Happy Mothers’ Day to all our mothers, and to all those hoping to some day be mothers. Since Fathers’ Day is rarely celebrated here in the Summer months, let me extend the same to all our dads, and dads-to-be. And for those of us who are mourning our parents, may we hold them in our hearts this hour so that the memories that are good may echo on in our own living actions.

By a show of hands, who hear has noticed that I’m preaching from the floor this morning? (Oh good, most of you. I must be doing something right so far.) I’ll be preaching from the lectern this morning because I’ll be moving around a bit more than usual, and the high pulpit doesn’t have much room to move about.

As some of you may already know, before there were Hallmark cards, Mothers’ Day was started as a day of peace. It was a political activist call for Mothers to stand united to call for the return of their sons and daughters home from war. It’s grown into a secular holiday that celebrates motherhood, but it’s rooted in a peace movement.

A peace movement may seem a bit quieter these days than it did generations ago, but it’s no less important. As I remind us from time to time, my generation, and the generation that came before me and the generation that’s coming after me, have never really known a time when the U.S. wasn’t at war. Even if it might seem to most of us that war doesn’t really affect us. Some of us have family that are abroad, or have friends who have died in war. I personally haven’t felt that loss close to home, although I do have family serving in the military right now. For most of us who don’t know anyone serving in active duty, war is a thing that’s far away, or just in video games. We don’t have to put ourselves at risk. We don’t have to ration butter like they did in World War II. We don’t have to risk being drafted by the military against our will, like folks had to in the Vietnam War.

For many of us, we can kind of forget about it. And that’s a sad thing. It’s not sad because we’re not really affected. It’s sad because some Americans are very, very affected, but most of us don’t have to share that burden. A few people are asked to accept huge risks to their safety and quality of life, while most of us don’t have to shoulder anything at all. It’s sad because it makes it easy to think war’s not that big of a deal, when it’s a huge deal for a few people. It makes me wonder if bringing back the draft weren’t a good idea after all – at least everyone would realize that war might affect them, and maybe we would go to war less frequently or with more reservation. I do recognize that sometimes defending ourselves is necessary. By less frequently – I mean – “not being at war all the time.”

Alright everyone, you can stop smiling now. If you need to go back to frowning, feel free. Although you may want to bask in the waves of niceness coming off everyone for a few more minutes first. Did anything bad just happen? Did anyone break out into a fight? No, good. By a show of hands, did anyone actually feel better, you know, happy?

That’s what the Buddhists are getting at. With some rare exceptions, if you smile, a sense of peace does break forth. I learned this smiling trick had some real-world work applications too. In a former career, I ran a computer helpdesk for 5 years. I would tell my staff that the more someone on the other end of the phone was driving them crazy, the more they should force themselves to smile. It’s hard to sound mean while you smile. I’m sure you can do it, but it’s tougher. … (smiling) “When you say that your computer crashed, and you went to your email, and then nothing happened… what sort of nothing actually happened…?”

So where does the “art” piece come in that I mentioned? Let me tell you the story of Vashti and “the Dot” by Peter. H. Reynolds.

You notice how Vashti realized that she wasn’t the only person who could learn how to make art? I love this story because it reminds us that even when she’s kind of the hero of the tale because she learns to be an artist, she extends that gift upon someone else. She finds another classmate who was feeling all down because he was really bad at drawing a straight line (a fellow after my own artistic heart – a ruler doesn’t always help me either. In fact, I asked my partner to help me with the straight lines that were pre-drawn on our canvas for this morning’s story. Yes, sometimes’ I’m that bad.) So she finds that other classmate, and Vashti inspires him to bring about his own talent, to make his mark, and to sign his name onto what he just crafted.

That’s the art of peace. It’s about coming to accept we can do whatever small thing we can do – even if it’s just making our mark in a small way at one time and place. Then owning our efforts for what they are. And most importantly, helping to inspire another person after us to be creative in their own way.

