy, taking it up however we can.
And next, these words and deeds then, challenge us to confront the powers and structures of evil. It’s not enough to simply be mentally challenged, to think about it, or to be emotionally challenged, to feel sorry or sad or angry about injustice. More than that, we’re supposed to confront, to in some way take on the powers and structures of evil.
This Unitarian Universalism stuff is getting harder now. And this isn’t the end of it, either. We are further instructed to confront the powers and structures of evil in a specific way, with a particular mind set ... with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love.
Confrontation is pretty easy, but rarely comes with compassion and the transforming power of love these days. The rhetoric of disagreement has gotten progressively more hateful as political and social polarization has increased, stoked by the current president. And yes, we are outraged, but as Martin Luther King, Jr. said “hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
King wasn’t talking about a “kum ba ya, let’s all get along” kind of love. Love can be tough. Love can tell harsh truths. Naming evil and injustice and denouncing the despicable actions of individuals or groups is an honored part of the prophetic tradition, but hate is not.
Finding compassion in our hearts for those who uphold the powers and structures of evil is the biggest challenge of all. And we will never be perfect at it. We will fail again and again. I know I do. Sometimes it’s very difficult not to hate those who seem so hateful, but it is an aspiration of our UU faith. I can only repent, turn back, and keep trying.
As Unitarian Universalists, we look to this source:
- to help us each decide what is good and what is just and what is loving,
- to nurture and channel our decisions to act upon those understandings,
- to inspire us to live the commitments we speak,
- to call us back to our best selves when we stray, which we inevitably do,
- and to hold up the vision of a world of love and justice, a beloved community.
Well, that’s a tall order for a congregation, isn’t it. And a lot to expect of us as individuals. What about the church as a sanctuary, you may rightfully ask, a place of solace, an escape from the harsh realities of the complex public realm? What about religion as praise and celebration and thanksgiving?
Retired minister and social justice activist, Richard Gilbert, struggled with this question in an often shared reading. He asks whether he is supposed to savor the world or save the world?
To savor the sweet taste of my own joy , he writes, Or to share the bitter cup of my neighbor; To celebrate life with exuberant step. Or to struggle for the life of the heavy laden?
Gilbert’s answer is that we can’t really savor the world unless we participate in saving it. They go hand in hand. We should do plenty of savoring and celebrating and praising and giving thanks. Church does give us solace and uplift our hearts. But it should also call us to action. A serious faith, a religion worth practicing, and a church worthy of the Unitarian Universalist label, calls its people to participate in saving the world.
Foy Valentine in an article in “Christian Ethics Today,” writes that the prophet is the one:
who is taking the longer look, listening to a different drummer, and feeling the fire of.. [their] calling as it burns to become fire in... [their] belly. The one who discerns and interprets the signs of the times.
There are numerous prophetic voices today calling us to action on behalf of racial justice. It’s up to each of us to determine who speaks to US. What words and deeds challenge us and light a fire in our bellies.
Today we who are White are being called by our Black sisters and brothers to listen to their voices of anguish and exhaustion over 400 years of oppression and to do something. Our thoughts and prayers are not enough when yet another Black man is killed by police, or killed by vigilantes, or reported to police for simply being Black. We are called to get past our denial, sometimes in strong words and angry deeds. We are being asked to understand our complicity, and to add our considerable power to the struggle for true freedom, justice and equity in America.
There are a number of ways to use our power. Many of us here cannot take to the streets, and that’s ok. We can start by learning as much as we can about our history of institutional racism, anti-Blackness and White Supremacy. From there, we can respond as we are able, by writing letters, donating money, working on voter registration, advocating for re-evaluation of policing, and more.
In this time, when the world is on fire for change, who are the prophets that inspire you? What words and deeds put a fire in your belly?
Here are a few that inspire me.
Frederick Douglas inspires me. He was an escaped slave who became a prominent activist, author and public speaker. He became a leader in the abolitionist movement, and later, the Emancipation Proclamation He continued to push for equality and human rights until his death in 1895. He said, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle.”
Martin Luther King, Jr., the most visible spokesperson and leader in the Civil Rights Movement from 1955 until his assassination in 1968, best known for advancing civil rights through nonviolence and civil disobedience. Inspired by his Christian faith and the nonviolent activism of Mahatma Gandhi, he lite a fire in the bellies of millions and changed the world. In addition to the quote on the slide, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that, Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,” let us take these words to heart: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” May we who are white be silent friends no longer.
We may not recognize their names, but the co-founders of Black Lives Matter, community organizers, Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi, and Alicia Garza are prophetic voices of our times. In began in 2013 with the use of hashtag BlackLivesMatter on Twitter after George Zimmerman was acquitted in the shooting death Trayvon Martin. BlackLivesMatter became the nationally recognized slogan for street demonstrations following the 2014 deaths of Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO, and Eric Garner in New York City. Black Lives Matter is a simple, but profoundly prophetic message in the context of American racism.
The Protesters in Minneapolis, who on the night of George Floyd’s death, inspired others to protest. Their prophetic words and deeds lit a fire in countless bellies. And soon there were protests in every state across America and throughout the world. No one is happy that peaceful protests and demonstrations became riots in some places. It is unfortunate that there were fires, destruction of property and looting, but as but as Martin Luther King, Jr once said, “riot is the language of the unheard.” May America no longer turn a blind eye and deaf ear to ravages of White Supremacy.
And the people of Washington, DC who, when the President had a huge fence erected around the White House, the people’s house, have decorated it with posters, paintings and flowers, turning it into a peaceful and inspiring symbol of the fire for justice, equality and peace that burns in the bellies of all who long for the beloved community.
Whose prophetic voices most inspires you? Who and what puts this metaphoric fire for justice in your belly? I hope and pray that in the
weeks and months and years ahead, this fire will continue to fuel the transforming power of love, burning away the evil structures of White Supremacy and racism, finally making America the great nation it can become.
I leave you with this from Jane Elliot, internationally known ant-racism activist and diversity educator. She quoted Victor Hugo in a Utube clip who said, “no power on earth can stop a man with a dream or an idea whose time has come.” She went on to say, “Martin Luther king Junior had a dream, but we killed him, and we thought we killed the dream. That dream is more alive today than it was when he was living. The idea of one race, the human race, is an idea whose time has come and no power on earth is going to be able to stop it.” May it be so. Amen.
Unitarian Universalism’s 5th Source: Humanist Teachings
Unitarian Church of Sarasota
May 31, 2020
The Reverend Beth Miller
READINGS:
This morning we are considering the fifth source of our Unitarian Universalist faith: Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit. To help set the context, Rev. Beth offers two short readings from humanist sources found in Lloyd and Mary Morain’s book, Humanism As The Next Step.
First, these words by Robert Green Ingersoll about the liberation from fixed religious doctrines that humanism is for many people:
When I became convinced that the Universe is natural – that all the ghosts and gods are myths, there entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood the sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom. For the first time I was free. I stood erect and fearlessly, joyously, faced all the worlds. And then my heart was filled with gratitude, with thankfulness – and went out in love to all the heros, the thinkers who gave their lives for the liberty of hand and brain. And then I vowed to grasp the torch that they had held and hold it high that light might conquer darkness still.
And this from Malcom H. Bissell, educator and a former officer of the American Humanist Association, which speaks more directly to the focus of this morning’s sermon, idolatries of the mind and spirit:
For the tragedy of mankind has not been written by the searchers for the final answer, but by those who have found it. No man ever hated his brother for doubting what he himself could still question. No Columbus who knows what lies beyond the horizon ventures forth to find a new world. The fruitless battle of the sects has long since told its bitter and bloody tale. A thousand centuries of fears and forebodings, of priests and prayers and persecutions, have brought us only to the inscrutable stars and the silent mountains. The gods have not spoken; we ourselves must design the good society of which we dream.
SERMON:
...we ourselves must design the good society of which we dream.
Profound and challenging words in these days of such unrest and polarization, mostly social and political. At the heart of this polarization, though, there is a strong religious or ideological component. It has to do with beliefs that are absolute and unquestionable versus those that are flexible and open to new information.
A brief review of human history would show us that it has not been non-believers who have wrecked havoc on the world, who have fought to the death to impose their beliefs on others. And this is true in political matters as well as theology.
It is those who are so absolutely sure that their beliefs are not only correct, but also essential, who are the likely candidates to impose them on others and to commit unspeakable crimes against humanity to insure them. Holy wars, crusades, jihads, pogroms, holocausts have all been carried out in the name of some deeply held belief, some great certainty.
And if we look closely, the rabid racism in America has its roots deep in the same kind of unquestionable belief in the superiority of the White race, so ingrained in our history and culture that even those who don’t believe it are caught up in it socially.
And that belief, however perverted, that certainty has so convinced its true believers that it, and it alone, is valid and that any contrary belief is so dangerous that they have done unspeakable things, and still do today, to protect that belief from challenge.
But this sermon isn’t about racism in America, although the concepts apply. I’m speaking more generally this morning.
So I ask you - What sort of beliefs would make such claims on the human mind? What is the nature of a belief that tells you that your fellow man or woman who does not share that belief does not count as a human being? That the non-believer can legitimately be eliminated?
Such a belief can only be idolatry. Miriam Webster’s 2nd definition of idolatry is immoderate attachment or devotion to something. Similarly, the American Heritage Dictionary’s 2nd definition is blind or excessive devotion to something.
But the first definitions in all the dictionaries speak of idolatry as a belief in false gods or in something that is not god. Humanism challenges this first definition. Humanism claims that idolatry is not about the object of belief - god or not god. Humanism says that the real meaning and deeper impact of idolatry is found in the immoderate or blind quality of belief in anything - with or without god at the center of that belief.
A couple of weeks ago I introduced the six sources of our Unitarian Universalist way of doing theology and talked about wisdom from the world’s religions, the 3rd source. Today, as John said, I want to lift up some of the wisdom we get from the 5th source of Unitarian Universalism: Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit.
There are many possibilities for discussion in that statement. I could go into the history of humanism, how reason works, uses of the scientific process in theological studies, the ongoing debate about humanism verses theism, to name but a few. But it is that last part about idolatries of the mind and spirit that most catches my attention and that I bring for your consideration this morning. What are these idolatries? And how might humanism protect us from them?
As human beings, it is our nature to ask question and seek answers. Anyone who’s raised children remembers the endless questions of kids at around age 4, especially WHY. We are naturally seekers of knowledge and makers of meaning. We want to see the structure of life and the meaning of death. We want to KNOW.
Paradoxically, and also quite naturally for those of us with more flexible minds, we challenge any of the answers we find, especially those given by an outside authority. It seems to be just as much in our nature to doubt as it is to believe.
This paradoxical nature of the human mind - that we seek answers and question whatever answers we get - is why the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is so iconic, at least in Western culture.
Think about the story… These two people, Adam and Eve, have everything they could ever desire, and it’s all been given to them freely. They have God’s assurance that all their needs will be fulfilled. All they have to do is stay away from that one special tree in the middle of the garden. But no, they can’t do it. They are compelled to see what it’s all about. They must question the assurance they’ve been given and experience this forbidden fruit.
Adam tries to blame Eve, but she didn’t force him to eat the apple, she only offered it to him. It was in his own nature to take it. Eating the apple was on him.
Eve tries to blame the snake, but all he did was tempt her. She was ready and willing to experience its effects. That’s on her.
The snake knew how to reel her in, too. He said to her, “Did God tell you not to eat of that tree in the middle of the garden?”
“Yeah,” Eve said, “He says we’ll die if we do.”
“Ehhh, you won’t die. God doesn’t want you to eat it because he knows that if you do, your eyes will be opened and you’ll be wise like gods. You'll know about good and evil.”
Who wouldn’t want to eat the fruit of a tree that would make one wise like gods? So she did, and she offered it to Adam, and he ate it too. And, says the biblical account, the eyes of them both were opened.
This iconic myth points out that it was in their nature, both of them, as human beings, to choose to awaken to the knowledge of good and evil, to question, to want to know. That’s who we are.
Christian Biblical literalists usually take the story of Adam and Eve to be a sign of our fall from grace and it’s the foundation of their doctrine of original sin. It’s seen as a cautionary tale. Sin is traced back to this original act of defiance. Had they not eaten, according to the doctrine, sin would not exist. And there would be no need for Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross to save us from sin.
But more academically oriented theologians, and certainly philosophers and scientists who study human nature, see this story differently. They see it simply as an explanation of the way we human beings naturally are. We want it all. We seek answers, blessed assurance, or at least a sense of faith or trust in something, AND we also want to question. We want knowledge, reason, and to explore all possibilities.
Wisdom bridges the gap. We talked about wisdom from the worlds religions last time. Wisdom doesn’t come in strict devotion to one or the other of these sides of our nature. We develop wisdom as we accept our complexity as humans and become increasingly comfortable with the ambiguity of both sides of our nature. And this is where the 5th source comes in. In pointing us to the guidance of reason and the results of science humanism points us toward that balance.
Although there were much earlier influences, back to the Renaissance and the Reformation and before that, Greco-Roman thought, religious humanism as an organized movement began primarily as an American phenomenon that arose within the liberal churches as a corrective to the religious emotionalism, irrationalism, and wretched excesses of the early 20th century.
Humanism’s American threads start way back to the Colonial period before the American Revolution. Twice in the 18th Century before the Revolution and again in the early19th Century, there were revivalist movements of extreme emotional fervor. They’re known as the First and Second Great Awakenings. Hellfire and brimstone preaching, tearful conversion experiences at what was called the “weeping bench”, and desperate fear of eternal damnation filled the Colonial churches. You may have heard of Jonathan Edwards's sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" but he was only one of many revivalist preachers spreading this extreme theology calling sinners to repent and be saved lest they burn in Hell for eternity.
During each of these waves of revivalism, a small minority of liberal Christian clergy and parishioners advocated for a more reasoned and balanced kind of religion; one that celebrated the human mind and spirit rather than denigrating it; a religion that, as Universalist minister, John Murray said, give them not hell but hope and courage.
These voices of liberal religion advocated for the use of reason in religious matters. They told the people that our minds are as much a gift of God as our souls, and that to separate them into separate compartments was a mistake.
The philosopher, Bertrand Russell, an unapologetic and agnostic critic of religion, said:
....rationality, in the sense of an appeal to a universal and impersonal standard of truth, is of supreme importance to the wellbeing of the human species.
We want to believe. We have a heart-felt yearning for certainty and security. But we also have an intellectual mind that struggles against accepting answers that ring false or questionable to us.
Instead of seeing our questioning minds as a perverse and evil part of ourselves, humanism assures us that our minds are our salvation from ignorance and the road to our fulfillment as human beings. Rather than leading us into idolatry, humanism says that it is our reasoning minds, our intellect which keeps us from idolatry.
What then, are the signs of idolatry in this humanist perspective?
- Fixed convictions,
- Prejudice, and
- Unquestionable doctrines.
It is the closed mind that is dangerous, not the questioning mind. Malcom H. Bissell made the point in the reading earlier. He said, the tragedy of mankind has not been written by the searchers for the final answer, but by those who have found it. No man ever hated his brother for doubting what he himself could still question...
It has not been the searchers and the doubters who have perpetrated the violence on the world, but those religious fundamentalists who are certain and whose minds are closed; those with fixed convictions, prejudice, and unquestionable doctrines.
Humanism, long a central part of Unitarian Universalism, offers us another possibility and another way to proceed. Some of humanism’s central ideas that challenge religious fundamentalism are:
That we should experience life deeply and fully and with sensitivity to the environment.
Nature is worthy of our attention and our study for its own sake, and not just so that we can subdue it and put it to our own material use.
Human beings are worthy of our confidence.
It is through human agency that progress happens and change occurs.
We don’t need to turn our will over to a non-existent, or at least unknowable, supreme being.
Likewise, all human beings are of worth and should have equal rights and opportunities to pursue their goals.
We are all in this human enterprise together and must put a high priority on cooperation and mutual aid.
Evolution is the natural process of life.
Progress happens incrementally over time, so cooperation with the processes of evolution is vital to our survival and well-being.
The best way to be a human being is to use our rational, logical thinking abilities and to use the scientific method of hypothesis, inquiry, testing, and revision.
Any one of those ideas is worthy of a sermon. They are all reflected in the literature and music and the choices of readings and sermons given in Unitarian Universalist congregations regularly. In fact, you might be sitting there saying to yourself, so how is humanism different from Unitarian Universalism?
Here’s how they differ: Unitarian Universalism is a large religious and philosophical tent. It fully embraces humanism, but it also explores ideas that humanism finds irrelevant. Unitarian Universalism is interested in questions like who or what is God and what happens to us after we die. It accepts a wide range of beliefs and disbeliefs about those questions. And Unitarian Universalism welcomes these explorations and many of the answers people find through the parts of ourselves that are more mystical or intuitive as well as the rational.
So while individual UUs have their own beliefs, Unitarian Universalism as a body is not limited to humanism, but includes it and sees it as a central part of our more inclusive religious picture. And while it encourages us to form our own beliefs, Unitarian Universalism also asks us to respect the beliefs of others. Unitarian Universalism rejects intolerance of every stripe, even a fundamentalist kind of humanism or agnosticism or atheism that would disallowed the expression of other beliefs to be shared in its name.
Humanism is, in my opinion, the part of Unitarian Universalism that seeks to keeps us intellectually credible. It is humanism’s emphasis on our rational processes that steers us away from idolatry of the mind and spirit, that breaks the chains that fundamentalist orthodoxies would put on our minds, and sets us free. Humanism celebrates and encourages our questioning minds.
