Thursday, May 30, 2013
Sermon: An Engine Composed of Generations
An
Engine Composed of Generations
Delivered on May 26, 2013 for First Unitarian Church
of Pittsburgh
Tomorrow
is memorial day -- again. When I was young, I was taught that this
was a time to remember those who had passed on before us – at the
time, I thought that meant great grandparents and ancestors previous
to them whom I'd never met. Frequently, while visiting my
grandparents in Western Wisconsin, we would drive to the cemetery
adjacent to the Rush
River Lutheran Church and visit the graves of some of those
ancestors I'd never met. Now my grandparents
are buried there as well.
Over time, I've come to realize memorial day began as a patriotic holiday, originally created in 1866 just after the Civil War. It is a time for remembering our soldiers who have died serving our nation in any of its many wars.
During
my internship at the First Unitarian Universalist Society of San
Francisco, the worship group decided to offer a litany of names and
ages of the US soldiers who had died in the last year as a result of
war. SO MANY of them were 18, 19, 20, 21 years old! These are just
past the age of what we call “bridging” (which our congregation
will celebrate next weekend). I don't want to imagine losing our
young people in such a way – in bloody conflict. If you have, or
know somebody who has, for this, we grieve, and deeply.
In our
own hymnal, there is a reading, The
Young Dead Soldiers, #583, which so harrowingly names this loss,
and the unknown meaning of the loss – waiting for us to complete
that meaning. “We were young,
they say. We have died.
Remember
us.”
They died
for their cause. But martyrdom is not the only way, and I reject the
idea that being an adult of any age makes one somehow ready to enjoin
in a war. If you know me, you know I stand for peace – from the
core of my being I pray every day for an end
to wars, and an end to needless deaths of soldiers and civilians
of all ages. So, whether you give your last breath for something, or
whether you dedicate decades of your breathing to something, each
represents a commitment to bending the universe's arc toward justice.
That arc doesn't bend on its own, and surely not automatically.
With every hummingbird
that steps up, and every elephant, every monkey, every human with
a voice, we tug at that arc together – our attention impelling it
toward that which we call justice.
As this congregation's
outgoing campus ministry coordinator and social action coordinator, I
desire for the elders in this congregation to work continually to
more deeply embrace and include the younger generations. So many of
the young among us (in our congregation and in society at large) are
older than those who have died for our country. If people of that
young age are ready for such a task, surely those of such an age
among us are fit for the task of full inclusion in our democracies.
If our culture needs to change to be inclusive in a multi-cultural
sense, with respect to diversity of ages, then that is the work
before us. Not because of duty to some ideal, or because of a quota
to meet. But because of our practice of unconditional loving
acceptance and recognition of the first-principle inherent worth and
dignity within each of us.
In an instrumental sense, I call for
this because it makes our community whole. Because with all
generations engaged, we will have an engine.
And I know off the bat it will be an imperfect engine, but it can
be
an engine that moves us forward, which on its own would speak
volumes. This engine would push from behind, and pull from the
front. My understanding is that the youngest among us (my 4 year-old
son Henry included) know
what they want. Henry knows what he wants so very clearly, in such a
way that he leans in full-force heart, body, and soul (and
occasionally, lungs) to try and satisfy that desire. My
conversations with him about id,
superego and ego, never venture very far past the Id. Superego
gets magically transformed into “Super-Eagle,”
and we have gone from the world of reflection and examination into an
entirely different world of imagination. It's wonderful. And it's
id. He knows his drives, but does not know the complex context that
his drives are rooted in, or the ramifications of carrying through on
those drives.
In a classical sense, the younger generations know
their drives. Meanwhile, the older generation knows the contexts in
their complexity, and would offer its wisdom based on history, while
the middle generation could work collaboratively with everyone to
create and execute a plan balancing the drives of the younger with
the cautions of the elder.
I don't believe that such a classical
model holds up entirely, because it's based on categorical
thinking. There are young people who have learned
history, and attend well to that learning. There are certainly older
people who are
in touch with their drives, and some whom wisdom has somehow eluded.
In other words, youth does not make one naïve or unlearned, and age
need not make one wise, or even experienced.