During our prayer this morning, we crafted a peace mosaic out of colored felt squares. Each was just one little bit of color, that on its own didn’t do much to create the symbol of peace on our flag. But when about 200 or so of us each made our own mark, it became a lot easier to make out the symbol of peace that was lying there waiting to show. For those of us who believe in God, we often see God’s presence in things like this. Individual acts of compassion or care, over time, seem to paint a pattern that’s hard to see if you only look at the one act. We all benefit from so many acts of kindness that have allowed us to live as we do, too many to see by themselves, and there is a sense for some of us that they’re leading to something more.

When we leave this worship, what can those marks of peace look like? Let’s hear some ideas, I’ll repeat them back if I can hear you so that we can all hear…. what can those marks of peace look like?

It’s also the art for building a more effective ministry in this congregation. To paraphrase a colleague, “To be welcomed, is to be welcoming.” When we haven’t been reached out to, we can always be the one to reach out. I think of Vashti and her teacher. Vashti had no interest in making art. Her teacher didn’t accept Vashti’s lack of excitement for an answer, and kept meeting her halfway till she came along. Sometimes we all have to do that in community, or in our playgrounds, or our co-ops. When others aren’t meeting you where you are, sometimes you have to meet them where they are. There’s no rule for it, but there is an art to it.

We pause this morning in our annual day of remembrance,

For all the parents in our lives who have helped us to grow to be

The people we have strived to be.

We know that within this room,

And within each of our hearts,

There’s a complicated mixture of joy, sadness, heartache and love,

When we think of the word “Mother.”

Where we have known moments of laughter and lightness,

We give thanks.

Where we have felt grief, and pain,

We offer up our silence…

…

Knowing that words can rarely help us along those difficult roads;

Only friendship, care, and honesty can.

May we remember the times in our childhood,

The small moments,

That shown beyond themselves.

May they offer peace, where there is conflict.

Remind us that every moment,

Holds within it the opportunity for motherhood,

For mentoring, for parenting,

for caring for the children around us,

and the child that is within every one of us,

no matter how old we may be.

We hold especially in our hearts this morning,

The families inNorth Carolina, who have been hurt by the hateful passage of Amendment 1, denying same-gendered couples their right to marry.

As a religious community, we stand in solidarity with Love;

That sacred embodiment of value, worth, and compassion,

That any two people would be blessed to every feel for one another.

May our communities come to mature,

to grow into a deeper sense of the spirit,

one filled generosity for those that are different than themselves,

so that all within our nation may come to feel respected,

and live lives of peace as they feel so called.

I invite the gathering to lift up aloud the names of people you wish to have held in prayer.

Give your hearts to the silence and the song,

And may you find rest where you are weary,

Hope when you are searching,

And peace amidst the pace of our lives.

We make sacred this hour,

Through our commitment to gather.

#30 Small Group Ministry Session Written by Rev. Jude Geiger, MRE, First Unitarian, Brooklyn - Based on the sermon, “The Real Dirt” preached by Rev. Ana Levy-Lyons at First UU on 4/22/12 found here:

http://www.fuub.org/home/clergy/sermons/?sermon_id=69

Welcome & Opening Chalice Lighting  (Please read aloud) #484 In Singing the Living Tradition by William Henry Channing

Statement of Purpose:  To nurture our spirits and deepen our friendships.

Brief Check-In: Share your name and something you have left behind to be here.

Covenant Reflection

Reading: An Excerpt/Edit from the sermon, “The Real Dirt.”

The producers of the modern french fry seem to believe that nobody will appreciate the integrity of good soil or of the potato that grows unseen underground. Likewise, nobody will appreciate or even know if you do good unseen, underground. The social Capitalist, the voice that’s always running the cost/benefit analysis, argues with Jesus on this point, saying, “I mean, if you’re going to do a good deed anyway, why not get the benefit of having people know about it? If you give all your money away to charity and you do it anonymously, no one’s going to think you’re a good person, they’ll just think you’re poor.”