I’ll end with these words from the Unitarian minister of the early 20th century and humanist pioneer, John Dietrich:
For centuries the idea of God has been the very heart of religion;
it has been said, “no god, no religion.”
But humanism thinks of religion as something very different
and far deeper than any belief in God.
To [humanism] religion is not
the attempt to establish right relations
with a supernatural being,
but rather the up-reaching and aspiring impulse
in a human life.
It is life striving for its completest fulfillment,
and anything which contributes to this fulfillment is religious,
whether it be associated with the idea of God or not.
Wisdom From The World’s Religions
the Rev. Beth Miller
May 17, 2020
As we light the chalice most Sundays, we recite one of the seven principles of Unitarian Universalism. These principles are our statements of aspiration for our ethical living and spiritual growth. In trying to practice them in our lives, we grow in integrity, and by that I mean trying to live, day to day, practicing what we say our values are. This isn’t easy, because those principles, taken seriously,are demanding.
Less well known is what follows the seven principles. The statement goes on to say:
The living tradition which we share draws from many sources:
Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces which create and uphold life;
Words and deeds of prophetic people which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love;
Wisdom from the world’s religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life;
Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to respond to God’s love by loving our neighbors as ourselves;
Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit;
Spiritual teachings of Earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.
By drawing on these six sources we are inspired or informed, challenged perhaps, even provoked to think more deeply about what our principles mean and what living by them looks like.
Our children and youth have been studying world religions this year, so today, let’s consider the third source: Wisdom from the world’s religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life.
This source expresses the idea that beneath all the diversity and divisiveness of the different world’s religions, there is a strong and abiding core of common wisdom. That seems odd, doesn’t it? The world's religions seem radically different and are all too often, extremely hostile to one another. We can’t help but think about how religions have been used to wage wars, conquer enemies, and control people. This is true. Religion has been used for a multitude of reprehensible purposes.
But that’s only part of the story, and not the part about the essence of the traditions. The prophetic individuals upon whom religions were founded, like Jesus and Mohammad and the Buddha, didn’t set out to form new religions. They were visionaries, not institution builders. They had their revelations, their callings, their spiritual experiences, their visions of a better world, and they were compelled to share their experienced with others.
But, over long periods of time, their teachings became distorted, sometimes through misunderstanding and miscommunication, and sometimes deliberately in order to consolidate power. Over time, and through changing power structures, the authentic messages of the founders became diluted and often perverted or contradicted. Dogma and creeds, rituals and traditions, that the founders could never have imagined, were created, either through evolution or, too often, through imposition for dubious purposes.
But, let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water. If we look beneath all the madness and mayhem that religions are responsible for in the world, we see that the great spiritual pioneers and visionaries looked deeply within themselves for answers to the timeless questions all human beings ask. And they found strikingly similar answers. Catholic theologian, Thomas Keating in "Speaking in Silence" said:
…if we could articulate the points of agreement among the world's religions, a transcultural revelation of the basic values of human life which the world's religions hold in common would emerge.
The basic values upon which the religions agree are found in the wisdom literature in all the world’s sacred writings. Wisdom from the various faith traditions, and from much of secular philosophy as well, is about such things as gratitude, finding joy in living, harmony with others and with all beings, unity with the holy. It points to broad human experiences and life’s big questions, questions of higher truth and deeper meaning.
That’s the heart realm about souls consumed with longing, not minds stuffed with supposed facts or specific information. Wisdom is about our deep human yearning, not our intellectual curiosity or mental gymnastics to prove or disprove a point.
Obviously, we need both kinds of knowledge to get through life. I’m not disparaging intellect or structure or any of that. But it is in the domain of wisdom that we find commonality among people of faith and inspiration in our ethical and spiritual lives. And this is what this Unitarian Universalist source points us toward: not doctrines, but Wisdom from the world’s religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life.
Another way to think about this is to consider the difference between the "outside" and "inside" of religion. "Outside" refers to things such as customs, rules, obligations, organization, and so on; quantifiable religious things. "Inside" refers to the inner spiritual questions, direct experiences, and enlightenment or awakening, our spiritual growth. These inner experiences generally come from some kind of spiritual study, a discipline or path such as meditation, contemplation, yoga, prayer, personal reflection, or focused study. Here we look within ourselves - look inside - for answers, and not just follow religious rules. This inward search for truth and meaning is at the core of Unitarian Universalism.
The late Unitarian Universalists minister, the Rev. Dr. Forrest Church, uses the image of a special cathedral which he calls the Cathedral of the World. The cathedral’s windows, he writes: “each in its own way is beautiful. Some are abstract, others representational... each tells a story about the creation of the world, the meaning of history, the purpose of life, the nature of humankind, the mystery of death. The windows of the cathedral are where the light shines in.” He calls the Light, God, but his definition of god isn’t a traditional anthropomorphic definition. It’s more the life force that runs through all of life. His theological metaphor of the cathedral points to one Light, which is what Unitarianism actually means, one god. And the Light that shines through those many windows represents the unity of all things, a Universalism, despite the apparent differences.
The colors and patterns of the different windows modify and shape the light, refracting and reflecting it in a variety of ways. The direction each window faces impacts how the light is seen from the inside. Western light in the late afternoon looks different than eastern light in the morning. The light is constant; it is our perception of the light that varies.
If you can, imagine yourself inside the cathedral, walking through the hallways, chapels, and the enormous sanctuary. You see many different windows. Imagine the light shining in and notice the different ways it looks. You will probably prefer some windows to others. Still, you know that it’s the same light you’re observing through all of the windows. The light represents Truth with a capital-T, and our perception of the light is for truth with a small-t.
Contemporary philosopher Ken Wilber says that this sense of unity within the diversity of religions and philosophies:
... has been embraced by the vast majority of the world's greatest spiritual teachers, philosophers, thinkers, and even scientists. It's called 'perennial' or 'universal' because it shows up in virtually all cultures across the globe and across the ages… And wherever we find it, it has essentially similar features, it is an essential agreement the world over.
[and he adds wryly] We moderns, who can hardly agree on anything, find this rather hard to believe.
I’ve made my point that at the wisdom level, there is a unity in the great diversity we see in the world’s religions, particularly in the teachings of their original founders, most of whom, remember, had no intention of starting a new religion. So for the rest of our time this morning, let me just share some of this common wisdom with you.
The central agreement is that at the heart of existence, there is a unifying power or force. In English, the word used to translate this is god. There are many different beliefs about the nature of this force. Hinduism breaks it into an number unlimited of gods, one for each aspects of life, but at the center is this same oneness called Brahma. Judaism and Christianity see god anthropomorphically, while Buddhism and Confucianism see it more as the force or unifying principle of life. The different definitions are about the ‘outside’ of religion, but the perennial, ‘inside’ idea is that this force is within us and within everything and to experience or know it, we look inside. Unitarian Universalism speaks of the “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” in our principles, and “direct experience of that mystery and wonder affirmed in all cultures” as the first source. Here some of the ways the world’s religions express this:
Christianity says: 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 you.
Buddhism tells us: If you think the Law is outside yourself, you are embracing not the absolute Law, but some inferior teaching. Be lamps unto yourselves. Be a refuge unto yourself.
From Hinduism: Deep within abides another life, not like the life of the senses, escaping sight, unchanging. This endures when all created things have passed away. Brahma is the one God hidden in all beings, all-pervading, the Self within all beings... The Divine hides - hidden in the hearts of all.
Shintoism: Do not search in distant skies for God. In your own heart is the Divine found.
Confucianism: Remember, even when alone, that the Divine is everywhere. What the undeveloped aspirant seeks is outside; what the advanced aspirant seeks is within him- or herself.
If the holy is within each of us, then there are some obligations that we as human beings have to our common humanity. The current Dalai Lama says: each major religion of the world has similar ideas of love, the same goal of benefitting humanity through spiritual practice, and the same effect of making their followers into better human beings. ...the great religious teachers wanted to lead people away from the paths of mis-deeds caused by ignorance and introduce them to paths of goodness.
Unitarian Universalism expresses this sense of moral obligation in our 2nd principle where we affirm and promote “justice, equity and compassion in human relations,” and in the 6th, “the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” Universal obligations we have to one another included loving others, forgiveness, telling the truth and not judging others, generosity and peacemaking.
Some expressions of these ideas in Christianity are: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, Put away lying, speak every person truth to your neighbor... Judge not and ye shall not be judged. Forgive and ye shall be forgiven. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. And, It is more blessed to give than to receive.
Judaism says: What is hurtful to yourself, do not to your fellow man or woman. Speak ye... truth to thy neighbor, execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates. A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. The most beautiful thing a person can do is to forgive wrong. Judge not thy neighbor until you are in his place. And: Blessed is the one who considers the poor...
In Buddhism: Hurt not others with that which pains yourself. Full of love for all things in the world, practicing virtue in order to benefit others... Conquer your foe by force, and you increase his anger. Conquer by love and you will reap no after-sorrow. Never is hate diminished by hatred; it is only diminished by love. Judge not thy neighbor.
Islam: Do unto all others as you would wish to have done unto you; and reject for others what you would reject for yourself. Follow that which is revealed to thee, and persevere with patience until God shall judge, for he is the best judge. The poor, the orphan, the captive – feed them for the love of God alone, desiring no reward, not even thanks.
Confucianism: Tzu-Kung asked: “Is there one principle upon which one’s whole life may proceed?” The Master replied: “Is not Reciprocity such a principle? What you do not yourself desire, do not put before others.” Seek to be in harmony with all your neighbors; live in amity with your brethren.
Hinduism: This is the sum of all true righteousness: Treat others as thou wouldst thyself be treated. Say what is true! Do not swerve from the truth. With kindness conquer rage, with goodness malice, with generosity defeat all meanness, with the straight truth defeat lies and deceit. Bounteous is the one who gives to the beggar who comes in want of food and feeble.
Unitarian Universalism looks to wisdom from the world’s religions to inspire us in our ethical and spiritual lives. These ideas are expressed in many different ways, but there is a unity at the center. May this wisdom help us find joy, love, and depth in daily life; make us stronger human beings; and turn our strength to the concerns of the world in acts which serve needs and move the world towards positive social change. That’s what it is all about.
Being at Home
with Video Sermon by Beth Miller Maya Angelou wrote: “the ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” There are all kinds of homes, peaceful homes, dangerous homes, chaotic homes, boring homes, and for too many in America, no homes at all. How are our homes for us at this time when we’re confined to them? Photo by Ameer Basheer on Unsplash |
Robert Lischetti
Don Bryn, piano
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Being At Home
The Rev. Beth Miller
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
May 3, 2020
Home. Home is where the heart is. Home has to do with roots and fond memories. Home represents safety and security, warmth and love. Home nurtures us.
Well, for many of us that’s true. But before I talk about what home means to those of us whose lives are relatively privileged, I need to acknowledge that for far, far too many people there is no home.
The homeless wander the streets and sleep in doorways or up against walls, or if they are fortunate, in cars they have to move every few hours to avoid the police. Maybe they create a sense of home among their comrades. Maybe they have a sense of home from a distant past, or maybe even a current past because people fall into homelessness so easily these days, people who never would’ve imagined that it could happen to them. And in these days where everything is closed and people are told to stay at home, it must be excruciatingly difficult to be homeless, even more than normal. And isn’t it sad to think of the degree of homelessness we have in this country as normal?
I also need to acknowledge that Home isn’t always a happy place. For many people, victims of domestic violence or child abuse, Home can be a very dangerous place, especially now when so many of us are home, together, all the time. The tensions that set cycles of abuse in motion are intensified now. In fact, most homeless kids are on the streets because their circumstances make it feel safer there than in any home they’ve known, be it family or foster homes.
And many homes, have been visited with this covid19 virus or other serious illness and are places of suffering and of the toil of caretaking and the fear of contagion.
I’m sorry to bring you down by bringing this up when it isn’t the topic for today. Talking about how finding home is complicated, even for the most privileged, without acknowledging how lucky we are to be in that category just seems over-indulgent and, for me, inauthentic.
So, as we think about our own homes, let us hold those with no homes, those with dangerous homes, and those in homes with the virus in our hearts. And let’s be aware that more people will likely become homeless, domestic violence will probably increase in the economic crisis that comes with this pandemic, and that more people will likely come down with covid19. When our lives get back to whatever the new normal turns out to be, may we not forget what we’re learning through this crisis: that the wages we pay the working class, our social safety net, the healthcare system, and the economic disparity in our country are untenable and unworthy of the people we believe we are as Americans.
So, now that off the soapbox, let’s talk about home. “Settle down, it’ll all be clear. Know you’re not alone; I’m gonna make this place your home.” Phillip Phillips song always brings tears to my eyes. How do we ever know we’re not alone? Can anyone else make a place our home? What does it take a place our home ourselves?
Home has to do with roots and fond memories.
Budd’s wonderful reflection on childhood home was about fond memories. What evokes such feelings of home in you? What takes you back? Or brings you forward? Do you, quote, “wistfully seek out and savor the silent places of the pasts” as Budd put it? His images evoke that feeling in me. Who doesn’t remember Superman and hopscotch? Running free in the neighborhood, in and out of each other’s houses?
I’ve lived in 26 apartments or houses, 5 of them before I was 18. The home I had longest was from the time I was 6 until we moved when I was 15, and that’s the place that evokes these kinds of memories for me. The sounds of the kids playing in the street, dogs barking, the smells of cooking in our kitchen or the next-door neighbors’, the endless games of hide and seek, and making forts in the vacant lot beside my house.
But to tell you the truth, the feeling those memories evoke in me are more nostalgia than home in the sense of “a deep-rooted sense of welcome and permanence and belonging,” to quote Dwight Young.
He goes on to say of home: “It’s the safe, intensely personal realm were you can permit yourself to throw off everything that isn’t fundamentally, essentially you.”
Melody Beattie sums it up this way. She writes: “Going home means getting comfortable being who you are and who your soul really wants to be. There is no strain with that. The strain and tension come when we’re not being who our soul wants to be and we’re someplace where our soul doesn’t feel at home.”
That wasn’t my experience of home as a child. I mentioned in a sermon last fall that my home wasn’t very nurturing. It was a safe home. A decent home. There wasn’t violence or chaos, and though my family was financially on the edge, homelessness wasn’t a looming concern. But my parents were we worried and preoccupied most of the time and my brother was a bit of a bully, so I made it my job to not need or want much - and to stay out of the way.
I didn’t find what is fundamentally, essentially me there. I had no idea who my soul really wanted to be. So I guess you could say that my development, in terms of a sense of rootedness and self awareness, was delayed. Not squelched altogether as so many growing up in actively repressive homes were. Not warped by the intrusive controlling some families inflict on their kids. No, it was a benign kind of absence in my home. And I’m actually grateful for that.
I went out into the world, getting married and leaving home at 18, pretty much a blank slate, to myself. But I had developed coping skills and I could deal with uncertainty and hold my own counsel. This gave be enough courage to engage in the world and try things. I didn’t have high self-esteem, but neither did I suffer from low self-esteem. I just hadn’t discovered myself yet. This more or less neutral zone wasn’t a bad place to launch into adulthood from.
I’m going to guess that some of you can relate to my experience, or worse experiences of home as a child. The happy home described in poetry and lauded in essays is actually a rare thing. In varying degrees, Home is fraught with challenges, especially for children. Few of us emerge unscathed.
If you grew up in a home that nurtured you, helped you to discover your gifts, and gave you a firm sense of who you are as you ventured out into the world, you were exceedingly blessed. For the rest of us, finding and expanding a sense of home within ourselves has been part of our life’s journey. “Home is not a place, it’s a feeling,” as one of our quotes said.
For me, success in that journey to discover home within myself grew out of the spiritual communities I’ve belonged to and the deep connections with people I met along the way.
As child, I religiously attended Sunday school and church, even though the rest of my family did not. The actively engaged adults, the other kids, and the message that God and Jesus loved me, gave me a sense of belonging. Though I later outgrew my child’s understanding of the theology, I experienced church as a welcoming and comforting place. They say that many Unitarian Universalists are former Christians who can’t give up the church habit, and that fits for me. That church community also motivated me to be a good person and do my best.
As a young newly wed some years later, I found the Unitarian Universalist Church and my sense of belonging in the world, and in my own skin, grew as I learned who I was, worked out what I believed, and discovered my potential gifts and skills. Here, in addition to welcoming, comforting, and striving to be a good person, I experienced church as a place for self-discovery and spiritual growth.
Star Island, the Unitarian Universalist Conference Center off the coast of New Hampshire was another big part of my self discovery and quest for a sense of home within myself. For many years, my family attended International Affairs week the middle of July. I still go by myself now, although they’ve had to cancel all conferences this summer. There’s a song that says “Star Island is our spirits’ home” and a chant as we depart on the boat saying “we will come back, we will come back.” For those who get into the rhythm of the week in this beautiful place, the daily schedule of communal living, and the island’s rituals, it does become a home of spiritual growth and deepening, even as it’s an intellectual place to learn about topics of international importance. Many of the values we as Unitarian Universalists profess are easier to experience and absorb in this tiny microcosm of a spiritual place.
In addition to spiritual community, deep personal connections, friends and family, have been essential to my sense of becoming at home in myself. Growing up I often experienced glimmers of it in the homes of certain friends whose home lives were more actively loving than mine and whose parents extended that love to anyone who was there.
Later, neighbors helped me grow a sense of home, especially the two women who were pregnant with first babies the same time I was and the other woman who had a six month old and mentored us through the experience. The four of us were on three floors of the same garden apartment building. We greatly expanded the meaning of home for each other.
Later, church friends became symbols of home that I’ve taken with me to every house I’ve since lived in. Being in their homes taught me how to create a home that is a place “where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends,” to quote an anonymous source.