An excellent example
of a young adult who stepped up, perhaps one of our most famous
living UU's in fact, is Zach
Wahls, the Eagle Scout raised by two moms, who has not waited
until some later stage of development to engage with the world. As a
result of the work he has been a part of, this week we have the very
good news that the Boy Scouts of America have ended
their ban on openly gay scouts – a huge victory for gay youth!
This is “shoulder-to-the-wheel” kind of stuff, which I believe we
do well to encourage. Young people (within UU and beyond) tend to
have great energy for justice and a strong sense of justice, and
those in every generation can realize a win-win scenario through
multi-generational collaborative efforts.
However, as with many
religious groups, Unitarian Universalist churches have tended to lose
people while they're in their 20's, and I believe it diminishes our
drive somewhat, and consequently diminishes the strength of our
movement. This loss need not be the case. We can open this
congregation further to become more young-adult friendly, perhaps
even to the point of being young-adult centered. Or better, since
often a both/and
understanding is richer than an either/or understanding, we could
develop a multi-culture with a strong core of young adult culture.
I
have seen our congregation's younger population grow, even over the
last two years. And I want to be clear on one thing, lest I be
misunderstood. It would be a very big mistake for me to preach here
to the older generation only, and I do not want my words interpreted
as such. If I were preaching about how “we” need to be more
attractive to “them” these words would be marginalizing at the
same time as I'm trying to be inviting. Throughout, I have been
attempting to speak agnostic of generations, because my hope is to
speak to the larger “us.” This work of inclusion and balance –
this movement toward wholeness – requires all to feel welcome, and
all to be in discourse.
This
next minute or so I will
dedicate to the older generation, as I see a tendency which I believe
hinders our efforts at wholeness and inclusion. The perils
of coffee hour conversations! Some of you younger folks may have
experienced this. The issue of age-related social faux pas was
important enough for Carey MacDonald – along with the UUA office of
Young Adult Ministries – to create a flyer called “Coffee Hour
Caution” advising churchgoers on ways that they're lousing things
up in conversations, and some good ways to be warm and gracious
without inserting their feet in their mouth. I've printed up several
of these sheets to share if you're interested – some are here in
the sanctuary, and some will be downstairs. As one young adult
commented, “It [the flyer] might be a little tongue-in-cheek, but
it needs to be said.” Here are just a few things it recommends
avoiding – “How old are you?” “Have you met our other young
adult?” or “We need more young people!” Upon a little
reflection, it's clear to see how these can be experienced as
“othering” and would not be received as a hospitable welcome.
Lest we start walking on eggshells, there aren't magic words, other
than the words you would say to somebody you're initially meeting for
whom age is unimportant: “Can I introduce you to my friend?” or
“What did you think of the service?” The magic attitude for
anyone, regardless of age, is to: Introduce
yourself • Make friends • Be interested • Reach out • and
Respect boundaries.
Now,
to those who identify as part of the younger generation, and to those
newly joined, this wholeness won't work without you. Expect
inclusion, and be ready to speak up for what you want. The minute
you sign the membership book, or even the minute you start to
participate, your voice ought to have an equitable place in the
discourse of this community. It's not necessary to be steeped
in UU culture to have a sharable opinion. In some cases, you may
find it beneficial to learn our ways, and in other cases, it may very
well help for our ways to be instructed by your
ways. If I were not leaving in a month, I would do my best to make
sure we (the all-inclusive “we”) make room for you, wherever
you're coming from, however long you've been in this congregation, or
on this planet.
Now, opening to make space for all to feel
welcome is one thing, and knowing ourselves is another. Here's the
take-home multi-generational pastoral part. Where are you
in the arc of your life, and how do your feelings about it affect
your connections with others? How well do you connect with yourself
at other life stages, either in the past or the future? Sometimes,
even in myself and perhaps among some who've cycled around the sun a
few times more than me, I feel a bit of envy toward the younger
generation, for your energy that seems to recover more easily from
exhaustion, and that hasn't gone stale. And occasionally there is
envy for the youthful insights unhindered by experiences which too
often serve to narrow our perspectives. And to the older generation,
those younger among us may feel envy, toward you for being settled
financially or socially, and knowing who you are. For
accomplishments that have succeeded, and for your attempted
accomplishments that instead have rewarded you with “wisdom.”