Here is where I disagree. From what I’ve observed, the deep truth of a person or thing eventually seeps out and becomes legible. No one can pretend to be something they are not forever. Any kind of façade that does not integrate with what’s behind it ultimately crumbles. Conversely, if you focus on being the person you are even in ways that are not visible to others, people will get it, even if they don’t know why.

Discussion Questions: Our founding American Unitarian minister, William Ellery Channing once said to a classmate, “In my view, religion is another name for happiness, and I am most cheerful when I am most religious.”[1] The larger context for this quote was a discussion around the notion of ‘making America a better country.’

How does Rev. Levy-Lyons’ notion of “the deep truth of a person” relate to your sense of character? Where are you in the continuum between the ‘social Capitalist’ and ‘Jesus?’ Can you share a story of a time when someone’s hidden character shined brightly? How did it move you? What about religious living brings you inner satisfaction, or happiness as Rev. Channing spoke of?

Closing:   (please read aloud – responsively if you have several copies) #568 “Connections are Made Slowly” by Marge Piercy In Singing the Living Tradition)

We have two competing myths in our society. “If you dream big enough, you can change everything in your life.” The second pops up in dating advice when things go sour, “No one ever really changes.” We sometimes flip back and forth between those two when we want to hear a different answer. Both are true in their own way, or we wouldn’t repeat them as much as we do. But both are also not quite right.

For the first – dreaming big enough – think about school. If you work hard enough you can get into a great school, and a whole lot of opportunities can open up for you. But sometimes dreaming big isn’t about getting into the great school, it’s about stepping away for a time from how things are usually done. It can be about taking the time away from the crazy pace and reflecting on the life you want to make. What is it these days – starting in 7th grade or 8^th grade – that NYC students take regents that determine what schools they’ll be allowed to enter? And by 16 you’ve got pressure to decide what you’ll study as an adult – if you take the path of college – that may or may not determine your first career. If you dream big enough, you can change everything in your life… just make sure that you start planning it by the time you’re 12.

To our Seniors graduating High School this year, as an adult you can always decide to do things differently. Sometimes you’ll have repercussions for the choice you make though. Here’s a secret I’m going to let you in on right now. Even if when the time comes to make that kind of life-changing decision, you decide not to do things differently, there are still repercussions. That’s the great lesson of adulthood – you can’t get away from it. You can change your major 7 times like I did, and still be fine. You can drop out of college, like I did, and pick up the pieces later. Or you can delay college, and take the time to figure out what you need to do without the pressure of high cost tuition till you know what your heart wants. And your heart may change over time – in fact it likely will.

That’s the part of cliche dating advice, “No one ever really changes,” that’s a bit off. A lot of people actually change quite a bit over time. We just don’t always see it over the short-term. It’s why some of us will always be seen as the controlling sibling, or the clueless parent, or the irresponsible child. Changing bits at a time are often hard to see, and families tend toward stasis – acting the way we always acted – having the same fights we’ve always had. Does that happen also in congregational life?

With adulthood, there’s a chance to change some of that, and yet we often change less than we could. When we move out of the house (for the first time) the world feels so different. When we return home for the first time – everything feels like it hasn’t changed a bit, but it all feels so strange. It feels like our childhood home could fit in one of those glass snow globes, and we’re a stranger looking in from the outside, able to shake out the memories but not go back inside.

For those of us who have been driving already, maybe for a while – do you remember that first time you got into a car and drove away from home? Even if it was just for the afternoon? What did that feel like to you? I remember this incredible sense of freedom – even though I knew I needed to go back home that day. Things were somehow different. I had more control over my life. Entering adulthood is like that feeling. But as time goes on, that feeling disappears. Maybe major changes, like shifting careers, or moving to the City or away from it, or graduating from college, might trigger the feeling again. But for the most part, over time those feelings are forgotten.