These experiences of spiritual community and deep friendship have helped me to discover and nurture a sense of belonging within myself. And with that, I’ve been able to make a home for myself, to varying degrees, in the many houses I’ve lived in.
Life changes along the way have brought new challenges. Marriage, children, divorce, children leaving home, career moves, all necessitated growing deeper levels of creating home within myself. We all face such changes over the course of our lives. There’s an adjustment, a need to reassess what makes our dwelling a home, each time.
When children enter our lives, how do we make room for them in this space we’ve created for just the two of us?
When they leave home, how do we become the other person’s only housemate after so many years?
Or perhaps we become alone through divorce or the death of our partner. What does home mean now that such companionship is no longer a part of it?
Now I live alone in a new community under quarantine. I’ve been in the process of making myself at home here since I arrived in July. The pandemic has interrupted that, but still, I feel at home in myself. Do I long for a more connected sense of at-home-ness in Sarasota? Of course, and I know from experience that it will come, even if delayed. Meanwhile, I’m okay and hope you are too.
I know that some of you are also newcomers to Sarasota and experiencing the same thing. I know several of you are recently widowed and are experiencing being home alone for the first time in many years. Others are stuck at home here when you intended to be in another home north of here. And others have gone on to that other home up north, but leave a bit of yourselves here among us.
Becoming at home in the world is a lifelong journey of spiritual and emotional growth, of getting to know who we really are as an individuals, and of being open and flexible. More that the place we live, Home really is a state of mind.
There’s an ancient story about a gatekeeper who sits at the gates to a town. A stranger comes along and asks, “what are the people here like? I’m looking for a new place to live.” The gatekeeper responds, “well, tell me what the people at the place you’re coming from were like.”
The newcomer responds: “actually, they’re the reason I’m moving. They’re mean spirited, back biting gossips for the most part. Not neighborly at all.”
“Sadly,” the gatekeeper replies, “you’ll find the folks here pretty much the same. It’s too bad because it’s a beautiful city, but you probably won’t be happy here.” The newcomer moves on.
Eventually another stranger comes along with the same query, “excuse me, sir, but I’m looking for a new place to live. Can you tell me what the people in this town are like?”
The gatekeeper asks the same question, “what were people like where you’re coming from.”
“Oh,” says the newcomer, “they’re wonderful folks. Great neighbors. Everyone looks out for each other and helps in a pinch. I hate to leave, but I lost my job and there’s no work for me there. I found a job not far from here though.”
“Well,” said the gatekeeper, “you’re in luck. That’s just how the folks in this town are, too. You’ll feel right at home here. Welcome!”
Home has to do with roots and fond memories. May you be rooted in your internal sense of home and make fond memories wherever you find yourself.
Home represents safety and security, warmth and love. May you always feel safe and secure in your home and know that you are loved wherever you are.
Home is where the heart is. May you heart be at home today and every day.
Another wish I have for each of us today is that nothing evil cross our doors. Let’s sing about that in our closing hymn with Robert before we extinguished the chalice and end our service.
The Rev. Beth Miller
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
May 3, 2020
Home. Home is where the heart is. Home has to do with roots and fond memories. Home represents safety and security, warmth and love. Home nurtures us.
Well, for many of us that’s true. But before I talk about what home means to those of us whose lives are relatively privileged, I need to acknowledge that for far, far too many people there is no home.
The homeless wander the streets and sleep in doorways or up against walls, or if they are fortunate, in cars they have to move every few hours to avoid the police. Maybe they create a sense of home among their comrades. Maybe they have a sense of home from a distant past, or maybe even a current past because people fall into homelessness so easily these days, people who never would’ve imagined that it could happen to them. And in these days where everything is closed and people are told to stay at home, it must be excruciatingly difficult to be homeless, even more than normal. And isn’t it sad to think of the degree of homelessness we have in this country as normal?
I also need to acknowledge that Home isn’t always a happy place. For many people, victims of domestic violence or child abuse, Home can be a very dangerous place, especially now when so many of us are home, together, all the time. The tensions that set cycles of abuse in motion are intensified now. In fact, most homeless kids are on the streets because their circumstances make it feel safer there than in any home they’ve known, be it family or foster homes.
And many homes, have been visited with this covid19 virus or other serious illness and are places of suffering and of the toil of caretaking and the fear of contagion.
I’m sorry to bring you down by bringing this up when it isn’t the topic for today. Talking about how finding home is complicated, even for the most privileged, without acknowledging how lucky we are to be in that category just seems over-indulgent and, for me, inauthentic.
So, as we think about our own homes, let us hold those with no homes, those with dangerous homes, and those in homes with the virus in our hearts. And let’s be aware that more people will likely become homeless, domestic violence will probably increase in the economic crisis that comes with this pandemic, and that more people will likely come down with covid19. When our lives get back to whatever the new normal turns out to be, may we not forget what we’re learning through this crisis: that the wages we pay the working class, our social safety net, the healthcare system, and the economic disparity in our country are untenable and unworthy of the people we believe we are as Americans.
So, now that off the soapbox, let’s talk about home. “Settle down, it’ll all be clear. Know you’re not alone; I’m gonna make this place your home.” Phillip Phillips song always brings tears to my eyes. How do we ever know we’re not alone? Can anyone else make a place our home? What does it take a place our home ourselves?
Home has to do with roots and fond memories.
Budd’s wonderful reflection on childhood home was about fond memories. What evokes such feelings of home in you? What takes you back? Or brings you forward? Do you, quote, “wistfully seek out and savor the silent places of the pasts” as Budd put it? His images evoke that feeling in me. Who doesn’t remember Superman and hopscotch? Running free in the neighborhood, in and out of each other’s houses?
I’ve lived in 26 apartments or houses, 5 of them before I was 18. The home I had longest was from the time I was 6 until we moved when I was 15, and that’s the place that evokes these kinds of memories for me. The sounds of the kids playing in the street, dogs barking, the smells of cooking in our kitchen or the next-door neighbors’, the endless games of hide and seek, and making forts in the vacant lot beside my house.
But to tell you the truth, the feeling those memories evoke in me are more nostalgia than home in the sense of “a deep-rooted sense of welcome and permanence and belonging,” to quote Dwight Young.
He goes on to say of home: “It’s the safe, intensely personal realm were you can permit yourself to throw off everything that isn’t fundamentally, essentially you.”
Melody Beattie sums it up this way. She writes: “Going home means getting comfortable being who you are and who your soul really wants to be. There is no strain with that. The strain and tension come when we’re not being who our soul wants to be and we’re someplace where our soul doesn’t feel at home.”
That wasn’t my experience of home as a child. I mentioned in a sermon last fall that my home wasn’t very nurturing. It was a safe home. A decent home. There wasn’t violence or chaos, and though my family was financially on the edge, homelessness wasn’t a looming concern. But my parents were we worried and preoccupied most of the time and my brother was a bit of a bully, so I made it my job to not need or want much - and to stay out of the way.
I didn’t find what is fundamentally, essentially me there. I had no idea who my soul really wanted to be. So I guess you could say that my development, in terms of a sense of rootedness and self awareness, was delayed. Not squelched altogether as so many growing up in actively repressive homes were. Not warped by the intrusive controlling some families inflict on their kids. No, it was a benign kind of absence in my home. And I’m actually grateful for that.
I went out into the world, getting married and leaving home at 18, pretty much a blank slate, to myself. But I had developed coping skills and I could deal with uncertainty and hold my own counsel. This gave be enough courage to engage in the world and try things. I didn’t have high self-esteem, but neither did I suffer from low self-esteem. I just hadn’t discovered myself yet. This more or less neutral zone wasn’t a bad place to launch into adulthood from.
I’m going to guess that some of you can relate to my experience, or worse experiences of home as a child. The happy home described in poetry and lauded in essays is actually a rare thing. In varying degrees, Home is fraught with challenges, especially for children. Few of us emerge unscathed.
If you grew up in a home that nurtured you, helped you to discover your gifts, and gave you a firm sense of who you are as you ventured out into the world, you were exceedingly blessed. For the rest of us, finding and expanding a sense of home within ourselves has been part of our life’s journey. “Home is not a place, it’s a feeling,” as one of our quotes said.
For me, success in that journey to discover home within myself grew out of the spiritual communities I’ve belonged to and the deep connections with people I met along the way.
As child, I religiously attended Sunday school and church, even though the rest of my family did not. The actively engaged adults, the other kids, and the message that God and Jesus loved me, gave me a sense of belonging. Though I later outgrew my child’s understanding of the theology, I experienced church as a welcoming and comforting place. They say that many Unitarian Universalists are former Christians who can’t give up the church habit, and that fits for me. That church community also motivated me to be a good person and do my best.
As a young newly wed some years later, I found the Unitarian Universalist Church and my sense of belonging in the world, and in my own skin, grew as I learned who I was, worked out what I believed, and discovered my potential gifts and skills. Here, in addition to welcoming, comforting, and striving to be a good person, I experienced church as a place for self-discovery and spiritual growth.
Star Island, the Unitarian Universalist Conference Center off the coast of New Hampshire was another big part of my self discovery and quest for a sense of home within myself. For many years, my family attended International Affairs week the middle of July. I still go by myself now, although they’ve had to cancel all conferences this summer. There’s a song that says “Star Island is our spirits’ home” and a chant as we depart on the boat saying “we will come back, we will come back.” For those who get into the rhythm of the week in this beautiful place, the daily schedule of communal living, and the island’s rituals, it does become a home of spiritual growth and deepening, even as it’s an intellectual place to learn about topics of international importance. Many of the values we as Unitarian Universalists profess are easier to experience and absorb in this tiny microcosm of a spiritual place.
In addition to spiritual community, deep personal connections, friends and family, have been essential to my sense of becoming at home in myself. Growing up I often experienced glimmers of it in the homes of certain friends whose home lives were more actively loving than mine and whose parents extended that love to anyone who was there.
Later, neighbors helped me grow a sense of home, especially the two women who were pregnant with first babies the same time I was and the other woman who had a six month old and mentored us through the experience. The four of us were on three floors of the same garden apartment building. We greatly expanded the meaning of home for each other.
Later, church friends became symbols of home that I’ve taken with me to every house I’ve since lived in. Being in their homes taught me how to create a home that is a place “where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends,” to quote an anonymous source.
These experiences of spiritual community and deep friendship have helped me to discover and nurture a sense of belonging within myself. And with that, I’ve been able to make a home for myself, to varying degrees, in the many houses I’ve lived in.
Life changes along the way have brought new challenges. Marriage, children, divorce, children leaving home, career moves, all necessitated growing deeper levels of creating home within myself. We all face such changes over the course of our lives. There’s an adjustment, a need to reassess what makes our dwelling a home, each time.
When children enter our lives, how do we make room for them in this space we’ve created for just the two of us?
When they leave home, how do we become the other person’s only housemate after so many years?
Or perhaps we become alone through divorce or the death of our partner. What does home mean now that such companionship is no longer a part of it?
Now I live alone in a new community under quarantine. I’ve been in the process of making myself at home here since I arrived in July. The pandemic has interrupted that, but still, I feel at home in myself. Do I long for a more connected sense of at-home-ness in Sarasota? Of course, and I know from experience that it will come, even if delayed. Meanwhile, I’m okay and hope you are too.
I know that some of you are also newcomers to Sarasota and experiencing the same thing. I know several of you are recently widowed and are experiencing being home alone for the first time in many years. Others are stuck at home here when you intended to be in another home north of here. And others have gone on to that other home up north, but leave a bit of yourselves here among us.
Becoming at home in the world is a lifelong journey of spiritual and emotional growth, of getting to know who we really are as an individuals, and of being open and flexible. More that the place we live, Home really is a state of mind.
There’s an ancient story about a gatekeeper who sits at the gates to a town. A stranger comes along and asks, “what are the people here like? I’m looking for a new place to live.” The gatekeeper responds, “well, tell me what the people at the place you’re coming from were like.”
The newcomer responds: “actually, they’re the reason I’m moving. They’re mean spirited, back biting gossips for the most part. Not neighborly at all.”
“Sadly,” the gatekeeper replies, “you’ll find the folks here pretty much the same. It’s too bad because it’s a beautiful city, but you probably won’t be happy here.” The newcomer moves on.
Eventually another stranger comes along with the same query, “excuse me, sir, but I’m looking for a new place to live. Can you tell me what the people in this town are like?”
The gatekeeper asks the same question, “what were people like where you’re coming from.”
“Oh,” says the newcomer, “they’re wonderful folks. Great neighbors. Everyone looks out for each other and helps in a pinch. I hate to leave, but I lost my job and there’s no work for me there. I found a job not far from here though.”
“Well,” said the gatekeeper, “you’re in luck. That’s just how the folks in this town are, too. You’ll feel right at home here. Welcome!”
Home has to do with roots and fond memories. May you be rooted in your internal sense of home and make fond memories wherever you find yourself.
Home represents safety and security, warmth and love. May you always feel safe and secure in your home and know that you are loved wherever you are.
Home is where the heart is. May you heart be at home today and every day.
Another wish I have for each of us today is that nothing evil cross our doors. Let’s sing about that in our closing hymn with Robert before we extinguished the chalice and end our service.
April 26 service:
When Hope Is Hard to Find with Video Sermon by Beth Miller Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning, so said Albert Einstein . Hope is a crucial spiritual quality and an important topic at any time, but perhaps even more so now. Without hope, we wouldn’t bother to learn from the past or live with intention in the present. Hope image courtesy clipart.email, |
WHEN HOPE IS HARD TO FIND
The Rev. Beth Miller
April 26, 2020
I am open and
I am willing
For to be hopeless
would seem so strange.
It dishonors those who go before us
So lift me up
To the light of change.
As one of the musical voices for progressive social change throughout my adult life Holly Near’s song brings me hope. Her music has been part of Unitarian Universalist social justice rallies and worship services throughout my 30 year career in ministry. And her words are as true today as when she wrote the song in 2011, although the context is different.
There is hurting, sorrow, panic, and wailing the whole world round, she sings. Holly’s voice, and so many voices, help us kindle hope in this time when hope can be so hard to find. And hope is really important now.
Hope is within each of us; it’s part of being human. Some of us are more hopeful than others, and we can sometimes feel like all hope is lost, but we can rekindle and nurture hope to make it strong.
The word ‘hope’ is one of those words that has become watered down and lost it’s real meaning. In current everyday use, hope is simply thinking about what we want. A contemporary dictionary definition of hope is a wish to get or do something; or for something to happen, or be true, especially something that seems possible or likely.
We speak of specific things we hope for:
“I hope I will get this project done by the deadline."
"I hope it doesn't rain today."
"I hope you have a good time on your birthday."
Or as I say a lot and really mean these days, “I hope you’re well and staying safe.”
Hope in this sense is a rather naive optimism. A deeper and more psychologically oriented understanding of hope has to do with trust or reliance.
Developmental psychologist, Jean Piaget, speaks of hope as an “ego virtue” that we all have in varying degrees. He explored the seeds of hope in the bond between infant and caregiver in the first few months of life. The better the quality and consistency of care during those months, the higher the ratio of trust to mistrust in that child, and the stronger the ego virtue of hope the child develops as they grow.
The pre-Socratic Greek philosopher, Thales, said: “Hope is the only God common to all...; those who have nothing more possess hope still. Without hope life becomes meaningless.”
In "The Inferno" Dante has a sign posted at the gates of Hell: Abandon hope all ye who enter here. The complete lack of hope is, for Dante, the very meaning of Hell. One of Dante's characters asks: “...what gnaws at them so hideously, their lamentations stun the very air?”
He is told: “They have no hope of death.” This is complete and utter hopelessness: endless torment without the expectation of the sweet release of death. This is Dante’s Hell.
We all live from time to time with torment - physical pain, emotional trauma, the grief of loss. Hope makes our torment bearable. We may hope only for an end to- or at least some measure of relief from- our suffering. Or our degree of hopefulness may offer us a larger perspective on life that makes our suffering more bearable. But those who have lost hope altogether must indeed be living in Hell.
Right now, hope may be hard to find for some of us. The capacity, however, is within each of us to rekindle and strengthen our hope. For that to happen, we need to be intentional about nurturing hope in ourselves - and inspiring hope in others whenever we can.
A psychiatrist studying the process of dying writes of an interview with a 28 year old mother who is dying of cancer. She knows she is dying and that she is beyond any reasonable hope for a cure. But still - she has hope - and her hope sustains her.
The hope she holds is that her children will be alright, that they will be taken care of; that her doctors and nurses will give her the best possible care; and that she won't be alone when death comes. Of course, she wishes she could be cured, but for her, it is O.K. to die. Her hope is not in pretending hat her health will improve, but rather a basic acceptance that whatever life she has left still has meaning and purpose. It is by this hope that her suffering is made tolerable.
Vaclav Havel, from his book, Disturbing the Peace, says that for him, especially in situations that seem hopeless, hope is, quote, “above all a state of mind, not a state of the world.”
He says that “hope is not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons. . .”
“Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.”
This is a spiritual understanding of hope. Havel continues: “Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. ...It is ... this hope, above all, that gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem... hopeless....”
That young mother’s hope is the orientation of the heart Havel describes. Her hopefulness allows her to find meaning in her life and to be at peace with her death.
This spiritual understanding of hope is embedded in our Unitarian Universalist principles. Affirming and promoting the worth and dignity of all people; acceptance and encouragement to spiritual growth; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning. These are hopeful affirmations that call us to that larger perspective on life where hope isn’t only personal, but, in recognition of our interconnectedness with all of life, for a greater good.