Even
if that envy were admiration, I don't see it as particularly helpful
or connective, however. To know the arc of our lives, we are called
to take a step back, and be compassionate with ourselves. We have
each been a younger version of our self. That young person was you.
With any luck, (or for the theists here, God willing or Insha'Allah),
you will progress along your arc and become an older version of
yourself. As we come to terms with ourselves at different ages in
the span of our lives, hand-in-hand we can develop stronger more
authentic connection with others. The corollary – as we connect
with others across generations, we have a greater opportunity to find
ourselves along our own personal arc.
Ultimately,
we are all made
of stars. This star
matter we have been fortunate enough to inherit, and imbue with
the spirit that resides within and beyond ourselves. This star
matter has cycled through humanity for countless millennia. Through
that matter, and the processes it provides a vehicle for, we are
deeply connected to our Earth and to each other. The wisdom and
drives of our long-dead ancestors call to us. The desires and
understandings of our future descendents call to us. Let us make
room for the voices of all drives and wisdom, including our own. Let
us tune and start the engine we are, and race to answer the call.
Blessed be, and amen.
Please
join with me in singing our next hymn, Building Bridges, #1023 in
your teal hymnal.
Labels: 1st UU principle, 2nd UU principle, ageism, anti-oppression, Henry, multiculturalism, organized religion, our mission, sermons
Saturday, March 16, 2013
sfood "why the dark angels like the dark"
J: Oh you don't know angels yet? Let me get this book…. So here are pictures of angels. They're God's messengers. Do they teach you about God at the JCC? El Shaddai, or Adonai?
H: No.
J: Jahweh?
H: No.
J: Well, they bring light to the world and deliver God's message to people about what it means to be good.
J: Oh, and here's the fallen angels, sometimes called devils. They like to make the world darker.
H: I think maybe that's because they can see better at night.
J: Hang on.... I have to write that down, because your words offered some new theological insights, regarding moral frameworks of reference. Thanks amigo.
H: Lumpy dumpy wissy woo!
H: Lumpy dumpy wissy woo!
Blessings and gratitude,
Joel
"May we trespass together into prophetic imagination." -Rev. Karen Tse
Labels: angels, Henry, oppression, theological sources
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Sandbox pose
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Text from Sermon #1: Regarding Candlepower
.
.
Regarding Candlepower
Delivered 9.27.2009 at First Unitarian Universalist Society of San Francisco
Light does not sit still. It wants to spread in every direction until it hits something to reflect off of, or to be absorbed.
But doesn’t the word “light” describe more than just matter or energy? From a spiritual perspective, light is knowledge, information, and reason—and even emotion. Light shows the paths available to us, and the light of understanding can help to dispel fear and confusion.
Candlepower is another term for luminous intensity, or how bright a light appears to be shining.
The title of this sermon is also a reference to actual candles. Now, I want to start with a brief story about a candle we have at home. He’s sitting right back there with his mom and grandma, and his name is Henry. Sometimes our infant wakes up alone in the bedroom with the lights out, and starts to wailing. I’ll go in and scoop him up to my chest, get the drool towel on my shoulder, and rock him back to sleep while singing in the darkened room. His favorite lullaby is actually a variant of “This Little Light of Mine” from our hymnal. He likes it best when I sing it under water. The underwater version goes something like this: “Thbibs lbibttble lbibliblbght obf mbibne, iblbl’m gmloblbing tblblo let it shine.” As soon as he gets close to nodding off, I switch over to a steady rhythmic version that I call the “Seraphim’s Lullaby.” In Judeo-Christian lore, the seraphim are the inner ring of angels singing songs of praise night and day to God.
This lullaby echoes the last word from “this little light of mine” in a rhythm as he starts to nod off. “Shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine , shine-shine,” which then repeats. Then as Henry’s totally conking out from the monotony, I work my way down to singing “Shine…” every eight beats, until I can finally lay him down slowly in the crib.