I think that forgetting is part of why we start to believe that people don’t change, or that we can’t change. We fall into our habits, or take on responsibilities, or feel real obligations, and change becomes harder and harder with greater and greater repercussions. But remember – repercussions happen whether we change or not. We just need to choose or accept which repercussions we can learn to live with.

Growing up is like a scene from “Mission Impossible” (I’m thinking the old T.V. show and not the snazzy recent movies – but that’s just because I’m of-a-certain-age.) Some mysterious figure comes up to you, hands you an otherwise impossible assignment, and pretends like you have a choice in the matter. Then all record of what you have to accomplish goes up in a puff of smoke and fire, and you’re left picking up the pieces. For the most part, everything will work out as well as it could for an otherwise impossible set-up. You just have to figure a way with the cards that you have been dealt, with the team that you have. Or in the words of the great UU Philosopher-Theologian, Dr. Seuss, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…” (from Oh, the Places You’ll Go!)

But there’s another flip to all of this. Growing up is not just about you. If you can change, make big choices in life, see and live in a new way – then the people around you can do the same as well. When you find yourself saying, “why won’t Mom realize that I’ve grown up, that I’m an adult now,” …and believe me you will find yourself saying that very soon… look for how you’re treating Mom or Dad the way you always have. If they’re treating you the same as usual, you’re probably also stuck doing the same. As an only child I can’t say from personal experience that it’s worse among siblings, but I’ve seen many friends who’s sibling rivalry or sibling friendship grow only more intense over time. It’s a great trick in the work-world as well. It’s why people give the advice, “Start as you mean to continue.” Because whatever way you begin, is often how people will expect, or even demand, you to be around them. It takes a long time to change your patterns, and folks often take an even longer time to recognize the newness in your habits and styles. Just keep at it, and your world will eventually catch up.

We pause this morning to take a breath before the great change that is before us,

for the changes that are stunning, that are obvious,

that bring us excitement, and joy,

and those that stagger us, that carry with them fear, and trembling.

We pause before those changes that come to us unbidden, and unknown.

In every moment the world grows into new directions

that are both clear and hazy.

We recognize that our vision helps us only so far,

that our expectations have but limited relevance,

and that our dreams only frame what is possible.

Gather this community together this hour,

May every candle lit, hold witness to our hopes and silences;

hold witness to the love that is before us,

and the stories that have brought us this far.

Our community is beginning its next step along the path of ministry.

May the walking be for gladness, and possibility;

May our ministry together be for healing and transformation;

And may we have the strength to continue down this road together,

with Your Spirit of Peace.

Quicken our spirits to possibility this Easter morning.

May the hope of this season stir our hearts to compassion and forbearance,

Humbled before this great story of life in the face of suffering,

We remember all those lives who have been taught to endure.

All those people who suffer under adversity.

May we never become complacent to the grief of our neighbor,

May we come to understand the role we have in the strife of this world,

And find the courage of our convictions to transform our lives and our ways.

For those who struggle in silence – we pray:

May we not become consumed in self-doubt,

May we lift up the burden of self-blame,

and find a path forward in love.

We hold up the challenges of this family holiday,

Celebrating with those of us surrounded by loving family,

Mourning with those who are grieving the loss of someone dear,

And honoring the reality that many of us struggle with love and frustration over awkward family meals,

Knowing that sometimes the meal is not even to be had.

God of Love, may we this Easter, come back to our center,

And find in our lives a sense of abundance,

Where we feel broken,

A sense of compassion where we were cold,

And know a message of hope when we are lost.

Our text is a difficult one today. Jesus stands before the worldly powers, – the chief priests, the elders, the scribes and even the face of the Roman authority in occupiedIsrael. It’s a text that is often confused in the retelling, laying blame upon the hands of Jews for the death of another Jew. To be fair, some of the gospel writers had the politics of the day in mind. They needed to convince a Roman world, that it was not to blame for the death of the Messiah.

