Archive for April, 2016
This sermon was preached at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in Huntington, on 4/24/16. This Passover sermon looks at the part of the story where the Israelites are traveling through the Desert, after being brought out of slavery. What is the role of trust and faith in times of adversity?
It’s good to be back and able to walk around a bit again after a much longer recovery, than my doctor expected, from dual foot surgery. Many thanks to all of you who offered to help, who checked in on me, and who kept me in your thoughts and prayers, and for those who sent lovely cards to my home. What was supposed to be a 3-5 day recovery looks like it’s going to take 3-5 weeks. One specialist jokingly referred to one of my toes as the 1 billion dollar toe for all the lab work that was done to diagnose it. The funny part, is that all the tests were wrong. But thankfully now, I’m on the way to a slow recovery. Please bare with me as I sit through this sermon. Although I can walk, standing for 20 minutes is still difficult.
This is only the second time in my life where I’ve had to be off my feet. This Memorial Day will be the 7 year anniversary of the time I was hit by a car as a pedestrian. In some ways, this time around is worse than even being hit by a car. But I’m grateful for communities of support and trust, as I’m grateful for modern medicine. I know right now that there are many of us who are going through various stages of recovery and surgery; and even more of us who have lived through that in the past. For myself, and maybe this is true for you too, I find these times of adversity and healing to be life-defining – at least as a sort of lens in which we see the world for a time – and maybe that lens never really goes away.
After my first major injury 7 years ago, I kept some of the perspective I gained from it with me. You become more aware of how inaccessible many places in our world are. You become more patient for people who are unable to move quickly. Maybe you learn to move with a little more intention, or maybe attention. I think this time around, I’m learning a bit more about how shared our world and our responsibilities are. Life is often a team sport. Sometimes we like to pretend it’s a solo competition, and that we are competing all on our own singular merits, but I think we’re kidding ourselves when pretend that’s true. In that spirit, a special thanks to Ken Buley-Neumar and Starr Austin for making the past two Sunday’s go so smoothly in my absence.
We’re going into our third night of Passover today, and with all the past few weeks in mind, I can’t help but think about what it must have been like for the People of Israel to wander in the desert for 40 years. After slavery, after struggle, after plagues and famines, and lamb’s blood on mantles, the Jewish people are freed from bondage only to lose heart when they finally come upon the land God promises them. They lose faith that God will deliver, and they cease to believe they can oust the current residents of the land of Canaan. So God curses them to wander the desert for 40 years until the last of the generation that had the crisis of faith die out.
It’s a rough story, and what seems to be an extreme punishment against a people who have been down and out in the worst ways possible – enslaved. It’s natural to want to be critical of God for this curse. But I also think it’s very real. It’s true to life and to most of our stories at one point or another in our days on this earth. We’ve all been there. We each go through impossible travails – some that would make Soap Opera’s blanch for their audacity, but they happen nonetheless to most of us at some point, or even many points, in our lives. For half my recovery, my husband had to be in New Orleans for a Cancer conference for work, only to return home with a 103.5 fever. I’m barely able to walk to care for him, and I wanted to find the proverbial lamb’s blood and ward our doorways from the angel of death – Please No More! But these times in our lives happen – we struggle – we typically get through them as best as anyone ever can. And like the story of Exodus goes, we forget that we were delivered from something horrible, and we can lose faith that we’ll be delivered from the next and possibly the next.
When we were cursed with wandering in the desert for 40 years, it was a curse that made real what we thought would happen because of our lack of faith. You’ll hear me often make a distinction between faith and belief. Belief is a creed or an opinion that we follow. They can proven or disproven. Faith is an orientation toward life – mixed with hope and possibility and choice. Do we enter into the Passover story, painting blood on our mantles to give a sign to the Angel of Death to pass over our homes – the very visible sign of our faith in the power of the angel, and the trust in the promise of Moses? Or do we come to the promised land and have our way barred for our lack of trust in being provided for? We certainly do both at different times in our lives, but holding onto faith is as much a choice we make as holding onto despair in the face of travail. We have to do one. Why so often do we choose the harsher road? Often, when we choose the harsher road, we do so too alone. We give up trust in being provided for, and we cut ties with the communities that would sustain us.
Adversity can lead to hardship and despair, or it can lead to a new creation. We’re closing our month wondering what it mean to be a people of creation. Where we may not have the choice to wish away adversity, we do have the choice to make something new from it. As I reflect on the meaning of Passover at a time when I’m tentatively starting to walk again, I’m reminded of the words of the beloved popular theologian, Prince, may he rest in peace, when he said, “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.” The words are even more poignant with his passing, and so many of his lyrics seem to pop out of the albums and speak to many of us who are mourning his tragic death at the young age of 57. But that phrase is a theological as it is cultural. We are gathered here… To get through. We do this together; we rely on one another; we ease each other’s struggle. We do that best, when we start from a place of trust – and rally against the urge to distrust or assume the worst – in each other or what’s before us. Trust. One of the oldest stories in scripture shows the power of trust, and what’s at stake when we abandon it. We delay the promised land; we forestall a new creation; without trust we wander in the desert till a new generation can find faith in one another, faith in God, faith in life once more – faith enough to live fully again. The story of exodus tells us that God curses the people for their lack of faith after being delivered so far; but I think we curse ourselves again and again for the same reason.