That to me is one example of a candle, it’s some personal information, a message that I sing to my baby, a prayer whose seeds will hopefully be planted deep within, for him to shine his light steady and strong, whatever that may turn out to be. And each of us has different messages, and different light to shed onto the world. Our light is composed of our experiences, perspectives, passions and hopes. Getting in touch with the uniqueness of our own light is a process of constant unfolding. Then when we shine out, it’s through our words and our deeds—through our life itself.
When our candles of life come together, they inform each other. By listening intently to the experiences, perspectives, passions and hopes of another, the light in ourselves grows in intensity, or changes hue. We can feel more strongly about our truths, or develop a more nuanced understanding. And when our own light is flickering, one candle can always light another, and that’s one empowering blessing of being among a community of broad-minded thinkers and compassionate feelers.
When enough people share in community, we have a rich discourse that becomes a bonfire, where we can not only have light, but also warmth, and sometimes “heat” when we come to disagreements. I’ve already witnessed that this congregation’s conversations are often energized enough to grow from words into action. And the fire turns into steady-burning coals….19th-century Universalist Mary Livermore tells a story how before there were matches, if your kitchen’s fire went out in the night, you either needed to work flint and steel together until a spark caught so you could light your tinder and rebuild your own fire from scratch (a painful proposition), or you would beg a shovelful of coals from a neighbor. A vibrant and thriving religious community like this one has coals it can offer, not just to the Sunday afternoon fellowship, the Lutherans, the Buddhists, and the other groups that meet here, but to the wider community. And they have coals that would enrich us as well.
A campfire like ours at First Unitarian Universalist is highly visible, and draws people in from further away. That’s our goal—to grow spiritually as a community, and draw people in, so that new visitors and old members alike can come here to fan the flames of their passions for justice, and become more active in the world. Here’s a question to ponder, what things have you found here that make you come to life, and make it natural to devote your time and energy here?
[pause for water, smack water glass against pulpit by accident]
Yet while a roaring fire is more robust than an individual candle, even our campfires are in danger of being blown out or diminished by the rain and the wind of an environment that doesn’t know to value what we have here. It’s all the more frightful when we find our voices shut out of the mass media, and there are other voices amplifying values that run counter to ours. Our good news that God loves everyone, and that everyone is saved isn’t likely to be well-received if it can’t be heard, or runs contrary to nihilistic and damaging messages blaring through the airwaves.
Our message presents danger to some people. For some, our news means questioning their whole worldview based on a personal and everlasting life, and accepting a savior to overcome sins. For others, it means weighing their relationship to the Earth and the welfare of its inhabitants against their own self-interests. Questioning fundamental assumptions and habits like these is difficult, and when people first hear our good news—and I realize there may be some sitting right out here today, or perhaps listening online—when people first hear our good news, we are a new candle joining an existing candle, which burns differently.
So our light can attract hostilities as well as friends. Our message brings cognitive dissonance and fear to some. Our goals may run counter to their goals of maintaining their livelihood, their lifestyle, or their retirement plans, or their hopes and fears for an afterlife, so they will fight our message. From Jesus decrying the Pharisees killing of prophets in Matthew 23, to Hypatia of Alexandria, to MLK, all the way to Van Jones, the brightest luminaries have been under attack by powers with vested interests, with their light diminished, sullied, or even snuffed-out. Humanist philosopher Erich Fromm says, “Those whose hope is weak settle down for comfort or violence; those whose hope is strong see and cherish all signs of new life, and are ready at every moment to help give birth to that which is ready to be born.” What light exists that can finally burn brightly enough that it cannot be snuffed out?
The Sun is one such source of light that will be constant and shining for ages to come. What would it take to get our message THAT bright? How about a compelling enough message to help draw in a critical mass of people sharing their lights on a global scale? Our message is right on: everyone’s together in this spherical blue and green boat, everyone’s included, and nobody should be left behind. Our message is one of communities rooted where they are, and extending out to any other communities who would join in common cause. The sixth Unitarian Universalist principle, states “[We...covenant to affirm and promote] the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” The thought that the sixth principle might come into reality is awe-inspiring, isn’t it? That’d be a huge change! One I hope we all learn to truly welcome.