Spiritually, we can also look at it as a testament to the audacity of life in the face of power. Theologian Delores Williams writes, “‎”Jesus did not come to redeem humans by showing them God’s ‘love’ manifested in the death of God’s innocent child on a cross erected by cruel, imperialistic, patriarchal power. Rather… the spirit of God in Jesus came to show humans life – to show redemption through a perfect ministerial vision of righting relations between the body (individual and community), mind (of humans and of tradition) and spirit.” I feel this is the spirit of the Christian path that most strongly lives on in our Unitarian Universalist communities. How do we live a life of meaning, amidst all the world’s struggles around wealth, authority, and consumption? How do we build up communities when nations sometimes seek to divide and control? Which traditions hold us up and which traditions hold us back? Does a life of spirit have meaning to us any longer, and what does it feel like if it does?

The world of the bible is in some ways very similar to ours. It speaks of a people trying to survive within radically changing times. We are blessed here not to suffer under an imperial power, but many around us know the curse of poverty, or the imbalance in a stratifying economy, or the lack of equitable access to opportunities. Religion is changing, family structures are changing, how we view security, safety and information are all matters in flux. And today we focus in on the life of a prophet who reminded us there was a right way to live. In fact, his students were known as “followers of the way.” In this path, we’re asked not only to love our neighbor as our self. Not only to forgive 70 times 70. But to lift up the poor, to steer away from worldly power, and that some things in life are not only worth dying for, but are worth living for.

It is his life, and his path, that we remember tonight.

#29 Small Group Ministry Session on “White Rage” Written by Rev. Jude Geiger, MRE, First Unitarian,Brooklyn - Based on his sermon preached at First UU on 3/25/12 found here:

http://revwho.com/2012/03/25/white-rage/

Welcome & Opening Chalice Lighting  (Please read aloud) #429 In Singing the Living Tradition by William F. Schulz

Statement of Purpose:  To nurture our spirits and deepen our friendships.

Brief Check-In: Share your name and something you have left behind to be here.

Covenant Reflection

Reading: An Excerpt/Edit from the sermon, “White Rage.”

Religion can be of help here. We don’t need to feel like we have to go at it all alone. Likewise, when we’re successful, we don’t have to feel like it’s us against and over the world. Rage is rooted in this sense of separateness. We are left broken when we allow rage to uproot us from that web of life of which we are a crucial part. Feeling rage is not wrong. Allowing rage to indignantly convince us that we stand apart from that web, our family, is the source of crisis. When it rears its angry head, acknowledge it for what it is… and let it go. It’s not real – only our actions are real.

Sometimes that’s hard to believe. For me, that’s where faith comes in. There’s a certain point where we just need to tell the mind – the part of us that repeats the tired old story that we’re not loved, or that we don’t care, or that the world stands against us so we should stand against the world – tell that voice to settle down. Even if we can’t see the other side, we may need to find a sense of faith that allows us to believe that there can be another way. We may not be thinking logically, and then logic isn’t going to help all too much.

Discussion Questions: The sermon talks about the change in the quality of living of the average white American over the past 25 years. These economic shifts often confuse conversations about race dynamics, privilege and power. In our country, as financial situations worsen for the majority of Americans, we also see an increase in attempts to mitigate the rights of Women, LGBT and Immigrants. How do these seemingly unrelated issues connect for you? What emotional responses do you feel? Have you found yourself wrestling with anger, rage, or fear as these conversations and changes play out in our national discourse? Where do you find hope in the face of the struggle?