The Catholic Benedictine monk, Brother David Steindl-Rast is notable for his work with interfaith dialogue and the interaction between spirituality and science. “Hope,” he says, “is the virtue of the pilgrim.” A pilgrim is anyone who engages in a spiritual journey. Hope is the virtue of the pilgrim. He also says that hope is “openness for surprise.”
Life always brings surprises. Openness to surprise is an essential component of hope.
William Sloan Coffin who died in 2006 was another Christian clergyman who Unitarian Universalist ministers appreciate. He said that hope is “a passion for the possible.”
When we think about these two very similar statements about hope - openness for surprise and a passion for the possible – we understand that being too attached to our specific hopes can sometimes conflict with hope itself in this larger sense. We all have examples in our own lives of things we had hoped for that didn't happen. And of course we were disappointed. But if we become stuck in our disappointment and regrets about unfulfilled hopes, we can easily miss the possibility in the surprises life offers us in the wake of our dashed hopes.
Hope in this larger spiritual sense, hope as an orientation of the heart, is knowing that we will have the resources we need to meet the challenges that arise in life. How do we know this?
Because we are here. We’ve been through hard times before. And we’ve met the challenges. And we’re still here, together. We can let go of disappointment and regret and be open and willing to put our hope in life’s possibilities.
Again, Brother David’s words: “Hope looks at all things the way a mother looks at her child -- with a passion for the possible. ... that way of looking is creative. It creates the space in which perfection can unfold. More than that, the eyes of hope look through all imperfection to the heart of all things and find it perfect. The eyes of hope are grateful eyes. Before our eyes learn to look gratefully at the world, we expect to find beauty in good looking things. But grateful eyes expect the surprise of finding beauty in all things.”
Possibility, beauty, perfection are at the heart of all things. It takes hopeful eyes to see things that way. In this hard time, let us nurture and strengthen this hope by taking care of ourselves physically, mentally and spiritually and by extending ourselves to others in loving kindness. Being depleted and stressed out makes hope harder to find. So please, let’s be kind to ourselves. Think about what you need and if at all possible, give it to yourself.
Reduce the negative. Cut down on your intake of the news. I’m a bit of a news junky myself, but too much of it right now is detrimental to our emotional, and maybe even our physical health. The constant barrage of it can make it seem hopeless some times.
Instead, find ways to increase the positive.
You can create a daily five minute ritual. Light a candle and meditate, journal, pray, or simply reflect. No particular belief is necessary for this to be helpful.
Take breaks, move around and get some exercise, especially if you are working at home and, like me, have to make an effort to stop and attend to your needs.
Try, every day, to go outside and look at the sky. Breathe deeply and invite gratitude. Even though the world is in a mess right now, the sun still rises each morning, and we are awake and alive. Let the sky be a touchstone to hope. Remember that people around the world look at the same sun. We all share this planet, and together, we can get through this pandemic and maybe even make the world a better place.
Treat each day like a precious gift and be grateful. Be vigilant at looking for things and people to appreciate. Daily acts of self-care are restorative and healing. They feed our sense of hopefulness.
We also nurture hope by reaching out to others. Within the boundaries of social distancing, be discriminately generous in expressing your love and compassion in hugs, words, notes, and acts of kindness. Surprise a friend with a phone call. Hug your family members longer and with deeper feeling.
Be especially kind to those who serve you as you go about your necessary errands, and thank them.These are the people we take for granted normally as they go about their jobs, but right now, they are risking their lives to meet our ordinary needs.When we extend ourselves in kindness and gratitude, we not only make a difference in the lives of others, we strengthen hope in ourselves, and add a little more peace to the world.
The Rev. David Eaton, minister of All Souls UU Church in Washington, DC in the 1970s and 80s, said, “The church is that institution whose primary purpose is to help people discover, create and maintain hope in their lives. When people have no hope, they discover hope together. When they cannot discover hope, they create hope together.”
I reminded you a couple of weeks ago that we are the church. We are here to support one another. We are also here to reach out to a hurting world in whatever ways we can. Together, may we nurture and spread hope. Amen.
The Rev. Beth Miller
April 26, 2020
I am open and
I am willing
For to be hopeless
would seem so strange.
It dishonors those who go before us
So lift me up
To the light of change.
As one of the musical voices for progressive social change throughout my adult life Holly Near’s song brings me hope. Her music has been part of Unitarian Universalist social justice rallies and worship services throughout my 30 year career in ministry. And her words are as true today as when she wrote the song in 2011, although the context is different.
There is hurting, sorrow, panic, and wailing the whole world round, she sings. Holly’s voice, and so many voices, help us kindle hope in this time when hope can be so hard to find. And hope is really important now.
Hope is within each of us; it’s part of being human. Some of us are more hopeful than others, and we can sometimes feel like all hope is lost, but we can rekindle and nurture hope to make it strong.
The word ‘hope’ is one of those words that has become watered down and lost it’s real meaning. In current everyday use, hope is simply thinking about what we want. A contemporary dictionary definition of hope is a wish to get or do something; or for something to happen, or be true, especially something that seems possible or likely.
We speak of specific things we hope for:
“I hope I will get this project done by the deadline."
"I hope it doesn't rain today."
"I hope you have a good time on your birthday."
Or as I say a lot and really mean these days, “I hope you’re well and staying safe.”
Hope in this sense is a rather naive optimism. A deeper and more psychologically oriented understanding of hope has to do with trust or reliance.
Developmental psychologist, Jean Piaget, speaks of hope as an “ego virtue” that we all have in varying degrees. He explored the seeds of hope in the bond between infant and caregiver in the first few months of life. The better the quality and consistency of care during those months, the higher the ratio of trust to mistrust in that child, and the stronger the ego virtue of hope the child develops as they grow.
The pre-Socratic Greek philosopher, Thales, said: “Hope is the only God common to all...; those who have nothing more possess hope still. Without hope life becomes meaningless.”
In "The Inferno" Dante has a sign posted at the gates of Hell: Abandon hope all ye who enter here. The complete lack of hope is, for Dante, the very meaning of Hell. One of Dante's characters asks: “...what gnaws at them so hideously, their lamentations stun the very air?”
He is told: “They have no hope of death.” This is complete and utter hopelessness: endless torment without the expectation of the sweet release of death. This is Dante’s Hell.
We all live from time to time with torment - physical pain, emotional trauma, the grief of loss. Hope makes our torment bearable. We may hope only for an end to- or at least some measure of relief from- our suffering. Or our degree of hopefulness may offer us a larger perspective on life that makes our suffering more bearable. But those who have lost hope altogether must indeed be living in Hell.
Right now, hope may be hard to find for some of us. The capacity, however, is within each of us to rekindle and strengthen our hope. For that to happen, we need to be intentional about nurturing hope in ourselves - and inspiring hope in others whenever we can.
A psychiatrist studying the process of dying writes of an interview with a 28 year old mother who is dying of cancer. She knows she is dying and that she is beyond any reasonable hope for a cure. But still - she has hope - and her hope sustains her.
The hope she holds is that her children will be alright, that they will be taken care of; that her doctors and nurses will give her the best possible care; and that she won't be alone when death comes. Of course, she wishes she could be cured, but for her, it is O.K. to die. Her hope is not in pretending hat her health will improve, but rather a basic acceptance that whatever life she has left still has meaning and purpose. It is by this hope that her suffering is made tolerable.
Vaclav Havel, from his book, Disturbing the Peace, says that for him, especially in situations that seem hopeless, hope is, quote, “above all a state of mind, not a state of the world.”
He says that “hope is not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons. . .”
“Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.”
This is a spiritual understanding of hope. Havel continues: “Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. ...It is ... this hope, above all, that gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem... hopeless....”
That young mother’s hope is the orientation of the heart Havel describes. Her hopefulness allows her to find meaning in her life and to be at peace with her death.
This spiritual understanding of hope is embedded in our Unitarian Universalist principles. Affirming and promoting the worth and dignity of all people; acceptance and encouragement to spiritual growth; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning. These are hopeful affirmations that call us to that larger perspective on life where hope isn’t only personal, but, in recognition of our interconnectedness with all of life, for a greater good.
The Catholic Benedictine monk, Brother David Steindl-Rast is notable for his work with interfaith dialogue and the interaction between spirituality and science. “Hope,” he says, “is the virtue of the pilgrim.” A pilgrim is anyone who engages in a spiritual journey. Hope is the virtue of the pilgrim. He also says that hope is “openness for surprise.”
Life always brings surprises. Openness to surprise is an essential component of hope.
William Sloan Coffin who died in 2006 was another Christian clergyman who Unitarian Universalist ministers appreciate. He said that hope is “a passion for the possible.”
When we think about these two very similar statements about hope - openness for surprise and a passion for the possible – we understand that being too attached to our specific hopes can sometimes conflict with hope itself in this larger sense. We all have examples in our own lives of things we had hoped for that didn't happen. And of course we were disappointed. But if we become stuck in our disappointment and regrets about unfulfilled hopes, we can easily miss the possibility in the surprises life offers us in the wake of our dashed hopes.
Hope in this larger spiritual sense, hope as an orientation of the heart, is knowing that we will have the resources we need to meet the challenges that arise in life. How do we know this?
Because we are here. We’ve been through hard times before. And we’ve met the challenges. And we’re still here, together. We can let go of disappointment and regret and be open and willing to put our hope in life’s possibilities.
Again, Brother David’s words: “Hope looks at all things the way a mother looks at her child -- with a passion for the possible. ... that way of looking is creative. It creates the space in which perfection can unfold. More than that, the eyes of hope look through all imperfection to the heart of all things and find it perfect. The eyes of hope are grateful eyes. Before our eyes learn to look gratefully at the world, we expect to find beauty in good looking things. But grateful eyes expect the surprise of finding beauty in all things.”
Possibility, beauty, perfection are at the heart of all things. It takes hopeful eyes to see things that way. In this hard time, let us nurture and strengthen this hope by taking care of ourselves physically, mentally and spiritually and by extending ourselves to others in loving kindness. Being depleted and stressed out makes hope harder to find. So please, let’s be kind to ourselves. Think about what you need and if at all possible, give it to yourself.
Reduce the negative. Cut down on your intake of the news. I’m a bit of a news junky myself, but too much of it right now is detrimental to our emotional, and maybe even our physical health. The constant barrage of it can make it seem hopeless some times.
Instead, find ways to increase the positive.
You can create a daily five minute ritual. Light a candle and meditate, journal, pray, or simply reflect. No particular belief is necessary for this to be helpful.
Take breaks, move around and get some exercise, especially if you are working at home and, like me, have to make an effort to stop and attend to your needs.
Try, every day, to go outside and look at the sky. Breathe deeply and invite gratitude. Even though the world is in a mess right now, the sun still rises each morning, and we are awake and alive. Let the sky be a touchstone to hope. Remember that people around the world look at the same sun. We all share this planet, and together, we can get through this pandemic and maybe even make the world a better place.
Treat each day like a precious gift and be grateful. Be vigilant at looking for things and people to appreciate. Daily acts of self-care are restorative and healing. They feed our sense of hopefulness.
We also nurture hope by reaching out to others. Within the boundaries of social distancing, be discriminately generous in expressing your love and compassion in hugs, words, notes, and acts of kindness. Surprise a friend with a phone call. Hug your family members longer and with deeper feeling.
Be especially kind to those who serve you as you go about your necessary errands, and thank them.These are the people we take for granted normally as they go about their jobs, but right now, they are risking their lives to meet our ordinary needs.When we extend ourselves in kindness and gratitude, we not only make a difference in the lives of others, we strengthen hope in ourselves, and add a little more peace to the world.
The Rev. David Eaton, minister of All Souls UU Church in Washington, DC in the 1970s and 80s, said, “The church is that institution whose primary purpose is to help people discover, create and maintain hope in their lives. When people have no hope, they discover hope together. When they cannot discover hope, they create hope together.”
I reminded you a couple of weeks ago that we are the church. We are here to support one another. We are also here to reach out to a hurting world in whatever ways we can. Together, may we nurture and spread hope. Amen.
April 19 service:
Listen to the Earth Video Service by Catherine Bonner and Mary Lou Keller Join us in celebrating the 50th anniversary of Earth Day that occurs on April 22nd. Uplifting stories and recognition of those who every day work to help our Earth and all those who occupy this beautiful space. (See video below.) |
Listen to the Earth
Hi. I am Catherine Bonner the Director of Religious Education here at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota. I am coming to you from my home in Bradenton as we all continue to shelter at home to help flatten the curve on Covid 19.
Listen to the Earth! For millennia, those that are close to the earth have been pleading with others to listen to the earth and to learn to live in harmony with nature. These environmentalists understood the interplay of humans and the natural world, and interdependence which Unitarian Universalists recognize in our 7th principle.
Here in the US, early pioneers of environmentalism such as Henry David Thoreau argued that people should become close with nature and John Muir, who believed in Nature’s inherent rights, helped establish the first National Parks in the late 1800’s
Yet this plea, Listen to the Earth, only gained a national and then international foothold 50 years ago when Gaylord Nelson, a Wisconsin senator, with bi-partisan support, created the first Earth Day on April 22, 1970. It was a national teach-in on the environment. It is estimated that 20 million or 10% of the US population participated on that first Earth Day. Today, Earth Day is widely recognized as the largest secular observance in the world. More than a billion people every year take a day of action to change human behavior and provoke policy changes.
Against today’s political landscape several questions arise. What was the catalyst to create Earth Day? How was Gaylord able to get bi-partisan support? And what policy changes did Earth Day affect?
To explore how Earth Day was established, it is meaningful to understand a bit about Gaylord Nelson. Gaylord was born in 1916 (the same year the National Park Service was established) in a small town in rural Wisconsin. His father was a doctor, his mom a nurse, and both were active as progressive Republicans. He often helped his father with house calls and learned to serve others. Dinner time conversations included big picture questions such as “What do you think caused the first World War?” or “Why did Chicago get to be so big?” His small town upbringing encouraged him to be independent but demanded civility and honesty.
Gaylord felt that environmental issues were quite important but often ignored by politicians he started his political career as a Democratic State Senator in Wisconsin before being elected as the Governor in 1958. As governor, Gaylord convinced his Republican state congress to pass the Outdoor Recreation Act Program, a one-cent tax on cigarettes to raise dollars to buy a million acres of land to preserve. Elected to the U.S. Senate in 1962, Gaylord continued his environmental activism. He worked to have pollution from cars regulated, promoted the protection of the oceans, and to protect the national wildernesses from exploitation. He helped to get the pesticide, DDT, and Agent Orange eradicated. But the catalyst for Earth day came in 1969 after Gaylord visited Santa Barbara California to witness the effects of a recent oil spill off the coast. He used the energy of the anti-war protest movement to put environmental concerns on the front page. He enlisted mayors and governors from a number of states to organize events to heighten national awareness of environmental issues. Gaylord’s purpose of Earth Day was to “get a nationwide demonstration of concern for the environment so large that it would shake the political establishment out of its lethargy.”
So how was he successful in gaining bi-partisan support? Let’s first recognize that our 2 party political system is set-up to be divisive, which it was 50 years ago, but that our politics are more polarized since then. The polarization of America is another sermon or two.
Gaylord had the ability to reach across the aisle by learning and listening to other people’s stories, what was their background, what made them tick, what drove them, and what did they do when not on the Senate floor. He and his wife frequently entertained both Democratic and Republican Senators. It endeared him to others even those not philosophically in step with him. Civility and compromise were the keys for Gaylord. Here is how he summarized his success. “Some people dislike people who don’t agree with them. But I never personalized it. If you’re mad and you carry a grudge, it hurts you more than the person you hold the grudge against.” A true statement about human nature. I think that Gaylord was successful because he was able to frame his position in such a way as to make it an issue for those opposing the change. Here is his example from his 1995 Earth Day address:
I have a friend whose guiding theology for all political matters is the editorial page of the Wall Street Journal. He could never quite understand that there is a direct and beneficial connection between a healthy environment and a prosperous economy until I described the connection in the jargon of his business world. I said to him, ‘Look at it this way. The economy is a wholly owned subsidiary of the environment. All the economic activity is dependent upon that environment with its underlying resource base. When the environment is finally forced to file a chapter 11 because its resource base has been polluted, degraded, dissipated, or irretrievably compromised, then the economy goes down into bankruptcy with it because the economy is just a subset within the ecological system.”
So what did Earth Day accomplish? As the power and public support of Earth Day was realized, Congress passed important environmental laws with Gaylord playing a role in their creation. Just 7 months after the first Earth Day, President Nixon created a new federal department, the Environmental Protection Agency or EPA. The Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, The Environmental Protection Act and the Endangered Species Act were some of the key pieces of legislation which gave the EPA powers to regulate air and water pollution, require environmental impact studies, and protect species at risk of extinction. These laws were passed on a bi-partisan basis and they worked with greater success than critics predicted, and at a cost to businesses less than forecasted.
So if those laws made a positive impact on the environment, why is our environment in such dire straits? There has always been a push pull between environmentalists and industrialists. Since the passing of those laws, environmentalists have been more successful in influencing the EPA to pass more stringent standards versus industrialists in easing restrictions at least until this current administration. But even the years of higher standards cannot offset the increase of worldwide greenhouse gas emissions and other pollutants as a result of increased population, consumerism, and industrialization of the world.
Let’s review some relevant facts:
The Earth’s population increased from 3.7 billion in 1970 to 7.8 billion today.
37% of the Earth’s population in 1970 lived in urban areas versus 56% today.
CO2 emissions were 15.7 billion tons in 1971 versus 35.7 billion tons in 2016.
CO2 emissions per person rose from 4.15 tons to 4.79 tons in the same period.