The principle says “the goal of world community.” A goal is a dream with a deadline. We’re not about affirming the dream of a world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all. It’s a goal. There’s got to be a deadline, or the light is blurry. If we leave the deadline unset, then that’s just a dream deferred. That’s justice deferred, peace deferred, and liberty deferred.
So, what do we envision—how will we know when the goal of “world community” is successfully realized? It requires that we establish common ground on which to speak and listen freely. We can start by all acknowledging our common humanity, and the worth and dignity to be found in everyone. Until we do that, we’re standing on different ground, not common ground. From common ground, we can freely share the lights of our myriad communities of identity. And with that common ground conversation, we can equitably negotiate shared definitions for peace, liberty and justice.
We’ll need to do a lot of work to get to that common ground. From physics, power is defined asthe ability to do work in a given amount of time. A more powerful movement can get more work done more quickly. A more powerful movement is composed of more people participating more fully.
Today’s second lesson is the story of Aten, the god responsible for the Sun. This god was represented by a bright disk in the sky, with arms reaching out of it, each with a hand bearing gifts. More hands, more voices, more lives working for common ground means more power and faster work toward our goal. Not everybody’s going to join our churches. Perhaps they disagree with organized religion entirely, or perhaps they’re happy with the worship and the people of their own faith communities. But surely they will lend their hands and co-create with us once they see the light of our message, and our goal. And our fourth principle—the one about our “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” compels us to share this light with them, pronto. For when we truly embody truth and meaning, we find we’re responsible to act on it, and share it.
Until we create a deadline that we mean to be accountable to, there’s a disconnect at work here. The “end-times” or the “last generation” has been a concept people have anticipated at least since the book of revelation was written, and probably much earlier. For many people, the end of time, or to my understanding, the end of the age, was always “just a few years away.” But it’s been that way for countless generations. It’s time to get in sync, and focus our resolve and determination to bring the end of this age, through introducing a beloved world community.
The God I know and love, who waits with a plenitude of gifts that true community brings, has been ever-restless for world community to come into being. This God is getting less and less patient, first ringing the doorbell, then knocking, knocking, knocking, then pounding at the door, demanding, “Who put this door here? And why is it taking so long for them to answer?” There’s real pressure to answer the door, to answer this call, because nature has a way of making corrections. That danger to our environment is a real-life fire-and-brimstone scenario, which I’ll reserve for another sermon, some other time. We try not to work from a place of fear, so let’s instead look at the possibilities of opening the door and answering the call.
A few weeks ago, Rev. Fitch mentioned in his homily that this community needs to go public and show the world a new paradigm for the 21st century, and I would challenge us to take that a step further. To reach our goal, we need to shine the light of a 3rd millennium community. To guide humanity’s eyes toward the horizon and see the sunrise, and know that just as our message of world community starts to shine, so too, the fire of the human race is only just now beginning to burn like the stable star of today’s first lesson.
So I’ll ask, and this is not a rhetorical question, but you need not answer aloud right now: How soon do you think this world community can be delivered? How soon will we be able to establish common ground throughout the races, beyond national boundaries, and across ethnic lines? How soon until we can establish common ground for everyone based on the fact that they love and are loved, not based on what kind of person they love? And how soon until we can establish common ground that says nobody is left behind, that when we come to the economic table, nobody leaves hungry, without an adequate piece of the pie? What if that depends on us talking and acting on our goal of world community? How quickly can our light spread?
We are not alone. We have allies. Who are they? “Anybody who will answer to the call for this world community we yearn for.” But the call is critical. It brings the power of suggestion into play. Some people have forgotten their dreams, or do not believe we can achieve this goal. Perhaps they’ve never even thought about the possibility of world community. If we who carry this torch don’t invite them, they won’t know when or where to show up, or to show up at all.
And here’s more good news: for the most part world community happens as people come to life and join one at a time, empowering each other. The people you share this message with—your friends, family, maybe even people you’re just conversing with for the first time, they might really need Unitarian Universalism.
Before last week’s service while I was talking with a parishioner, I shared a little about this sermon, and I mentioned how long it took me to stumble upon this religion, and how there are a lot of people in the world out there who want—who need—the gifts of our theology. She shined her light right back and said, “and they have gifts that we need.” To me, that is a reminder of the true give-and-take involved in this commission.