Closing:   (please read aloud) #469 The Wisdom of Solomon 7 (In Singing the Living Tradition)

We have a sometimes problematic tradition here where ministers need to post their sermon titles four to six weeks in advance – and still be expected that our subject matter is timely and relevant. I’m very sad to say that this week’s topic “White Rage” is tragically both timely and relevant. I will still speak about how we often talk about race dynamics in terms of oppression, abuse and power while attempting to speak to the perspective of victimized people. I will still take a hard look at the spirituality and psychology of Whiteness.” But along with the focus of our prayer this morning,I feel we need to begin with the death of Trayvon Martin. This great crisis in our country is tied to the reality that if Trayvon’s death weren’t in the news this week, my sermon on White Rage would have still another story to focus on. It was always going to be sadly, very timely. Racism in theUnited Statesis not merely about prejudice. It’s the source of pain, death and sorrow for millions – if not hundreds of millions.

On the night of February, 26th, 17 year old Trayvon Martin was shot and killed while walking home from a store with a bag of skittles and some iced tea, in his hometown ofSanford,Fla.The LA Times wrote on Friday about the death threats his assailant George Zimmerman has been receiving. Zimmerman apparently has gone in hiding because of those death threats. Note that he’s not hiding from the police – he’s not being sought for arrest. He continues to claim self-defense.

The LA Times article ends with this: ““For at least eight years, Zimmerman seems to have been part of a neighborhood watch group, based in his Retreat atTwinLakescommunity. During that time he called the police department at least 46 times with reports of various sightings such as open garages and suspicious people, often African American, it was reported. It was such a call that police released last week. Zimmerman told the 911 operator that he saw a suspicious teenager.

“Something’s wrong with him. Yep. He’s coming to check me out,” Zimmerman told a police dispatcher in a 911 call released Monday. “He’s got something in his hands. I don’t know what his deal is. Send officers over here.”

The teen started to run, Zimmerman reported. When Zimmerman said he was following, the dispatcher told him, “We don’t need you to do that.”

Shortly afterward, neighbors began calling 911 to report a fight, then a gunshot. By the time police arrived, Trayvon Martin was dead.””

Now when I read this, I’m sure we will learn more and more in the weeks ahead about the life of Zimmerman. I will not use this pulpit to convict a man. But I will use it to seek to come to terms with this tragedy in the face of how our country wrestles with the facts as they come in. We held a moment of silence during our prayer today for the life and family of Trayvon Martin. In a sense we are helpless in the face of their loss – and words may feel empty. And yet, we can allow this story to demand that we call out the horrors of violence and prejudice wherever they are rooted. Some of this is based in race dynamics. Some of this in power. Some of this in fear. Some in ignorance. But it’s also rooted in apathy. It’s rooted in gun laws that make it easy for civilians to pretend they’re heroes in their own minds. (…The teen started to run, Zimmerman reported. When Zimmerman said he was following, the dispatcher told him, “We don’t need you to do that.”) But he did it anyway. It’s rooted in always giving the benefit of the doubt to the assailant when the victim is a person of color – knowing the reverse seems rarely true.

Does anyone here doubt for one second, that should this horror story befall one of our white teens in this congregation, that their assailant wouldn’t be behind bars? Would we ever rest before justice was found? For that matter, would our white teen even be seen to be suspicious in the first place? We should hold a moment of silence in the face of this dreadful inequality.

The race dynamics are complicated here. Zimmerman was first described by the police as white. But his own family identifies as hispanic. Regardless of the perceived color of the assailant, the civic, legal and political responses here are typical for how those bodies deal with many Black Americans. I am no longer shocked by the inhumane responses we’ve heard from pundits and leaders alike defending the gun laws. Geraldo Rivera said, “I’ll bet you money, if he didn’t have that hoodie on, that nutty neighborhood watch guy wouldn’t have responded in that violent and aggressive way…”. That nutty neighborhood watch guy… Or Glenn Beck’s web-based attempt to link Trayvon Martin’s suspension from school to a fantasized criminal record – implying but not directly saying he may have deserved to be killed. Or Newt Gingrich’s attempt to turn this into a political moment for himself by falsely claiming President Obama was playing a race card – calling the president’s off-the-cuff words “disgraceful.”