It is clear to me that more than doubling the Earth’s population likely had the biggest impact on CO2 emissions which itself is the biggest factor of global climate change. The rise in per person emissions could be attributed to continued industrialization of the world along with a more interconnected global economy built upon consumerism including the production, processing, transportation and wasting of food stuffs. The result, global climate change from a warmer earth that impacts us all whether we acknowledge it or not.
EEK! So how do we reverse the human effect on the global climate? Well no one is advocating for a global war or pandemic to reduce the human population. So we need to do what is within our control to reduce our carbon footprint. Since the 1970’s environmentalism is taught in the schools and in the media. Many of us continue to be environmental activists in our own small ways. Each little bit helps. Here are some of our activist’s and what they do to help the earth.
VIDEO
What a variety of things that we do to help the Earth and I am sure if you think about your own habits that you have things that you do as well like using LED lights versus incandescent, riding bikes versus driving cars, and in today’s world, staying at home and conserving your resources.
We have not touched upon this pandemic and how it has effected the environment. There have been lots of theories on why we have this pandemic, from the debunked theory that it was a biological weapon developed by the Chinese that got out of the lab or an inexplicable act of God or an explicable, if surprising, natural event. Whatever the cause, I like to think that this is Mother Nature’s way of bonking us on the head since we clearly have not been listening to her other warnings.
Listen to the Earth. No seriously, listen to the earth. People are now reporting seeing animals where they once were not seen, hearing birds and animals that they have not heard before, and seeing blues skies or clear waters that a few weeks ago were clogged with thick pollution. But what these people do not seem to realize is that these animals and birds have always been there lost in the shuffle of human noise and suppressed by human activity. Hear how more peaceful the world sounds, how the stillness reduces the stress of constant movement. The blue skies are a direct result of people not burning fossil fuels to get where they or their goods need to go. Clearer waters are due to sediment settling to the floor without the constant human activity stirring it up. Google it, it is astounding to see.
Each of us has the ability to be an environment superhero. But today’s superhero comes from the generation most impacted by this climate crisis. The movement inspired by Greta Thunberg is energizing. Here are a few pictures of us that joined her movement in Sarasota followed by two poems recited by our newest environmental warriors.
Pictures and videos
To become an environment superhero and make systemic changes may require the skills of Gaylord Nelson; learning how to listen, understanding the opposing view and communicating your concerns in terms that matter to them. Civility and compromise are key. In his 1970 Earth Day speech, Gaylord Nelson stated, “our goal is not just an environment of clean air, and water and scenic beauty. The objective is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all human beings and all other living creatures.” Groups like the Sunrise Movement, a youth-led organization, are looking to combat climate change and provide sustainable living for all humans economically and socially. It is not an either/ or proposition but one recognizing that economics and the climate are intertwined.
The positive effects to the environment from the Covid 19 pandemic are only temporary. Hopefully long lasting effects will come from individuals changing habits because of the good lessons from this pandemic; slow down, have some quiet time; don’t consume more than you need, it doesn’t bring happiness or security; be loving to each other because you don’t know when you can see them again; and protect the earth, if it is unhealthy then so are we. Collectively the world has agreed to sacrifices to secure the health of humans. Maybe we can agree to sacrifices to secure the health of the Earth.
Let us now watch a final video before our closing words. This song was put together in 2015 by multiple artists to rally people to climate action and in support of the U.N.’s efforts to get nations to agree on a universal climate agreement.
Hi. I am Catherine Bonner the Director of Religious Education here at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota. I am coming to you from my home in Bradenton as we all continue to shelter at home to help flatten the curve on Covid 19.
Listen to the Earth! For millennia, those that are close to the earth have been pleading with others to listen to the earth and to learn to live in harmony with nature. These environmentalists understood the interplay of humans and the natural world, and interdependence which Unitarian Universalists recognize in our 7th principle.
Here in the US, early pioneers of environmentalism such as Henry David Thoreau argued that people should become close with nature and John Muir, who believed in Nature’s inherent rights, helped establish the first National Parks in the late 1800’s
Yet this plea, Listen to the Earth, only gained a national and then international foothold 50 years ago when Gaylord Nelson, a Wisconsin senator, with bi-partisan support, created the first Earth Day on April 22, 1970. It was a national teach-in on the environment. It is estimated that 20 million or 10% of the US population participated on that first Earth Day. Today, Earth Day is widely recognized as the largest secular observance in the world. More than a billion people every year take a day of action to change human behavior and provoke policy changes.
Against today’s political landscape several questions arise. What was the catalyst to create Earth Day? How was Gaylord able to get bi-partisan support? And what policy changes did Earth Day affect?
To explore how Earth Day was established, it is meaningful to understand a bit about Gaylord Nelson. Gaylord was born in 1916 (the same year the National Park Service was established) in a small town in rural Wisconsin. His father was a doctor, his mom a nurse, and both were active as progressive Republicans. He often helped his father with house calls and learned to serve others. Dinner time conversations included big picture questions such as “What do you think caused the first World War?” or “Why did Chicago get to be so big?” His small town upbringing encouraged him to be independent but demanded civility and honesty.
Gaylord felt that environmental issues were quite important but often ignored by politicians he started his political career as a Democratic State Senator in Wisconsin before being elected as the Governor in 1958. As governor, Gaylord convinced his Republican state congress to pass the Outdoor Recreation Act Program, a one-cent tax on cigarettes to raise dollars to buy a million acres of land to preserve. Elected to the U.S. Senate in 1962, Gaylord continued his environmental activism. He worked to have pollution from cars regulated, promoted the protection of the oceans, and to protect the national wildernesses from exploitation. He helped to get the pesticide, DDT, and Agent Orange eradicated. But the catalyst for Earth day came in 1969 after Gaylord visited Santa Barbara California to witness the effects of a recent oil spill off the coast. He used the energy of the anti-war protest movement to put environmental concerns on the front page. He enlisted mayors and governors from a number of states to organize events to heighten national awareness of environmental issues. Gaylord’s purpose of Earth Day was to “get a nationwide demonstration of concern for the environment so large that it would shake the political establishment out of its lethargy.”
So how was he successful in gaining bi-partisan support? Let’s first recognize that our 2 party political system is set-up to be divisive, which it was 50 years ago, but that our politics are more polarized since then. The polarization of America is another sermon or two.
Gaylord had the ability to reach across the aisle by learning and listening to other people’s stories, what was their background, what made them tick, what drove them, and what did they do when not on the Senate floor. He and his wife frequently entertained both Democratic and Republican Senators. It endeared him to others even those not philosophically in step with him. Civility and compromise were the keys for Gaylord. Here is how he summarized his success. “Some people dislike people who don’t agree with them. But I never personalized it. If you’re mad and you carry a grudge, it hurts you more than the person you hold the grudge against.” A true statement about human nature. I think that Gaylord was successful because he was able to frame his position in such a way as to make it an issue for those opposing the change. Here is his example from his 1995 Earth Day address:
I have a friend whose guiding theology for all political matters is the editorial page of the Wall Street Journal. He could never quite understand that there is a direct and beneficial connection between a healthy environment and a prosperous economy until I described the connection in the jargon of his business world. I said to him, ‘Look at it this way. The economy is a wholly owned subsidiary of the environment. All the economic activity is dependent upon that environment with its underlying resource base. When the environment is finally forced to file a chapter 11 because its resource base has been polluted, degraded, dissipated, or irretrievably compromised, then the economy goes down into bankruptcy with it because the economy is just a subset within the ecological system.”
So what did Earth Day accomplish? As the power and public support of Earth Day was realized, Congress passed important environmental laws with Gaylord playing a role in their creation. Just 7 months after the first Earth Day, President Nixon created a new federal department, the Environmental Protection Agency or EPA. The Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, The Environmental Protection Act and the Endangered Species Act were some of the key pieces of legislation which gave the EPA powers to regulate air and water pollution, require environmental impact studies, and protect species at risk of extinction. These laws were passed on a bi-partisan basis and they worked with greater success than critics predicted, and at a cost to businesses less than forecasted.
So if those laws made a positive impact on the environment, why is our environment in such dire straits? There has always been a push pull between environmentalists and industrialists. Since the passing of those laws, environmentalists have been more successful in influencing the EPA to pass more stringent standards versus industrialists in easing restrictions at least until this current administration. But even the years of higher standards cannot offset the increase of worldwide greenhouse gas emissions and other pollutants as a result of increased population, consumerism, and industrialization of the world.
Let’s review some relevant facts:
The Earth’s population increased from 3.7 billion in 1970 to 7.8 billion today.
37% of the Earth’s population in 1970 lived in urban areas versus 56% today.
CO2 emissions were 15.7 billion tons in 1971 versus 35.7 billion tons in 2016.
CO2 emissions per person rose from 4.15 tons to 4.79 tons in the same period.
It is clear to me that more than doubling the Earth’s population likely had the biggest impact on CO2 emissions which itself is the biggest factor of global climate change. The rise in per person emissions could be attributed to continued industrialization of the world along with a more interconnected global economy built upon consumerism including the production, processing, transportation and wasting of food stuffs. The result, global climate change from a warmer earth that impacts us all whether we acknowledge it or not.
EEK! So how do we reverse the human effect on the global climate? Well no one is advocating for a global war or pandemic to reduce the human population. So we need to do what is within our control to reduce our carbon footprint. Since the 1970’s environmentalism is taught in the schools and in the media. Many of us continue to be environmental activists in our own small ways. Each little bit helps. Here are some of our activist’s and what they do to help the earth.
VIDEO
What a variety of things that we do to help the Earth and I am sure if you think about your own habits that you have things that you do as well like using LED lights versus incandescent, riding bikes versus driving cars, and in today’s world, staying at home and conserving your resources.
We have not touched upon this pandemic and how it has effected the environment. There have been lots of theories on why we have this pandemic, from the debunked theory that it was a biological weapon developed by the Chinese that got out of the lab or an inexplicable act of God or an explicable, if surprising, natural event. Whatever the cause, I like to think that this is Mother Nature’s way of bonking us on the head since we clearly have not been listening to her other warnings.
Listen to the Earth. No seriously, listen to the earth. People are now reporting seeing animals where they once were not seen, hearing birds and animals that they have not heard before, and seeing blues skies or clear waters that a few weeks ago were clogged with thick pollution. But what these people do not seem to realize is that these animals and birds have always been there lost in the shuffle of human noise and suppressed by human activity. Hear how more peaceful the world sounds, how the stillness reduces the stress of constant movement. The blue skies are a direct result of people not burning fossil fuels to get where they or their goods need to go. Clearer waters are due to sediment settling to the floor without the constant human activity stirring it up. Google it, it is astounding to see.
Each of us has the ability to be an environment superhero. But today’s superhero comes from the generation most impacted by this climate crisis. The movement inspired by Greta Thunberg is energizing. Here are a few pictures of us that joined her movement in Sarasota followed by two poems recited by our newest environmental warriors.
Pictures and videos
To become an environment superhero and make systemic changes may require the skills of Gaylord Nelson; learning how to listen, understanding the opposing view and communicating your concerns in terms that matter to them. Civility and compromise are key. In his 1970 Earth Day speech, Gaylord Nelson stated, “our goal is not just an environment of clean air, and water and scenic beauty. The objective is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all human beings and all other living creatures.” Groups like the Sunrise Movement, a youth-led organization, are looking to combat climate change and provide sustainable living for all humans economically and socially. It is not an either/ or proposition but one recognizing that economics and the climate are intertwined.
The positive effects to the environment from the Covid 19 pandemic are only temporary. Hopefully long lasting effects will come from individuals changing habits because of the good lessons from this pandemic; slow down, have some quiet time; don’t consume more than you need, it doesn’t bring happiness or security; be loving to each other because you don’t know when you can see them again; and protect the earth, if it is unhealthy then so are we. Collectively the world has agreed to sacrifices to secure the health of humans. Maybe we can agree to sacrifices to secure the health of the Earth.
Let us now watch a final video before our closing words. This song was put together in 2015 by multiple artists to rally people to climate action and in support of the U.N.’s efforts to get nations to agree on a universal climate agreement.
April 12 service:
Easter and Passover
for Unitarian Universalists
Video Sermon by Beth Miller
The Jewish and Christian high holy days of springtime have always been intertwined and harken back to Pagan celebrations predating them both. The universal human themes of being spared in a time of tragedy and the promise of new life resonate as we continue to live with the uncertainty of the pandemic .
(See video below.)
Easter and Passover
for Unitarian Universalists
Video Sermon by Beth Miller
The Jewish and Christian high holy days of springtime have always been intertwined and harken back to Pagan celebrations predating them both. The universal human themes of being spared in a time of tragedy and the promise of new life resonate as we continue to live with the uncertainty of the pandemic .
(See video below.)
Easter and Passover for Unitarian Universalists
By Rev. Beth Miller
April 12, 2020
Lynn Unger in our Centering Words asks how much toilet paper will make us safe and suggests that we be multilayered and soft and strong. Good advice.
Fr. Hendrick in his lovely poem, Lockdown, acknowledges our fear and isolation. They are real, and they are significant. He also lifts up many blessing in the wake of this lockdown, especially the resurgence of nature and the kindness of neighbors, reminding us of the both/and nature of human life.
In my Contact column this week I shared the wisdom of the Dove Dark chocolate wrappers, one of which said: “after every storm there’s a rainbow no matter how long it takes to show up.”
My message this week is pretty simple. We’re in the midst of a crisis and it’s gonna go on for a while and will get worse before it gets better. But/and ... there are blessings along the way, if we take notice and embrace them. We will get there, whatever there actually means in this crazy time.
Millions of people around the world are in the middle of Passover commemorating the foundational story of 400 years of the Hebrew people’s enslavement in Egypt, the plagues God sent to convince Pharaoh to free them, their dramatic escape as Moses led them into the wilderness where they wandered for 40 years on their journey to reach the promised land. Jews retold the story in ritual at (mostly virtual) Seder dinners on Wednesday evening.
On this day, all over the world, people are celebrating Easter, the central event of the Christian religion and the most holy day of the Christian year. It’s the story of Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem with people lining the streets in his honor. But then he was betrayed, tried and convicted of bogus crimes, crucified, buried in a cave, and apparently rose on the third day and made several appearances before ascending into heaven.
Whether we identify theologically with Christians or Jews or neither, these stories are part of our roots as Unitarian Universalists. Jesus was a Jew and his intention was not to start a new religion, but to reform the Judaism he believed had become corrupt. But after his death, his followers and their followers established Christianity, a new religion in his name.
Over the next 2000 years, Christianity grew, changed, became corrupt, went through numerous reformations and splits, and today the denominations are so varied that there’s no real consensus about Christian doctrine.
Both Unitarianism and Universalism were Christian churches that tried to reform their denominations. That didn’t work, so they each split off, created new denominations, and eventually joined together to become Unitarian Universalism.
Unitarian Universalism went on to incorporate teachings from other world religions and from secular philosophy, science and humanism, and to become the “big tent” religion it is today that welcomes many beliefs.
Passover and Easter sound like such fanciful stories to our modern, scientific minds. But for all the doubt and denial of the mythical aspects, these foundational stories of our religious ancestors speak to larger, universal truths beyond the facts. Like the stories of all religions and enduring myths, they help us to recognize and understand the human condition. They tell us how others, it days of yore, endured the hardships and embraced the blessings of being human. They speak of truths that are beyond our ability to comprehend and explain directly.
For example, science tells us what happens to us physically when we fall in love: our heart beats faster, our hormone production increases, our minds get fixed on the object of our affection, and our judgement might be compromised. Those are facts, but they don’t begin to tell us what love is. Philosophers, poets, fiction and song writers have produced tomes trying to define it, but we still can’t say precisely what love is except with fanciful metaphors. But, we know that love exists. We’ve experienced it.
Likewise, these these foundational stories told by our religious ancestors are stories of courage and faith in the midst of horrible conditions of fear and grief. And they’re stories of resilience, renewal, and resurrection following periods of crisis and of challenges that humankind has faced since the beginning of time and will continue to endure. They point to the fear, anger, sadness, despair and grief that are part of the human condition.
And they tell us that even with all that they suffered and all that was lost along the way, the people came through. For the Jews, it was the promised land. For Christians, it was resurrection.
These are the deeper truths of our common human experiences. It’s a hard world we live in and it always has been. But it is also a beautiful world full of blessings.
We as the wealthy, privileged nation that we are, have been spared much of the hardship many people in many lands go through. And most of us in this congregation have been spared most of the worst hardships that many of our neighbors right here go through. But here we are now in an international pandemic, the worst of which will spare many individuals, but which affects us all.
Now, at this point, I would love to skip right on to the positive part of today’s sermon, but I have to be honest with you. We’re in a very hard place and it’s likely to get worse before it gets better. We have to tell ourselves the truth about that. We have to name our fear and our grief.
If I just told you that everything’s okay and we’re going to be fine, you would know intuitively that I wasn’t being authentic with you. I have to tell you my truth. I’m fearful. I’m grieving the past that we’ve lost. And I’m uncertain about the future that is far from coming into view yet. And I think many of you have similar feelings.
And that said, I’m mostly about the bright side. I always go to the positive possibilities first and deal with the negative if it happens. I pretty much follow that old axiom attributed to Mohammad: trust God, but tie your camel. But, my friends, this is too big and too scary not to name and acknowledge.
Once we get it on the table, though; once we’ve identified this enormous elephant in the room, we can more fully appreciate and embrace the many promises and resurrections that appear as we await and participate in creating whatever the new normal will be on the other side of this crisis.