Some say we need to get more people in our doors, and into our congregations, but I think it’s more than that. Howard Thurman, the longtime minister at the Church of the Fellowship of All Peoples just up Larkin Street, said: "Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." So get in touch with your passion and find or create an avenue to manifest that passion, either within or beyond these church walls, and get other people excited about it. And listen to others, and hear their passions, so they can realize their goals as well.
May the work that we do shine like the fusion of the Sun, and may this community achieve that goal of world community, with the inclusion of everyone and energy of everyone working toward it. And when you go forth from this place, may you know in your innermost heart that you carry the Sun within.
Amen.
Please stand and take a few moments to greet your neighbors during the hymn’s introduction, and then join in singing the Hymn of Hope, This Little Light of Mine, #118 in your hymnals.
There's a link to an audio recording of this sermon (and the full service) at http://www.uusf.org/AboutUUSF/SermonArchive/index.htm
prayer/mantra: 1 down, 10, 100, 200, 500, 1000+ to go...?
pax hominibus,
agape to everyone,
joel
.
Regarding Candlepower
Delivered 9.27.2009 at First Unitarian Universalist Society of San Francisco
Light does not sit still. It wants to spread in every direction until it hits something to reflect off of, or to be absorbed.
But doesn’t the word “light” describe more than just matter or energy? From a spiritual perspective, light is knowledge, information, and reason—and even emotion. Light shows the paths available to us, and the light of understanding can help to dispel fear and confusion.
Candlepower is another term for luminous intensity, or how bright a light appears to be shining.
The title of this sermon is also a reference to actual candles. Now, I want to start with a brief story about a candle we have at home. He’s sitting right back there with his mom and grandma, and his name is Henry. Sometimes our infant wakes up alone in the bedroom with the lights out, and starts to wailing. I’ll go in and scoop him up to my chest, get the drool towel on my shoulder, and rock him back to sleep while singing in the darkened room. His favorite lullaby is actually a variant of “This Little Light of Mine” from our hymnal. He likes it best when I sing it under water. The underwater version goes something like this: “Thbibs lbibttble lbibliblbght obf mbibne, iblbl’m gmloblbing tblblo let it shine.” As soon as he gets close to nodding off, I switch over to a steady rhythmic version that I call the “Seraphim’s Lullaby.” In Judeo-Christian lore, the seraphim are the inner ring of angels singing songs of praise night and day to God.
This lullaby echoes the last word from “this little light of mine” in a rhythm as he starts to nod off. “Shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine ,… shine, shine, shine , shine-shine,” which then repeats. Then as Henry’s totally conking out from the monotony, I work my way down to singing “Shine…” every eight beats, until I can finally lay him down slowly in the crib.
That to me is one example of a candle, it’s some personal information, a message that I sing to my baby, a prayer whose seeds will hopefully be planted deep within, for him to shine his light steady and strong, whatever that may turn out to be. And each of us has different messages, and different light to shed onto the world. Our light is composed of our experiences, perspectives, passions and hopes. Getting in touch with the uniqueness of our own light is a process of constant unfolding. Then when we shine out, it’s through our words and our deeds—through our life itself.
When our candles of life come together, they inform each other. By listening intently to the experiences, perspectives, passions and hopes of another, the light in ourselves grows in intensity, or changes hue. We can feel more strongly about our truths, or develop a more nuanced understanding. And when our own light is flickering, one candle can always light another, and that’s one empowering blessing of being among a community of broad-minded thinkers and compassionate feelers.
When enough people share in community, we have a rich discourse that becomes a bonfire, where we can not only have light, but also warmth, and sometimes “heat” when we come to disagreements. I’ve already witnessed that this congregation’s conversations are often energized enough to grow from words into action. And the fire turns into steady-burning coals….19th-century Universalist Mary Livermore tells a story how before there were matches, if your kitchen’s fire went out in the night, you either needed to work flint and steel together until a spark caught so you could light your tinder and rebuild your own fire from scratch (a painful proposition), or you would beg a shovelful of coals from a neighbor. A vibrant and thriving religious community like this one has coals it can offer, not just to the Sunday afternoon fellowship, the Lutherans, the Buddhists, and the other groups that meet here, but to the wider community. And they have coals that would enrich us as well.