The Rev. Sean Dennison (a UU minister inCalifornia) writes, “One way that racism works: tell people that telling the truth or even talking about race is “disgraceful.” We should all pretend that racism doesn’t exist. If you mention it, you’re somehow in the wrong.” Sean’s words are very apt. There’s a desire to pretend this tragedy would have played out the same way regardless of the color of the victim. I don’t believe that to be true.

Pulling back from the story of Trayvon Martin, where do all these reactions come from? Why is there a desire to pretend we treat all victims the same? Why do we feel the need to say folks who dress a certain way are inherently more dangerous? Why do white pundits try to fabricate criminal records for black children? Where does the rage come from in some white people?

I believe it’s in part sourced in the crossroads between the myth of the American Dream, and the pain we feel when things that used to go our way stop seeming to go our way. Then we project onto the world the drama that’s going on inside our heads. The American Dream says that if you work hard enough, you’ll achieve financial success, a house, and 2-point-something children. For some people that’s still true. But I’m willing to wager that if I were to ask for a show of hands (and I pointedly will not today) who here feels they have both worked hard and achieved financial success that we’d have less people than who could fit in a single row of pews. And yet, we still want to believe that if we work hard enough, we’ll get there. All on our own.

Or for those who have succeeded by working hard, there’s a inclination to want to say, “Well, I did it. So could you. And if you haven’t yet succeeded, it’s just because you didn’t work hard enough.” And sometimes that’s true. Sometimes, misfortune is tied to lack of effort or skill. But there’s a whole range that’s in between. It’s not always, or even often, either/or. Then there’s what I call the shifting landscape. The financial realities of working-class Americans is different now than when this American Dream was fabricated – or even in it’s heyday. And it directly affects how those who were raised with privilege react when they no longer seem to have the same opportunities their parents had. We often hear this described by conservatives as the decline of family values, or the collapse of the morals of plain old hard work.

In a Feb 10th opinion post, NY Times economist, Paul Krugman talks about this perception. He writes, “For lower-education working men, however, it has been all negative. Adjusted for inflation, entry-level wages of male high school graduates have fallen 23 percent since 1973. Meanwhile, employment benefits have collapsed. In 1980, 65 percent of recent high-school graduates working in the private sector had health benefits, but, by 2009, that was down to 29 percent.” He goes on to point out that, “much of the social disruption among African-Americans popularly attributed to collapsing values was actually caused by a lack of blue-collar jobs in urban areas.” He concludes with the rhetorical question, “you would expect something similar to happen if another social group — say, working-class whites — experienced a comparable loss of economic opportunity. And so it has.” I’ll save you all the mathwork Krugman has done. If you’re interested you can follow the links to it when this sermon is live on-line. But assuming that this Nobel Prize winning economist’s numbers are accurate, the White Working Class sector is suffering financial hardships in ways it hasn’t in generations (not that any other working-class group is doing well.) And I notice that at the same time, there is an influx of conservative outrage over the agency of women’s bodies, the definition of marriage, and now, the right of individuals to chase teenagers with hoodies down the street with a gun despite 911 saying “We don’t need you to do that.”

All this financial decline for the working class since 1973, the same year as the landmark decision of Roe. v. Wade. It’s a social conservative fantasy that if only we went back to that world where certain people were in charge (men, whites) all this would get better again. Ignoring all the safeguards and parameters that were once in place back then – Unions, better benefits, shorter work weeks, less disparity between the richest and the poorest, less need for the expense of graduate education to succeed or even be employed, and the list goes on. And the white working class – which these days some would say feels the same as the white middle class – is wrestling with a rage we don’t exactly understand. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing, and it’s just not working anymore. And you say you have problems!” And we get filled with rage. Rage because things that were once easy aren’t any longer. Rage because we’re experiencing financial hardships that other racial groups have had to live with generationally. Rage because we might be coming to realize that our own success may have less to do with our own actions, and more from the privilege of our skin. And we just don’t want to be told that.