In their 2018 book, Stephanie Marston, international strategy and leadership expert, and Ama Marston a stress and work-life expert psychologist, write about turning setbacks into advantages. I confess, I didn’t read the book. But I read a good summary of it by Kristin Wong in The NY Times.
Stephanie and Ama Marston lay out six stages of transformational change starting with normal which is our comfort zone where things are relatively okay in our lives. That’s where we were in February. Yes, there was political intrigue, our racial and cultural issues, and worries about climate change. But we were used to them and doing what we could to address them. It was frustrating, but ok.
And then, stage two comes along and we experience a significant disruption. There’s an outbreak of a new, highly contagious virus in China that spreads throughout the world, arriving in Florida in March. This tsunami of a pandemic is our major disruption. This throws us into their third stages: chaos, where we are now in April.
In stages four, five and six a catalyst emerges, we move towards something new, and finally become comfortable with our new normal. We’re still in stage three of this model of change, so let’s go back there, back to chaos where we are struggling to make sense of our shattered reality.
In chaos, we may start out in denial, telling ourselves that it isn’t so bad and will probably be over soon. This can be comforting and helpful — for awhile. But the truth always catches up with us.
So here we are in the chaos stage and we’re hit with the truth that this is really big and is likely to get worse and go on longer than we had hoped. How do we cope? What can we do to help ourselves and our loved ones and each other here in our faith community?
I don’t know for sure because I’ve not lived through a major pandemic and they don’t teach you this stuff in seminary. We’re creating the path as we walk it, 6 feet apart, and it’s an emotional and a spiritual path. I believe we need to do two things: deal honestly with our feelings about this tragedy and practice gratitude for the gifts that come along with it. And we can walk both sides of this path at the same time.
Dealing with our fear, anger and grief doesn’t take those feelings away, but it does deflate them. Scott Betinato in a recent Harvard Review Article said: “There is something powerful about naming this as grief. It helps us feel what’s inside of us. So many have told me in the past week, “I’m telling my coworkers I’m having a hard time,” or “I cried last night.” When you name it, you feel it and it moves through you. Emotions need motion. It’s important we acknowledge what we go through.”
Another recent article said that grief is about “turning inward to recalibrate so that we can adapt”.
We’ve lost many things we take for granted. I encourage you to acknowledge and process these feelings in whatever ways are helpful to you. Journal if that helps. Talk with family and friends if you can. And I invite you to let the church support you.
On the other side of this path we walk are gifts and blessings that this crisis is bringing forth every day. Walking this side means noticing them and practicing gratitude.
Fr. Hendrick, named many in the poem we heard earlier:
Hearing birds again
Clearer skies
People singing to each other through open windows
Neighbors helping neighbors..... And more.
He says breathe; open the windows of your soul; sing.
Many of you have told me about gifts this has brought into your lives:
The church isn’t the buildings or the ministers, staff and lay leaders; it’s all of us together. We are the church. You are the church. And we, the church, are here to share the load and help one another. I believe Connection is the greatest gift we can offer one another at this time. We talk of social isolation, but instead, let’s be physically isolated and socially connected.
I know we’re doing a lot to stay connected through recorded Sunday services, numerous Zoom groups, phone calls made and help extended, emails and texts sent. And one of the things I love about this church is how members reach out and connect informally with one another. Let’s continue to create both sides of this path we’re walking together.
If you have something to offer or suggest, please contact us. If you need help getting connected, especially if you’re new or haven’t been around for awhile, please reach out. Budd’s and my contact information is right here on the website. We have Pastoral Associates and Caring Committee members available to be phone or email buddies. We, together, are the church and the church is here for all of us.
The stories of Passover and Easter are about courage and endurance and faith in the midst of chaos, fear and grief. They are stories of resilience, reminding us that we are here because of the strength and resilience of many generations before us.
For Jews, there was a promised land and the assurance that eventually, there will always be deliverance.
For Christians, there was crucifixion and resurrection and the assurance that human life rises from destruction and despair again and again.
We, too, will endure, my dear friends. The shattered human community will be resurrected. And together, we will find a new promised land and discover a new normal. Meanwhile, as we wander in this wilderness of chaos, let us celebrate Passover and Easter with their hardships and blessings. And may love guide us on our way.
Amen.
By Rev. Beth Miller
April 12, 2020
Lynn Unger in our Centering Words asks how much toilet paper will make us safe and suggests that we be multilayered and soft and strong. Good advice.
Fr. Hendrick in his lovely poem, Lockdown, acknowledges our fear and isolation. They are real, and they are significant. He also lifts up many blessing in the wake of this lockdown, especially the resurgence of nature and the kindness of neighbors, reminding us of the both/and nature of human life.
In my Contact column this week I shared the wisdom of the Dove Dark chocolate wrappers, one of which said: “after every storm there’s a rainbow no matter how long it takes to show up.”
My message this week is pretty simple. We’re in the midst of a crisis and it’s gonna go on for a while and will get worse before it gets better. But/and ... there are blessings along the way, if we take notice and embrace them. We will get there, whatever there actually means in this crazy time.
Millions of people around the world are in the middle of Passover commemorating the foundational story of 400 years of the Hebrew people’s enslavement in Egypt, the plagues God sent to convince Pharaoh to free them, their dramatic escape as Moses led them into the wilderness where they wandered for 40 years on their journey to reach the promised land. Jews retold the story in ritual at (mostly virtual) Seder dinners on Wednesday evening.
On this day, all over the world, people are celebrating Easter, the central event of the Christian religion and the most holy day of the Christian year. It’s the story of Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem with people lining the streets in his honor. But then he was betrayed, tried and convicted of bogus crimes, crucified, buried in a cave, and apparently rose on the third day and made several appearances before ascending into heaven.
Whether we identify theologically with Christians or Jews or neither, these stories are part of our roots as Unitarian Universalists. Jesus was a Jew and his intention was not to start a new religion, but to reform the Judaism he believed had become corrupt. But after his death, his followers and their followers established Christianity, a new religion in his name.
Over the next 2000 years, Christianity grew, changed, became corrupt, went through numerous reformations and splits, and today the denominations are so varied that there’s no real consensus about Christian doctrine.
Both Unitarianism and Universalism were Christian churches that tried to reform their denominations. That didn’t work, so they each split off, created new denominations, and eventually joined together to become Unitarian Universalism.
Unitarian Universalism went on to incorporate teachings from other world religions and from secular philosophy, science and humanism, and to become the “big tent” religion it is today that welcomes many beliefs.
Passover and Easter sound like such fanciful stories to our modern, scientific minds. But for all the doubt and denial of the mythical aspects, these foundational stories of our religious ancestors speak to larger, universal truths beyond the facts. Like the stories of all religions and enduring myths, they help us to recognize and understand the human condition. They tell us how others, it days of yore, endured the hardships and embraced the blessings of being human. They speak of truths that are beyond our ability to comprehend and explain directly.
For example, science tells us what happens to us physically when we fall in love: our heart beats faster, our hormone production increases, our minds get fixed on the object of our affection, and our judgement might be compromised. Those are facts, but they don’t begin to tell us what love is. Philosophers, poets, fiction and song writers have produced tomes trying to define it, but we still can’t say precisely what love is except with fanciful metaphors. But, we know that love exists. We’ve experienced it.
Likewise, these these foundational stories told by our religious ancestors are stories of courage and faith in the midst of horrible conditions of fear and grief. And they’re stories of resilience, renewal, and resurrection following periods of crisis and of challenges that humankind has faced since the beginning of time and will continue to endure. They point to the fear, anger, sadness, despair and grief that are part of the human condition.
And they tell us that even with all that they suffered and all that was lost along the way, the people came through. For the Jews, it was the promised land. For Christians, it was resurrection.
These are the deeper truths of our common human experiences. It’s a hard world we live in and it always has been. But it is also a beautiful world full of blessings.
We as the wealthy, privileged nation that we are, have been spared much of the hardship many people in many lands go through. And most of us in this congregation have been spared most of the worst hardships that many of our neighbors right here go through. But here we are now in an international pandemic, the worst of which will spare many individuals, but which affects us all.
Now, at this point, I would love to skip right on to the positive part of today’s sermon, but I have to be honest with you. We’re in a very hard place and it’s likely to get worse before it gets better. We have to tell ourselves the truth about that. We have to name our fear and our grief.
If I just told you that everything’s okay and we’re going to be fine, you would know intuitively that I wasn’t being authentic with you. I have to tell you my truth. I’m fearful. I’m grieving the past that we’ve lost. And I’m uncertain about the future that is far from coming into view yet. And I think many of you have similar feelings.
And that said, I’m mostly about the bright side. I always go to the positive possibilities first and deal with the negative if it happens. I pretty much follow that old axiom attributed to Mohammad: trust God, but tie your camel. But, my friends, this is too big and too scary not to name and acknowledge.
Once we get it on the table, though; once we’ve identified this enormous elephant in the room, we can more fully appreciate and embrace the many promises and resurrections that appear as we await and participate in creating whatever the new normal will be on the other side of this crisis.
In their 2018 book, Stephanie Marston, international strategy and leadership expert, and Ama Marston a stress and work-life expert psychologist, write about turning setbacks into advantages. I confess, I didn’t read the book. But I read a good summary of it by Kristin Wong in The NY Times.
Stephanie and Ama Marston lay out six stages of transformational change starting with normal which is our comfort zone where things are relatively okay in our lives. That’s where we were in February. Yes, there was political intrigue, our racial and cultural issues, and worries about climate change. But we were used to them and doing what we could to address them. It was frustrating, but ok.
And then, stage two comes along and we experience a significant disruption. There’s an outbreak of a new, highly contagious virus in China that spreads throughout the world, arriving in Florida in March. This tsunami of a pandemic is our major disruption. This throws us into their third stages: chaos, where we are now in April.
In stages four, five and six a catalyst emerges, we move towards something new, and finally become comfortable with our new normal. We’re still in stage three of this model of change, so let’s go back there, back to chaos where we are struggling to make sense of our shattered reality.
In chaos, we may start out in denial, telling ourselves that it isn’t so bad and will probably be over soon. This can be comforting and helpful — for awhile. But the truth always catches up with us.
So here we are in the chaos stage and we’re hit with the truth that this is really big and is likely to get worse and go on longer than we had hoped. How do we cope? What can we do to help ourselves and our loved ones and each other here in our faith community?
I don’t know for sure because I’ve not lived through a major pandemic and they don’t teach you this stuff in seminary. We’re creating the path as we walk it, 6 feet apart, and it’s an emotional and a spiritual path. I believe we need to do two things: deal honestly with our feelings about this tragedy and practice gratitude for the gifts that come along with it. And we can walk both sides of this path at the same time.
Dealing with our fear, anger and grief doesn’t take those feelings away, but it does deflate them. Scott Betinato in a recent Harvard Review Article said: “There is something powerful about naming this as grief. It helps us feel what’s inside of us. So many have told me in the past week, “I’m telling my coworkers I’m having a hard time,” or “I cried last night.” When you name it, you feel it and it moves through you. Emotions need motion. It’s important we acknowledge what we go through.”
Another recent article said that grief is about “turning inward to recalibrate so that we can adapt”.
We’ve lost many things we take for granted. I encourage you to acknowledge and process these feelings in whatever ways are helpful to you. Journal if that helps. Talk with family and friends if you can. And I invite you to let the church support you.
On the other side of this path we walk are gifts and blessings that this crisis is bringing forth every day. Walking this side means noticing them and practicing gratitude.
Fr. Hendrick, named many in the poem we heard earlier:
Hearing birds again
Clearer skies
People singing to each other through open windows
Neighbors helping neighbors..... And more.
He says breathe; open the windows of your soul; sing.
Many of you have told me about gifts this has brought into your lives:
- more frequent conversations with family and friends, some on Zoom or FaceTime so you can see each other;
- Time for hobbies and reading more books
- Long deferred projects completed
- Kindnesses extended among neighbors and friends
- And just slowing down and getting in touch with yourself
The church isn’t the buildings or the ministers, staff and lay leaders; it’s all of us together. We are the church. You are the church. And we, the church, are here to share the load and help one another. I believe Connection is the greatest gift we can offer one another at this time. We talk of social isolation, but instead, let’s be physically isolated and socially connected.
I know we’re doing a lot to stay connected through recorded Sunday services, numerous Zoom groups, phone calls made and help extended, emails and texts sent. And one of the things I love about this church is how members reach out and connect informally with one another. Let’s continue to create both sides of this path we’re walking together.
If you have something to offer or suggest, please contact us. If you need help getting connected, especially if you’re new or haven’t been around for awhile, please reach out. Budd’s and my contact information is right here on the website. We have Pastoral Associates and Caring Committee members available to be phone or email buddies. We, together, are the church and the church is here for all of us.
The stories of Passover and Easter are about courage and endurance and faith in the midst of chaos, fear and grief. They are stories of resilience, reminding us that we are here because of the strength and resilience of many generations before us.
For Jews, there was a promised land and the assurance that eventually, there will always be deliverance.
For Christians, there was crucifixion and resurrection and the assurance that human life rises from destruction and despair again and again.
We, too, will endure, my dear friends. The shattered human community will be resurrected. And together, we will find a new promised land and discover a new normal. Meanwhile, as we wander in this wilderness of chaos, let us celebrate Passover and Easter with their hardships and blessings. And may love guide us on our way.
Amen.
Revised Roy Ingham Memorial Service
Click here to see the video.
Part one of Mary Lou Keller's eulogy and Mindy Simmons' "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" were inadvertently left off of the earlier version. They can be viewed at 7:36 and 1:02:43, respectively.
For optimum viewing, look for the "Full Screen" icon in the bottom right corner of the video.
To see Carrie Seidman's column in the Herald-Tribune's September 22 issue, which featured Roy, click here...
Click here to see the video.
Part one of Mary Lou Keller's eulogy and Mindy Simmons' "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" were inadvertently left off of the earlier version. They can be viewed at 7:36 and 1:02:43, respectively.
For optimum viewing, look for the "Full Screen" icon in the bottom right corner of the video.
To see Carrie Seidman's column in the Herald-Tribune's September 22 issue, which featured Roy, click here...
 Earthrise, as seen from the lunar orbiter
April 5 service:
Covid-19 and The Sacred Hoop Video Sermon by Budd Friend-Jones Worldwide yet deeply personal, the devastation wrought by Coronavirus is historic. The sum of our losses is unimaginable. In this online worship we will look to science and the world's faith traditions to get a perspective on what is happening to us. This moment asks us to make a significant "course correction" in our spiritual orientation. Covid 19 comes as both Destroyer and Teacher. If we are attentive, we will gain insight into who we really are and how we may thrive. (To view the video, click on the image below.) |
Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
|
Gilbert (Budd) Friend-Jones, our Associate Minister, is President Elect of the North American Interfaith Network. He earned a doctorate at Howard University Divinity School and a M. Div. at Princeton Theological Seminary. He is the author of Faith in a Minor Key and When Easter Interrupts.
April 5 Service video (click on the picture to play):
Covid 19 and the Sacred Hoop
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
April 5, 2020
We are entering a difficult, perhaps unimaginable, time. A pandemic holds us in throe, and none of us will escape untouched. Many of us already are experiencing significant sacrifices and losses. Whether they are personal, familial or financial, they are real.
The daily posted numbers of those who have contracted the virus, and those who have died, are staggering, but the sum of global suffering cannot be captured by numbers. If we haven’t already felt its inflictions, we almost certainly shall – either in our person, or in our families, or within our extended networks of friends, colleagues and acquaintances.
Nor can we run from it, hide, or escape. Paraphrasing the Psalmist, we might even say, where can we flee from its presence? If we ascend to heaven, it is there; if we make our bed in Sheol, it is there. If we take the wings of the morning and travel to the farthest limits of the sea, even there it will find us.
There is no escape from a pandemic.
“Pandemic” is an apt description. The word derives from the Greek “pan-demos” - “all the people.” It matters little to the virus whether we are rich or poor, young or old, straight, trans or gay. A pandemic is no respecter of persons. All are vulnerable.
We like to think that we are self-sufficient, but we are not. We like to think that we can build walls to protect our way of life, but we cannot. We like to think that we are responsible only for ourselves and that which is ours, but the opposite is true. No state or country is, or can be, independent of any other.
This truth is fundamental. It extends far beyond the human family. It includes the interdependent web of life on this bright and lovely planet floating in the eternal cold.
It is embedded in the seventh principle of Unitarian Universalism: “Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”
In 1968 the United States and the Soviet Union were engaged in a space race. In December of that tumultuous year, we sent a spacecraft, Apollo 8, to the moon. On board were three astronauts. They would become the first human beings to see the dark side of our lovely, lonely companion.
On Christmas Eve, as they orbited what Shakespeare called the “lesser light”, they looked back to home, to Earth, nearly 239,000 behind them. What they saw surprised even them, and it was transforming. Astronaut Bill Anders yelled for a camera. When he got it, he quickly pointed it toward the Earth and began taking pictures. What did he see? He saw what al the world now knows as “Earthrise”.
Later he said, “Our Earth was colorful, pretty, and delicate compared to the rough, rugged, beat-up, even boring lunar surface… Here we’d come 240,000 miles to see the moon, and it was the Earth that was really worth looking at.”
Frank Borman, the mission’s commander, spoke of “the torrent of nostalgia, of sheer homesickness” that he felt surge through him when he saw the Earth against the utter darkness of space.
The poet, Archibald MacLeish, put it this way in the New York Times:
"To see Earth as it truly is, small and blue and beautiful in that eternal silence as it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the Earth together, brothers and sisters on that bright loveliness in that eternal cold."