A campfire like ours at First Unitarian Universalist is highly visible, and draws people in from further away. That’s our goal—to grow spiritually as a community, and draw people in, so that new visitors and old members alike can come here to fan the flames of their passions for justice, and become more active in the world. Here’s a question to ponder, what things have you found here that make you come to life, and make it natural to devote your time and energy here?
[pause for water, smack water glass against pulpit by accident]
Yet while a roaring fire is more robust than an individual candle, even our campfires are in danger of being blown out or diminished by the rain and the wind of an environment that doesn’t know to value what we have here. It’s all the more frightful when we find our voices shut out of the mass media, and there are other voices amplifying values that run counter to ours. Our good news that God loves everyone, and that everyone is saved isn’t likely to be well-received if it can’t be heard, or runs contrary to nihilistic and damaging messages blaring through the airwaves.
Our message presents danger to some people. For some, our news means questioning their whole worldview based on a personal and everlasting life, and accepting a savior to overcome sins. For others, it means weighing their relationship to the Earth and the welfare of its inhabitants against their own self-interests. Questioning fundamental assumptions and habits like these is difficult, and when people first hear our good news—and I realize there may be some sitting right out here today, or perhaps listening online—when people first hear our good news, we are a new candle joining an existing candle, which burns differently.
So our light can attract hostilities as well as friends. Our message brings cognitive dissonance and fear to some. Our goals may run counter to their goals of maintaining their livelihood, their lifestyle, or their retirement plans, or their hopes and fears for an afterlife, so they will fight our message. From Jesus decrying the Pharisees killing of prophets in Matthew 23, to Hypatia of Alexandria, to MLK, all the way to Van Jones, the brightest luminaries have been under attack by powers with vested interests, with their light diminished, sullied, or even snuffed-out. Humanist philosopher Erich Fromm says, “Those whose hope is weak settle down for comfort or violence; those whose hope is strong see and cherish all signs of new life, and are ready at every moment to help give birth to that which is ready to be born.” What light exists that can finally burn brightly enough that it cannot be snuffed out?
The Sun is one such source of light that will be constant and shining for ages to come. What would it take to get our message THAT bright? How about a compelling enough message to help draw in a critical mass of people sharing their lights on a global scale? Our message is right on: everyone’s together in this spherical blue and green boat, everyone’s included, and nobody should be left behind. Our message is one of communities rooted where they are, and extending out to any other communities who would join in common cause. The sixth Unitarian Universalist principle, states “[We...covenant to affirm and promote] the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” The thought that the sixth principle might come into reality is awe-inspiring, isn’t it? That’d be a huge change! One I hope we all learn to truly welcome.
The principle says “the goal of world community.” A goal is a dream with a deadline. We’re not about affirming the dream of a world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all. It’s a goal. There’s got to be a deadline, or the light is blurry. If we leave the deadline unset, then that’s just a dream deferred. That’s justice deferred, peace deferred, and liberty deferred.
So, what do we envision—how will we know when the goal of “world community” is successfully realized? It requires that we establish common ground on which to speak and listen freely. We can start by all acknowledging our common humanity, and the worth and dignity to be found in everyone. Until we do that, we’re standing on different ground, not common ground. From common ground, we can freely share the lights of our myriad communities of identity. And with that common ground conversation, we can equitably negotiate shared definitions for peace, liberty and justice.
We’ll need to do a lot of work to get to that common ground. From physics, power is defined asthe ability to do work in a given amount of time. A more powerful movement can get more work done more quickly. A more powerful movement is composed of more people participating more fully.
Today’s second lesson is the story of Aten, the god responsible for the Sun. This god was represented by a bright disk in the sky, with arms reaching out of it, each with a hand bearing gifts. More hands, more voices, more lives working for common ground means more power and faster work toward our goal. Not everybody’s going to join our churches. Perhaps they disagree with organized religion entirely, or perhaps they’re happy with the worship and the people of their own faith communities. But surely they will lend their hands and co-create with us once they see the light of our message, and our goal. And our fourth principle—the one about our “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” compels us to share this light with them, pronto. For when we truly embody truth and meaning, we find we’re responsible to act on it, and share it.