In our story earlier we learned more about the time after the people of Israel had escaped slavery, but before they had yet found a new place to settle down. This is the time before that curse is laid upon then. They’re on their way to the Promised Land, and recently escaped from Pharaoh. Moses directs, “Don’t save anything; only take enough for today and use it all up; you will be provided for again in the morning. Trust the one who has made this covenant with you.” Daily living in the curriculum for God’s message of trust. All will be provided for, so don’t squander it and don’t horde it. Use what will be revealed before you. It will be enough, regardless of how rough the road ahead is – it will be enough.
Accepting that what we need will ultimately be provided as we need it, is an act of faith. One that scripture tells us is true. Do we believe that? Or if we do believe it, do we still feel that way all the time? We may still have to do the work of gathering, and preparing and cooking, but Scripture tells us the food will come. I want to say that that doesn’t always feel true for everyone. Hunger and poverty are all too common in the world. But yet, this story stays real across the millennia and speaks to community after community that have found deliverance from slavery and subjugation. And maybe as importantly – it offers a proscription. Don’t save anything, only take enough for today.” It’s an edict from God laid down to prove a point, and to teach a people to trust in God. That’s the primary reason for the edict. But it’s also an ethical teaching. It’s as if God is saying, “as you prepare to build a new creation, of a new people in a new land, do so without hoarding.” Greed, at its core, is a sin that’s based in distrust. Greed teaches us to never be satisfied but it also teaches us that we won’t be whole without more. Greed teaches us that enough for today is not really enough. We forget to trust when we are consumed by greed. Community is not built well upon a foundation of greed, or a foundation of distrust. There’s a way in which curse or no curse, the new creation in a new land for the Jewish people, would not be possible until they learned to move in a spirit of trust. And that deep truth remains real and present for us today.
But before we close our sermon this morning, there’s an important distinction to be made about trusting that all will be provided for – assuming we do our fair share in the gathering, and preparing, and so forth. There was a point in the story where the people railed against Moses and wanted to return to the slave pits of Egypt. The food – the mana that fell from heaven – didn’t taste like the food they were accosted to in slavery and they missed their Egyptian food. Some wanted to return to slavery rather than learn a new way in a new land. We can be so adverse to change that we will hope to be returned to bondage rather than struggle through the new. 2500 years later and that message still holds truth and power – right?
Sometimes we can’t see that all is provided for, because we don’t like how it’s being provided, or we don’t want what’s been given. One of my mentors, the Rev. Dr. Forrest Church, of our large church in NYC, now deceased, used to say, “Want what you have.” It was a simple message that I’ve never forgotten, and it speaks to this human failing of ours. When we can’t accept the things that are before us that are nonetheless sustaining us, we have forgotten to want what have. The dance between trust and greed spins on this teaching. When we’re on the road to the Promised Land, and we’re striving to build a new creation in our lives and in our community, it’s as important to move away from what is harmful as it is to learn to embrace what is before us, with faith, with trust and to do so together.
This sermon explores the spiritual discipline of our third principle: how does acceptance lead to spiritual growth? What does it demand of us? It was preached at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in Huntington, on 4/3/16.
I remember the first time I ever visited the big public park in Brooklyn, called Prospect Park. I came across a map on one of it’s little boards. It mentioned there was a dog beach! I thought -wow! I didn’t think the water line came this close to the park. Growing up in Jersey, I imagined a shore line with dogs frolicking as far as the eye can see. Owners alternating between feeling joy for the playfulness of their pups and stressing over the more powerful waves around their little NYC apartment canines. I knew of some beaches that allowed dogs, but I didn’t think it’d be possible in a city of this density.
I guess with April Fools’ Day just past us, this memory came back to mind. Well, apparently it wasn’t possible. In case you’re not familiar with Prospect Park, it’s roughly about nine avenues from river. In reality, the dog beach is one fenced off stretch of water connecting into a larger inland lake. In the early mornings when the leash law is waved, hundreds of dogs do frolic in it, but the only waves that occur are what they generate chasing balls, ducks and each other. In afternoons, it’s usually only two or three dogs at a time who are tethered to their owners.
That park aside, wherever I go this is true. You can see it at Coindre Hall right next door. I find it fascinating how all the dogs I encounter have completely different personalities. Some are very stand-offish, distant from other dogs while maintaining a “just try it” look on their faces, that may or may not just happen to resonate with their human on the other end of the leash. Others come across as playfully stupid. Eager to please, grab attention. They’re the ones that run up to each new dog to say, “hey! Where ya been?” Even though they’ve likely never met.