Do you think it odd that this heavenly image comes to my mind as I contemplate the insidious spread of the novel Coronavirus? Perhaps it is. But both realities communicate to me -- one through beauty and one through horror -- that we are one human family on one lovely planet, Earth.
They both confirm the truth articulated so beautifully by Dr. King, that humanity is a large and scattered family who has inherited a single house, and now must learn to live in it together.
In Wuhan, after so many years, you can hear birds singing. The sky is no longer dark with fumes. It is blue and grey and clear. In the streets of Assisi people sing with each other across empty squares. They keep windows open so that those who are alone will hear the sounds of family and friends all around them. Gina Mayer observed on Facebook that the canals of Venice have become crystal clear. Dolphins are swimming near the Italian coast again. Deer are roaming the streets of Japan now and, in Thailand, the same with monkeys. China is experiencing a record-breaking reduction in pollution. The Earth, says Ms. Mayer, is beginning to show signs of amazing recovery in the absence of human pollution.
This, she believes, is an opportunity to restart society on a greener, more environmentally sensitive basis.
New York Governor Andrew Cuomo also gets it right. Covid 19, he says, is going to be transformative -- on a personal basis, a social basis, and a systemic basis.
And he asks: When this is over, how will our experience of Covid 19 have changed us? What can we learn from this? How can we grow from this? While certainly we are going to face more pain, deprivation and sacrifice in the weeks ahead, how will we come out on the other side? Will we be bitter, fearful and angry? Or wiser, stronger, and more resilient?
Years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked what she considered the first sign of civilization. Her students expected her to talk about fishhooks, clay pots or grinding stones.
But Mead said that the first sign of civilization in the ancient world was a femur that had been broken, then healed.
In the animal kingdom, she explained, if you break your leg, you die. You can’t run from danger. You can’t get to the river for a drink. You can’t hunt for food. You are meat for other prowling beasts. Animals don’t survive long enough for a broken leg to heal.
A broken femur that has healed is proof that someone took time to stay with the person who fell, to bind up their wound, carry the person to safety and tend to them through recovery.
‘Helping someone through difficulty is where civilization begins,” she said.
There is an old Hasidic story about a rabbi and her students. As they walked along one day, the rabbi asked, "How can we know the hour of dawn — the time when night ends and day begins?"
No one ventured an answer. They continued to walk.
"Is it when you can look from some distance and distinguish between a wolf and a sheep?" asked a student?
"No," the rabbi said. They continued to walk.
"Is it when there is enough light to tell the difference between a grapevine and a thorn bush?" said another.
"No," said the rabbi.
There was a long silence.
"Please tell us the answer to your question. How is it possible to know the precise time when the dawn has broken?"
"The dawn comes for each of us," said the rabbi, "when we look into the face of another human being - even a stranger – and recognize that she is our sister, or he is our brother. Until then, it is night. Until then, night is still within us."
I want to conclude with the story of a dream. The dream was given to a nine-year-old Oglala Indian boy. It was a vision the he remembered down his long life. His name was Heȟáka Sápa, known to us as Black Elk. He is one of the most highly regarded visionaries of First Nations peoples in the Americas. Here was his vision:
“I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. While I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.”
This was his dream. May it be ours.
One hoop. One planet. One home.
May it be so.
Sermon by Rev. Budd Friend-Jones
April 5, 2020
We are entering a difficult, perhaps unimaginable, time. A pandemic holds us in throe, and none of us will escape untouched. Many of us already are experiencing significant sacrifices and losses. Whether they are personal, familial or financial, they are real.
The daily posted numbers of those who have contracted the virus, and those who have died, are staggering, but the sum of global suffering cannot be captured by numbers. If we haven’t already felt its inflictions, we almost certainly shall – either in our person, or in our families, or within our extended networks of friends, colleagues and acquaintances.
Nor can we run from it, hide, or escape. Paraphrasing the Psalmist, we might even say, where can we flee from its presence? If we ascend to heaven, it is there; if we make our bed in Sheol, it is there. If we take the wings of the morning and travel to the farthest limits of the sea, even there it will find us.
There is no escape from a pandemic.
“Pandemic” is an apt description. The word derives from the Greek “pan-demos” - “all the people.” It matters little to the virus whether we are rich or poor, young or old, straight, trans or gay. A pandemic is no respecter of persons. All are vulnerable.
We like to think that we are self-sufficient, but we are not. We like to think that we can build walls to protect our way of life, but we cannot. We like to think that we are responsible only for ourselves and that which is ours, but the opposite is true. No state or country is, or can be, independent of any other.
This truth is fundamental. It extends far beyond the human family. It includes the interdependent web of life on this bright and lovely planet floating in the eternal cold.
It is embedded in the seventh principle of Unitarian Universalism: “Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”
In 1968 the United States and the Soviet Union were engaged in a space race. In December of that tumultuous year, we sent a spacecraft, Apollo 8, to the moon. On board were three astronauts. They would become the first human beings to see the dark side of our lovely, lonely companion.
On Christmas Eve, as they orbited what Shakespeare called the “lesser light”, they looked back to home, to Earth, nearly 239,000 behind them. What they saw surprised even them, and it was transforming. Astronaut Bill Anders yelled for a camera. When he got it, he quickly pointed it toward the Earth and began taking pictures. What did he see? He saw what al the world now knows as “Earthrise”.
Later he said, “Our Earth was colorful, pretty, and delicate compared to the rough, rugged, beat-up, even boring lunar surface… Here we’d come 240,000 miles to see the moon, and it was the Earth that was really worth looking at.”
Frank Borman, the mission’s commander, spoke of “the torrent of nostalgia, of sheer homesickness” that he felt surge through him when he saw the Earth against the utter darkness of space.
The poet, Archibald MacLeish, put it this way in the New York Times:
"To see Earth as it truly is, small and blue and beautiful in that eternal silence as it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the Earth together, brothers and sisters on that bright loveliness in that eternal cold."
Do you think it odd that this heavenly image comes to my mind as I contemplate the insidious spread of the novel Coronavirus? Perhaps it is. But both realities communicate to me -- one through beauty and one through horror -- that we are one human family on one lovely planet, Earth.
They both confirm the truth articulated so beautifully by Dr. King, that humanity is a large and scattered family who has inherited a single house, and now must learn to live in it together.
In Wuhan, after so many years, you can hear birds singing. The sky is no longer dark with fumes. It is blue and grey and clear. In the streets of Assisi people sing with each other across empty squares. They keep windows open so that those who are alone will hear the sounds of family and friends all around them. Gina Mayer observed on Facebook that the canals of Venice have become crystal clear. Dolphins are swimming near the Italian coast again. Deer are roaming the streets of Japan now and, in Thailand, the same with monkeys. China is experiencing a record-breaking reduction in pollution. The Earth, says Ms. Mayer, is beginning to show signs of amazing recovery in the absence of human pollution.
This, she believes, is an opportunity to restart society on a greener, more environmentally sensitive basis.
New York Governor Andrew Cuomo also gets it right. Covid 19, he says, is going to be transformative -- on a personal basis, a social basis, and a systemic basis.
And he asks: When this is over, how will our experience of Covid 19 have changed us? What can we learn from this? How can we grow from this? While certainly we are going to face more pain, deprivation and sacrifice in the weeks ahead, how will we come out on the other side? Will we be bitter, fearful and angry? Or wiser, stronger, and more resilient?
Years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked what she considered the first sign of civilization. Her students expected her to talk about fishhooks, clay pots or grinding stones.
But Mead said that the first sign of civilization in the ancient world was a femur that had been broken, then healed.
In the animal kingdom, she explained, if you break your leg, you die. You can’t run from danger. You can’t get to the river for a drink. You can’t hunt for food. You are meat for other prowling beasts. Animals don’t survive long enough for a broken leg to heal.
A broken femur that has healed is proof that someone took time to stay with the person who fell, to bind up their wound, carry the person to safety and tend to them through recovery.
‘Helping someone through difficulty is where civilization begins,” she said.
There is an old Hasidic story about a rabbi and her students. As they walked along one day, the rabbi asked, "How can we know the hour of dawn — the time when night ends and day begins?"
No one ventured an answer. They continued to walk.
"Is it when you can look from some distance and distinguish between a wolf and a sheep?" asked a student?
"No," the rabbi said. They continued to walk.
"Is it when there is enough light to tell the difference between a grapevine and a thorn bush?" said another.
"No," said the rabbi.
There was a long silence.
"Please tell us the answer to your question. How is it possible to know the precise time when the dawn has broken?"
"The dawn comes for each of us," said the rabbi, "when we look into the face of another human being - even a stranger – and recognize that she is our sister, or he is our brother. Until then, it is night. Until then, night is still within us."
I want to conclude with the story of a dream. The dream was given to a nine-year-old Oglala Indian boy. It was a vision the he remembered down his long life. His name was Heȟáka Sápa, known to us as Black Elk. He is one of the most highly regarded visionaries of First Nations peoples in the Americas. Here was his vision:
“I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. While I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.”
This was his dream. May it be ours.
One hoop. One planet. One home.
May it be so.
When Everything Nailed Down
is Coming Loose
Video Sermon by Roger Fritts
March 29, 2020
Roger's last sermon before his April 1 retirement.
(Click on the picture below.)
The transcript comes after the message from Beth and Budd
is Coming Loose
Video Sermon by Roger Fritts
March 29, 2020
Roger's last sermon before his April 1 retirement.
(Click on the picture below.)
The transcript comes after the message from Beth and Budd
March 29 Service video (click on the picture to play):
Beth and Budd say hello after Roger's sermon:
When Everything Nailed Down Is Coming Loose
by Roger Fritts
March 29, 2020, Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
I had a plan.
Over a year ago, I announced my retirement effective April 1. I encouraged the board to hire Rev. Beth Miller and Rev Budd Friend-Jones to start last September. They are helping with the transition from my departure to an interim minister and eventually a settled minister. Over the summer Leslie and I reviewed our retirement budget. I planned sermons for August through the end of March. I got bids from moving companies, to move a few things to Maryland after April 1. I looked into selling my car. I decided to give away most of my books in the church courtyard March 15. I told the Board that I would be happy with a modest retirement party at the church after the March 29 worship service. I planned a closing ritual for the service with each of the Board Presidents I had worked with saying a few words.
All these plans changed March 13, the day when most of us decided to take the coronavirus seriously and shut things down. Everything I thought was nailed down has come loose. I went to Maryland that day for a quick weekend visit (Beth was going to lead the service). I was going to fly back on March 17, but my wife talked me out of it. “You don’t want to be on an airplane right now. You can do zoom, send emails and talk on the phone just as well in isolation here, as you can in isolation in Sarasota. Imagine if one of us gets sick. We do not want to be a thousand miles away from each other.”
Today, March 29, here I am talking to you on a video recording instead of in our church worship space. If all goes well, this will not be my last sermon. Sometime in the future, I will come back to Sarasota for a Sunday service and we will have that retirement party that we had originally planned for today.
I suspect that all of you are having the same experience of changing plans. Most of the time when we have a big sudden change in plans it only impacts us and a few other people. If the business we work for closes, or if we are in a car accident and we have a broken leg, or our home burns down, we are forced to make major changes in our plans. Still, the people around us are unaffected. They go on about their normal business. This time however, everyone is affected, everyone is changing plans, not just the people in Sarasota, not just people in the United States, but everyone in the world.
I imagine that many of you planned to travel on vacation trips to places like London and Amsterdam, now canceled. Perhaps you were looking forward to attending a young person’s graduation from high school or college and that is cancelled. Perhaps you were planning to attend a family reunion or a birthday celebration, or a wedding, all called off. Even more serious, perhaps you or someone you love has lost their job.
Because I have been part of your community for nine years as your minister, I care about all of you and I think about you, changing your plans, isolating in your homes, waiting this out, not knowing when it will end and thinking about your basic survival needs such as food and medical care. The whole system that we rely on is changing, at least temporarily, and we all feel some anxiety.
I have been to the homes of many of you and in my imagination, I see you in your home reading a book or listening to the radio, patiently waiting for this to end. I know many of you have dogs and I imagine you taking your dog for a walk, smelling the fresh air, feeling it against your skin, looking at the blue sky and the green trees, saying hello to those whom you meet on your walk, engaging in conversation but at an appropriate distance. On the other hand, I know many of you have cats, and I imagine you at home as you talk to the cat, and the cat looking back with its own mysterious thoughts.
One of the many advice givers on tv suggested that we all call at least one person every day. You can make a list. For example, Monday call daughter, Tuesday son, Wednesday sister, Thursday brother, Friday stepmother, Saturday cousin, Sunday a close friend and Monday start again. It is a way to create a structure to break through isolation. What to talk about? Just ask “how are things going?” If appropriate, describe your own activities.
Here in Maryland, I look for things to do with my partner, the Rev. Leslie Westbrook. I suggested that we had been accumulating coins, and we could put them in paper wrappers to take to the bank. This did not impress Leslie. Instead, she suggested that we take a walk to a nearby park, which we did. When we started walking, I was aware of the sounds of birds. Doves have built a nest in a tree near our front door at our Maryland house and when I go outside the Doves remind me not to come too close. I see Robins in our yard looking for worms and I marvel at how beautiful they are with their red breasts. In the street in front of our house the neighboring kids have set up a basketball net and are shooting hoops. Few cars are driving on the street these days.
The cherry blossoms peaked in Washington around March 20, and there were blossoming trees in yards of homes all around me as we walked to a nearby park. Keeping our distance, we said hi to the history teacher, home because the schools are closed. He and his family live across the street. Because he teaches history, standing six feet away, I launch into my Spanish flu story.
In 1918 my grandfather, Thomas Richard Fritts, was a supervisor of coal miners, and owned one of the first cars in Williamsburg, Kentucky. He volunteered to go to France and because he could drive, he was to serve as an ambulance driver in the war. In September 1918, the army trained him in a tent camp on the grounds of the University of Kentucky. His wife, Nelly came for a visit and a child (my Father) was conceived in an army tent on the University of Kentucky grounds. Thomas went to France on a troop ship, but the war ended Nov 11, soon after he arrived, and the army sent him home. Back in Kentucky he resumed his job as a coal miner. In February 1919 he contracted the Spanish flu in the third wave of the epidemic. After nearly recovering, he went to visit a friend who had gotten a woman pregnant, to encourage the man to marry the woman. When he returned home, he had a relapse and died on Feb 9, 1919 at the age of twenty-seven.
The flu killed an estimated 675,000 people in the United States. Around the world an estimated twenty million to fifty million persons died.
My father was born on June 4, 1919 and never knew his father. His mother and her sisters raised my dad as an only child. Of course, if my grandfather had survived the Spanish flu, and been a parent to my dad, it is unlikely that my father would have decided to be a conscientious objector during the Second World War. He would not have done alternative service. He would not have met and married my pacifist Mennonite mother and I never would never have been born. So, I owe my existence to the Spanish Flu of 1918-1919. In the same way this virus will affect individuals and families long into the future in ways that we cannot know.
After talking with my neighbor, Leslie and I continued our walk, enjoying the beauty of the moment, taking life one hour at a time. One of my favorite passages is about walking. For those of you in wheelchairs please replace walking with wheeling. The Vietnamese Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh has written:
“I like to walk alone on country paths, rice plants and wild grasses on both sides, putting each foot down on the earth in mindfulness, knowing that I walk on the wondrous earth. In such moments, existence is a miraculous and mysterious reality. People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on the earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is miracle.”
Until we are together again, please do all you can to take care of yourselves. Live hour by hour enjoying the miracle of life and know that although we must keep physical distance in my imagination, I am hugging each of you.
Closing:
May the flame which has brightened our time together
Warm our hearts, light our paths, inspire our vision
and give comfort to each of us in the coming days.
by Roger Fritts
March 29, 2020, Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
I had a plan.
Over a year ago, I announced my retirement effective April 1. I encouraged the board to hire Rev. Beth Miller and Rev Budd Friend-Jones to start last September. They are helping with the transition from my departure to an interim minister and eventually a settled minister. Over the summer Leslie and I reviewed our retirement budget. I planned sermons for August through the end of March. I got bids from moving companies, to move a few things to Maryland after April 1. I looked into selling my car. I decided to give away most of my books in the church courtyard March 15. I told the Board that I would be happy with a modest retirement party at the church after the March 29 worship service. I planned a closing ritual for the service with each of the Board Presidents I had worked with saying a few words.
All these plans changed March 13, the day when most of us decided to take the coronavirus seriously and shut things down. Everything I thought was nailed down has come loose. I went to Maryland that day for a quick weekend visit (Beth was going to lead the service). I was going to fly back on March 17, but my wife talked me out of it. “You don’t want to be on an airplane right now. You can do zoom, send emails and talk on the phone just as well in isolation here, as you can in isolation in Sarasota. Imagine if one of us gets sick. We do not want to be a thousand miles away from each other.”
Today, March 29, here I am talking to you on a video recording instead of in our church worship space. If all goes well, this will not be my last sermon. Sometime in the future, I will come back to Sarasota for a Sunday service and we will have that retirement party that we had originally planned for today.
I suspect that all of you are having the same experience of changing plans. Most of the time when we have a big sudden change in plans it only impacts us and a few other people. If the business we work for closes, or if we are in a car accident and we have a broken leg, or our home burns down, we are forced to make major changes in our plans. Still, the people around us are unaffected. They go on about their normal business. This time however, everyone is affected, everyone is changing plans, not just the people in Sarasota, not just people in the United States, but everyone in the world.
I imagine that many of you planned to travel on vacation trips to places like London and Amsterdam, now canceled. Perhaps you were looking forward to attending a young person’s graduation from high school or college and that is cancelled. Perhaps you were planning to attend a family reunion or a birthday celebration, or a wedding, all called off. Even more serious, perhaps you or someone you love has lost their job.