Until we create a deadline that we mean to be accountable to, there’s a disconnect at work here. The “end-times” or the “last generation” has been a concept people have anticipated at least since the book of revelation was written, and probably much earlier. For many people, the end of time, or to my understanding, the end of the age, was always “just a few years away.” But it’s been that way for countless generations. It’s time to get in sync, and focus our resolve and determination to bring the end of this age, through introducing a beloved world community.
The God I know and love, who waits with a plenitude of gifts that true community brings, has been ever-restless for world community to come into being. This God is getting less and less patient, first ringing the doorbell, then knocking, knocking, knocking, then pounding at the door, demanding, “Who put this door here? And why is it taking so long for them to answer?” There’s real pressure to answer the door, to answer this call, because nature has a way of making corrections. That danger to our environment is a real-life fire-and-brimstone scenario, which I’ll reserve for another sermon, some other time. We try not to work from a place of fear, so let’s instead look at the possibilities of opening the door and answering the call.
A few weeks ago, Rev. Fitch mentioned in his homily that this community needs to go public and show the world a new paradigm for the 21st century, and I would challenge us to take that a step further. To reach our goal, we need to shine the light of a 3rd millennium community. To guide humanity’s eyes toward the horizon and see the sunrise, and know that just as our message of world community starts to shine, so too, the fire of the human race is only just now beginning to burn like the stable star of today’s first lesson.
So I’ll ask, and this is not a rhetorical question, but you need not answer aloud right now: How soon do you think this world community can be delivered? How soon will we be able to establish common ground throughout the races, beyond national boundaries, and across ethnic lines? How soon until we can establish common ground for everyone based on the fact that they love and are loved, not based on what kind of person they love? And how soon until we can establish common ground that says nobody is left behind, that when we come to the economic table, nobody leaves hungry, without an adequate piece of the pie? What if that depends on us talking and acting on our goal of world community? How quickly can our light spread?
We are not alone. We have allies. Who are they? “Anybody who will answer to the call for this world community we yearn for.” But the call is critical. It brings the power of suggestion into play. Some people have forgotten their dreams, or do not believe we can achieve this goal. Perhaps they’ve never even thought about the possibility of world community. If we who carry this torch don’t invite them, they won’t know when or where to show up, or to show up at all.
And here’s more good news: for the most part world community happens as people come to life and join one at a time, empowering each other. The people you share this message with—your friends, family, maybe even people you’re just conversing with for the first time, they might really need Unitarian Universalism.
Before last week’s service while I was talking with a parishioner, I shared a little about this sermon, and I mentioned how long it took me to stumble upon this religion, and how there are a lot of people in the world out there who want—who need—the gifts of our theology. She shined her light right back and said, “and they have gifts that we need.” To me, that is a reminder of the true give-and-take involved in this commission.
Some say we need to get more people in our doors, and into our congregations, but I think it’s more than that. Howard Thurman, the longtime minister at the Church of the Fellowship of All Peoples just up Larkin Street, said: "Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." So get in touch with your passion and find or create an avenue to manifest that passion, either within or beyond these church walls, and get other people excited about it. And listen to others, and hear their passions, so they can realize their goals as well.
May the work that we do shine like the fusion of the Sun, and may this community achieve that goal of world community, with the inclusion of everyone and energy of everyone working toward it. And when you go forth from this place, may you know in your innermost heart that you carry the Sun within.
Amen.
Please stand and take a few moments to greet your neighbors during the hymn’s introduction, and then join in singing the Hymn of Hope, This Little Light of Mine, #118 in your hymnals.
There's a link to an audio recording of this sermon (and the full service) at http://www.uusf.org/AboutUUSF/SermonArchive/index.htm
prayer/mantra: 1 down, 10, 100, 200, 500, 1000+ to go...?
pax hominibus,
agape to everyone,
joel
Labels: astrophysics, favorite scriptural passages, globalism, heaven on earth, Henry, inter-faith, our mission, pax hominibus/bright shiny future, religious community, sermons