Religion can be of help here. We don’t need to feel like we have to go at it all alone. Likewise, when we’re successful, we don’t have to feel like it’s us against and over the world. Rage is rooted in this sense of separateness. We are left broken when we allow rage to uproot us from that web of life of which we are a crucial part. Feeling rage is not wrong. Allowing rage to indignantly convince us that we stand apart from that web, our family, is the source of crisis. When it rears its angry head, acknowledge it for what it is… and let it go. It’s not real – only our actions are real.

Sometimes that’s hard to believe. For me, that’s where faith comes in. There’s a certain point where we just need to tell the mind – the part of us that repeats the tired old story that we’re not loved, or that we don’t care, or that the world stands against us so we should stand against the world – tell that voice to settle down. Even if we can’t see the other side, we may need to find a sense of faith that allows us to believe that there can be another way. We may not be thinking logically, and then logic isn’t going to help all too much.

If this is too ephemeral – or you feel like you have no sense of rage in your life – or you’ve got a good work/life balance – or your everyday problems are well in hand. (Bless you, and teach me how you’ve managed so well.) Take a look at congregational life. Our nation is not the only group that is experiencing massive cultural changes. We’re going to go through some changes ourselves – not only in this interim year, but with a new minister who brings with her a whole different set of life experiences. When you find yourself saying, “But this is how we’ve been doing this for 20 years,” ask yourself to slow down. The world as it was, is not the world as it is. That’s a hard thing to say out loud. And it’s a very hard thing to hear.

We all know that some things ought to be honored. And some things need to change enough to allow new folks, new faces, and new visions room to grow. We ought to be wary whenever our actions seek to control the views, expressions, and habits of others. That tendency is as much a male tendency as it is a white tendency. Patriarchal is only one step away from Colonial – and both are demeaning. They are not tendencies that are reserved only for men or only for white folk, but us white fellows have excelled at both.

I don’t mention these challenges around change to make a connection between them and the violence we see in the world. I mention them because how we manage our fears around change, influences how we manage our anger, and how we foster this sense of rage that can build up inside any of us. It also influences what our community can come to look like, and who it can come to represent.

Consider our young adult membership. Over the past four years we’ve seen a young adult community here that has grown from about 35 folks to about 135 folks. There have been moments of tension, as power and involvement have stretched and grown. All good things. But whether it’s obvious to you or not, we do things differently now in some ways than we did even five years ago. And because of these cultural changes, we’ve allowed a young adult community to thrive here in what is otherwise a smaller-sized congregation. Likewise, if you find yourself lamenting why more people of color aren’t in our pews, but you regularly restate, “But this is how we’ve been doing this for 20 years…” you have to be careful. Are you saying it because we’re not properly honoring a tradition? Or is it a way to maintain a sense of control over something when you feel out of control of a changing world? This is a very hard question I ask with no sense of accusation. The world can be a hard place, and our religious community can be a beautiful island amidst the storm. But it can’t be just your or just my island. It has to be one for all the people around us now, and it has to be for all the people who are not yet here. That’s what a community of faith is about. If we can get this right here, in this house of hope, then maybe we can figure out how to get it right out there too. But if we can’t figure it out here, we are not going to figure it out there.

When you encounter feelings that tell you things are unfair, or harsh – use that as an opportunity to foster compassion for others in a similar situation. Don’t use it as a chance to fortify your sense of righteousness. Be present to the difficult feelings. Honor them for the truth they offer. The rage we sometimes feel, or sometimes hide, can be fuel for a very long road. It becomes problematic when we rely on it, or become addicted to it.  And it’s sometimes helpful when we would otherwise succumb to apathy. A faith centered life, is one where we recognize that at our core we are standing in solidarity with life. We are a force for compassion, possibility, and hope in this world. Whatever our career, our central vocation is one. We are all called to respond to the world with care and with a vision for wholeness.