Because I have been part of your community for nine years as your minister, I care about all of you and I think about you, changing your plans, isolating in your homes, waiting this out, not knowing when it will end and thinking about your basic survival needs such as food and medical care. The whole system that we rely on is changing, at least temporarily, and we all feel some anxiety.
I have been to the homes of many of you and in my imagination, I see you in your home reading a book or listening to the radio, patiently waiting for this to end. I know many of you have dogs and I imagine you taking your dog for a walk, smelling the fresh air, feeling it against your skin, looking at the blue sky and the green trees, saying hello to those whom you meet on your walk, engaging in conversation but at an appropriate distance. On the other hand, I know many of you have cats, and I imagine you at home as you talk to the cat, and the cat looking back with its own mysterious thoughts.
One of the many advice givers on tv suggested that we all call at least one person every day. You can make a list. For example, Monday call daughter, Tuesday son, Wednesday sister, Thursday brother, Friday stepmother, Saturday cousin, Sunday a close friend and Monday start again. It is a way to create a structure to break through isolation. What to talk about? Just ask “how are things going?” If appropriate, describe your own activities.
Here in Maryland, I look for things to do with my partner, the Rev. Leslie Westbrook. I suggested that we had been accumulating coins, and we could put them in paper wrappers to take to the bank. This did not impress Leslie. Instead, she suggested that we take a walk to a nearby park, which we did. When we started walking, I was aware of the sounds of birds. Doves have built a nest in a tree near our front door at our Maryland house and when I go outside the Doves remind me not to come too close. I see Robins in our yard looking for worms and I marvel at how beautiful they are with their red breasts. In the street in front of our house the neighboring kids have set up a basketball net and are shooting hoops. Few cars are driving on the street these days.
The cherry blossoms peaked in Washington around March 20, and there were blossoming trees in yards of homes all around me as we walked to a nearby park. Keeping our distance, we said hi to the history teacher, home because the schools are closed. He and his family live across the street. Because he teaches history, standing six feet away, I launch into my Spanish flu story.
In 1918 my grandfather, Thomas Richard Fritts, was a supervisor of coal miners, and owned one of the first cars in Williamsburg, Kentucky. He volunteered to go to France and because he could drive, he was to serve as an ambulance driver in the war. In September 1918, the army trained him in a tent camp on the grounds of the University of Kentucky. His wife, Nelly came for a visit and a child (my Father) was conceived in an army tent on the University of Kentucky grounds. Thomas went to France on a troop ship, but the war ended Nov 11, soon after he arrived, and the army sent him home. Back in Kentucky he resumed his job as a coal miner. In February 1919 he contracted the Spanish flu in the third wave of the epidemic. After nearly recovering, he went to visit a friend who had gotten a woman pregnant, to encourage the man to marry the woman. When he returned home, he had a relapse and died on Feb 9, 1919 at the age of twenty-seven.
The flu killed an estimated 675,000 people in the United States. Around the world an estimated twenty million to fifty million persons died.
My father was born on June 4, 1919 and never knew his father. His mother and her sisters raised my dad as an only child. Of course, if my grandfather had survived the Spanish flu, and been a parent to my dad, it is unlikely that my father would have decided to be a conscientious objector during the Second World War. He would not have done alternative service. He would not have met and married my pacifist Mennonite mother and I never would never have been born. So, I owe my existence to the Spanish Flu of 1918-1919. In the same way this virus will affect individuals and families long into the future in ways that we cannot know.
After talking with my neighbor, Leslie and I continued our walk, enjoying the beauty of the moment, taking life one hour at a time. One of my favorite passages is about walking. For those of you in wheelchairs please replace walking with wheeling. The Vietnamese Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh has written:
“I like to walk alone on country paths, rice plants and wild grasses on both sides, putting each foot down on the earth in mindfulness, knowing that I walk on the wondrous earth. In such moments, existence is a miraculous and mysterious reality. People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on the earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is miracle.”
Until we are together again, please do all you can to take care of yourselves. Live hour by hour enjoying the miracle of life and know that although we must keep physical distance in my imagination, I am hugging each of you.
Closing:
May the flame which has brightened our time together
Warm our hearts, light our paths, inspire our vision
and give comfort to each of us in the coming days.
Rev. Roger Fritts
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Sunday, March 22:
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March 22 Service video (click on the picture to play):
Why Do Bad Things Happen?
A Reflection on the Covid-19 Pandemic
March 22, 2020
by Roger Fritts
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
I am fascinated by stories in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune about how the virus is changing peoples’ lives.
One person wrote, “We snowbirds have altered many plans, activities, interactions during this intense period of worry and caution. My husband and I are Bostonians. Our April plans included flying to Salt Lake City to be with our family — canceled. We expected to return to Boston by mid-April. Now we plan to stay in our Longboat Key condo indefinitely. “Our life here on Longboat Key in retirement consisted of a happy round of lectures, classes, theater and concerts, and dinner dates in restaurants and homes. Everything’s been canceled!”
Another person wrote “My mom and I currently care for my elderly grandmother (82) and provide in-home care services for her. She cannot live alone and we never have wanted her to go into a nursing home. She is our best friend and constant source of laughter, but recently has been a constant source of panic. I wash my hands every two minutes, I wear gloves when I prepare her food, I Clorox all the door handles, light switches, her phone, her remote — even sometimes her reading glasses. It’s terrifying, every day, worrying if I or my mom will be the one who introduces the virus to her.”
Still another person wrote, “I first started feeling sick about a week ago. I got sent home from work and can not return for fourteen days. Now we have four out of six people in my home sick. I have no income and still have to pay my rent, but how do I do that? There’s no answer yet from anyone.”
As I watch the news I remember that In the past when the President was killed or the World Trade Center Towers fell, the next Sunday people filled the churches and temples, feeling a strong need to be together in their religious homes. People set aside their Sunday morning activities of sailing or golfing or reading the Sunday paper and came to church. On such occasions it is the role of the clergy to say something reassuring. Of course, in this situation we cannot gather together, but with the help of the world wide web we can be together.
One response I heard a Christian minister give is to say that the virus is a test from God. The minister says the proper response is for us to reaffirm our faith. The “God is testing you” answer to human suffering is common in many churches. It suggests that even in the middle of the most difficult suffering God is testing us to see if we remain faithful and positive. The greatest sin according to this theory is to give in to our feelings of doubt and despair. They say that we need not feel grief for those who died. Having completed their task here on earth they are now in heaven with God. Therefore, we should feel joy and not sadness at their deaths.
The “God is testing you” theory has never reassured me. It has never helped me accept a terrible loss. Indeed, if I really believed God is testing people with disease, I would feel deeply depressed. If God is testing people, then God is a cruel and sadistic being.
Other religious traditions have other perspectives. The virus has impacted many Asian countries where people identify as Buddhists. For example, over 40 percent of the people of Japan are Buddhists.
The founding of Buddhism is rooted in the attempt to understand human suffering. According to the story, about two thousand six hundred years ago a man named Siddhartha was born, the son of the wealthy, powerful ruler of a small kingdom in northern India. The boy’s father kept his son in isolation in the palace, allowing him to live a life of luxury.
According to the story, in his 29th year Siddhartha finally made his way out of the palace, where he was confronted by old age, illness, and death. He left behind his life of luxury and started to search for a solution to the problem of human suffering. He came to believe that human beings are trapped in a cycle of birth and death and reincarnation. Complete release from the cycle is attained by direct experience of Nirvana.
To us today a Buddhist might say that life is a painful journey. The very nature of human existence is inherently difficult. Our suffering is caused by our selfish cravings and our attachments. Craving and attachment can be overcome. When we completely transcend selfish craving, we enter a state of nirvana and suffering ceases. Nirvana literally means “blowing out” in the way a flame or candle is blown out. What is extinguished when we attain nirvana is our craving, our attachment.
As we grieve the loss of our happy round of lectures, classes, theater and concerts, and dinner dates of just a few weeks ago, a Buddhist might say to us that nothing is permanent. No form endures forever.
Personally, I am far from nirvana. I still have many cravings and attachments. Still this virus can remind us of how most of the stuff that fills our lives is not necessary for our happiness. We need food, clothing and shelter to survive and we sometimes need medical help. Still, I suspect that now, instead of being told that “God is testing us” we might all find it easier to accept the fragile nature of life if religious leaders reminded us that beyond the basic necessities, we can be happy without so many things to own or things to do.
Other religions have other beliefs. This week Iran issued its most dire warning about the outbreak of the new coronavirus ravaging the country, suggesting millions could die in the Islamic Republic if people kept ignoring health guidance. I wondered what the Islamic religious leaders in Iran said to the people as they struggled to understand the fragile nature of life. According to one news account a Tunisian cleric who lives in France, believes Allah is punishing the Chinese with the new coronavirus.
According to him, “The virus is a soldier in Allah’s army. The Chinese authorities imposed a siege on a million Uighur Muslims, and now, 50 million Chinese are besieged because of the virus, and they can’t find a cure for it because this is God’s will. Allah has soldiers, including angels and viruses and plagues, and if he wants to set them on the public, nothing in heaven or on earth can stop him.”
One Islamic religious leader wrote that if we study carefully the painful incidents of our life that occurred in some specific circumstances and judge them in the context of our behavior, we can realize that most of these painful events also marked the milestones of our progress, because suffering is a way that God teaches us. Mild punishments are to discipline us to save us from severe punishments. Those who are mindful take the advantage of such occurrence and change their behaviors, but those who are not watchful just cry and complain and finally meet even more severe consequences.
Personally, I do not agree that God is punishing us or trying to teach us a lesson with this virus.
In addition to Christian, Buddhist and Islamic peoples, Jewish people also debate the problem of human suffering. I like the book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. The Rabbi said, "Can you accept the idea that something happened for no reason, that there is randomness in the universe? Can you accept the idea that God is not all powerful? Can you accept the idea that God wants justice and fairness but cannot always arrange for them? Misfortune is as unacceptable to God as it is to us."
God is not all powerful and some things happen for no reason.
So there are several views about how we should react to the virus.
Some Christians say we should see the virus as a test from God.
Some Buddhists say we should use the virus as an opportunity to become more detached.
Some Islamic leaders says the virus is God’s way of trying to teach us a lesson.
Personally I agree with the Rabbi’s view. I believe that the virus is a random event that has happened for no reason. I find the word God is useful in describing what I experience as a unity that underlies existence. I suspect that this unity gives us a mission to learn more and more about the nature of life and the universe. And I suspect this unity is not all powerful. It cannot prevent the virus.
In a Unitarian Universalist Church each of you is free to make up your own mind. When I visit Unitarian Universalists in the hospital, I seldom debate theology. As long as your beliefs are not harming you or others, my role is to be supportive, not to make your beliefs like my own. You have the right to whatever belief system gives you strength and helps you get through the days and nights. At times of crisis my goal is to support you in your journey.
So do whatever you can do to stay healthy. And know that although we cannot meet in person, you are not being tested or punished. You are loved, just the way you are.
A Reflection on the Covid-19 Pandemic
March 22, 2020
by Roger Fritts
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota
I am fascinated by stories in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune about how the virus is changing peoples’ lives.
One person wrote, “We snowbirds have altered many plans, activities, interactions during this intense period of worry and caution. My husband and I are Bostonians. Our April plans included flying to Salt Lake City to be with our family — canceled. We expected to return to Boston by mid-April. Now we plan to stay in our Longboat Key condo indefinitely. “Our life here on Longboat Key in retirement consisted of a happy round of lectures, classes, theater and concerts, and dinner dates in restaurants and homes. Everything’s been canceled!”
Another person wrote “My mom and I currently care for my elderly grandmother (82) and provide in-home care services for her. She cannot live alone and we never have wanted her to go into a nursing home. She is our best friend and constant source of laughter, but recently has been a constant source of panic. I wash my hands every two minutes, I wear gloves when I prepare her food, I Clorox all the door handles, light switches, her phone, her remote — even sometimes her reading glasses. It’s terrifying, every day, worrying if I or my mom will be the one who introduces the virus to her.”
Still another person wrote, “I first started feeling sick about a week ago. I got sent home from work and can not return for fourteen days. Now we have four out of six people in my home sick. I have no income and still have to pay my rent, but how do I do that? There’s no answer yet from anyone.”
As I watch the news I remember that In the past when the President was killed or the World Trade Center Towers fell, the next Sunday people filled the churches and temples, feeling a strong need to be together in their religious homes. People set aside their Sunday morning activities of sailing or golfing or reading the Sunday paper and came to church. On such occasions it is the role of the clergy to say something reassuring. Of course, in this situation we cannot gather together, but with the help of the world wide web we can be together.
One response I heard a Christian minister give is to say that the virus is a test from God. The minister says the proper response is for us to reaffirm our faith. The “God is testing you” answer to human suffering is common in many churches. It suggests that even in the middle of the most difficult suffering God is testing us to see if we remain faithful and positive. The greatest sin according to this theory is to give in to our feelings of doubt and despair. They say that we need not feel grief for those who died. Having completed their task here on earth they are now in heaven with God. Therefore, we should feel joy and not sadness at their deaths.
The “God is testing you” theory has never reassured me. It has never helped me accept a terrible loss. Indeed, if I really believed God is testing people with disease, I would feel deeply depressed. If God is testing people, then God is a cruel and sadistic being.
Other religious traditions have other perspectives. The virus has impacted many Asian countries where people identify as Buddhists. For example, over 40 percent of the people of Japan are Buddhists.
The founding of Buddhism is rooted in the attempt to understand human suffering. According to the story, about two thousand six hundred years ago a man named Siddhartha was born, the son of the wealthy, powerful ruler of a small kingdom in northern India. The boy’s father kept his son in isolation in the palace, allowing him to live a life of luxury.
According to the story, in his 29th year Siddhartha finally made his way out of the palace, where he was confronted by old age, illness, and death. He left behind his life of luxury and started to search for a solution to the problem of human suffering. He came to believe that human beings are trapped in a cycle of birth and death and reincarnation. Complete release from the cycle is attained by direct experience of Nirvana.
To us today a Buddhist might say that life is a painful journey. The very nature of human existence is inherently difficult. Our suffering is caused by our selfish cravings and our attachments. Craving and attachment can be overcome. When we completely transcend selfish craving, we enter a state of nirvana and suffering ceases. Nirvana literally means “blowing out” in the way a flame or candle is blown out. What is extinguished when we attain nirvana is our craving, our attachment.
As we grieve the loss of our happy round of lectures, classes, theater and concerts, and dinner dates of just a few weeks ago, a Buddhist might say to us that nothing is permanent. No form endures forever.
Personally, I am far from nirvana. I still have many cravings and attachments. Still this virus can remind us of how most of the stuff that fills our lives is not necessary for our happiness. We need food, clothing and shelter to survive and we sometimes need medical help. Still, I suspect that now, instead of being told that “God is testing us” we might all find it easier to accept the fragile nature of life if religious leaders reminded us that beyond the basic necessities, we can be happy without so many things to own or things to do.
Other religions have other beliefs. This week Iran issued its most dire warning about the outbreak of the new coronavirus ravaging the country, suggesting millions could die in the Islamic Republic if people kept ignoring health guidance. I wondered what the Islamic religious leaders in Iran said to the people as they struggled to understand the fragile nature of life. According to one news account a Tunisian cleric who lives in France, believes Allah is punishing the Chinese with the new coronavirus.
According to him, “The virus is a soldier in Allah’s army. The Chinese authorities imposed a siege on a million Uighur Muslims, and now, 50 million Chinese are besieged because of the virus, and they can’t find a cure for it because this is God’s will. Allah has soldiers, including angels and viruses and plagues, and if he wants to set them on the public, nothing in heaven or on earth can stop him.”
One Islamic religious leader wrote that if we study carefully the painful incidents of our life that occurred in some specific circumstances and judge them in the context of our behavior, we can realize that most of these painful events also marked the milestones of our progress, because suffering is a way that God teaches us. Mild punishments are to discipline us to save us from severe punishments. Those who are mindful take the advantage of such occurrence and change their behaviors, but those who are not watchful just cry and complain and finally meet even more severe consequences.
Personally, I do not agree that God is punishing us or trying to teach us a lesson with this virus.
In addition to Christian, Buddhist and Islamic peoples, Jewish people also debate the problem of human suffering. I like the book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. The Rabbi said, "Can you accept the idea that something happened for no reason, that there is randomness in the universe? Can you accept the idea that God is not all powerful? Can you accept the idea that God wants justice and fairness but cannot always arrange for them? Misfortune is as unacceptable to God as it is to us."
God is not all powerful and some things happen for no reason.
So there are several views about how we should react to the virus.
Some Christians say we should see the virus as a test from God.
Some Buddhists say we should use the virus as an opportunity to become more detached.
Some Islamic leaders says the virus is God’s way of trying to teach us a lesson.
Personally I agree with the Rabbi’s view. I believe that the virus is a random event that has happened for no reason. I find the word God is useful in describing what I experience as a unity that underlies existence. I suspect that this unity gives us a mission to learn more and more about the nature of life and the universe. And I suspect this unity is not all powerful. It cannot prevent the virus.
In a Unitarian Universalist Church each of you is free to make up your own mind. When I visit Unitarian Universalists in the hospital, I seldom debate theology. As long as your beliefs are not harming you or others, my role is to be supportive, not to make your beliefs like my own. You have the right to whatever belief system gives you strength and helps you get through the days and nights. At times of crisis my goal is to support you in your journey.
So do whatever you can do to stay healthy. And know that although we cannot meet in person, you are not being tested or punished. You are loved, just the way you are.