I’ve started to notice my own reactions to these different doggie attitudes. I pay way more attention to the cute, friendly, lovable dogs, than I do to the ones that maintain their distance. They make me feel better; and I imagine they are probably a bit happier than their counterparts. I used to just think of them as slightly dumb creatures who showed interest and care for anyone around them. Lacking in discernment, they gave their acceptance and love freely. Being a dog owner (coughparentcough) has changed me.
I’m starting to think they’re the smart ones and I’m the one that needs to catch up. They’re happier; I’m happier. The mind at the end of the leash might be a bit concerned that their pet is overly social and willing to run away with anyone to the circus (and that line is actually a quote, from a former fearful neighbor, who was worried I was going to run away with her two hot dogs.) I’m amazed to report that even the Coindre Hall duck population shows no concern or fear from the friendly dog types. They might be convinced to slowly wade away from their intensity, but there’s no flapping away to safety from the gregarious ones. They only flee the stone-cold ones.
I wonder what it would be like at coffee hour if we were all a bit more like the carefree, floppy-eared mutts, than the strong but distant barkers and yippers. It might be tough on the introverts among us from to time. I imagine overall though, it would feel pretty good.
I’ve tested this theory out, when I’ve been out and about, at coffee shops, beaches and the occasional night out with friends. I’ve learned something amazing. Generally speaking, when I show others I’m interested in getting to know them; that I’m outwardly friendly; and that I accept them for who they are – they mimic my behavior! By channeling the wisdom of floppy-eared dogs everywhere, I have found friendly people in places where only unfriendly people once dwelled! I wonder where they all came from…
There’s a short poem, by Tom Hennen, called The Life of a Day, that I’d like to share with you:
The Life of a Day
Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it
5 would be surprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are wildly nice, like autumn ones full of red maple trees and hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly
10 awful ones in a winter blizzard that kills the lost traveler and bunches of cattle. For some reason we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don’t want to reach our last one for a long time. We examine each day before us with
15 barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by per-fectly well-adjusted, as some days are, with the
20 right amounts of sunlight and shade, and a light breeze scented with a perfume made from the mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the faint odor of last night’s meander-ing skunk.
I believe we do the same sort of waiting with people (and possibly dogs.) …“We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives will start for real.” Ever waiting, we give away our lives in the hope that one will some day show up. And the truth is: it’s already here – and it’s pretty wonderful; even when it’s pretty awful. And there will always be those days. But so long as we have breath to breathe, we have a precious gift to unwrap and experience. “For some reasons, we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don’t want to reach our last one for a long time.”
The same is true for each person we encounter; even when they’re pretty awful. We can choose to interact with abandon or reserve, but we ought not be surprised when we receive only what we give. We can not control how others act. But we can control how open we are, and how committed to engage we will be.
That’s the religious discipline inherent to our third principle. We covenant to affirm and promote acceptance of one another and encourage spiritual growth in our congregations. It’s phrased as an action statement – not a creedal belief. We aren’t saying we believe in acceptance in growth, although many of us may in fact believe so. We are saying that we will commit to promote acceptance and spiritual growth with each other and in our religious homes.
I say it’s a religious discipline because it’s hard work, and something our religion demands of us. It also happens to be something we ask of each other as congregants. The promise of this discipline is saving. I don’t mean to say that it’s saving in the sense of some afterlife that will happen at some indeterminate point in the future. I mean to say that it’s saving right here, right now. Without the conviction of this discipline, we are only promised a life of isolation and stagnation. With it, we enjoy the promise of a deeper connection with the life around us. The main demand is to channel a little bit of that carefree mutt in each of us; to let go of the clutch and grab of judgment we so often employ against ourselves and others. To move through base tolerance of others who we may or may not resonate with, and to learn to accept them for who they are. To let go of that clutch and grab requires a discipline for most of us. Our third principle offers the promise of connection, but demands that we allow ourselves to allow others in.
I want to share another story about walking through a park. I once came across a story that matches this discipline. This time it’s about little kids, not dogs. I saw a gathering of yellow shirted summer camp first and second graders. The camp advisor was doing a call and response with the kids as they were marching in a line to their next destination. “One day I heard a bird singing … it had a great thing to say to me…”. It got punctuated by the advisor calling out after one girl who was lagging behind. “Anna, come on over. Stay with us.” This went back and forth for about 30 seconds, before the counselor invoked the terrifying “count to five.” I remember the horror of that teacher threat back in grade school. “One, two, three…” and then Anna came running. She got back to the group, and all was forgiven, they continued their march in the warm, fun summer sun.
I’ve often hear it said that as Unitarian Universalists, we accept all people, but not all behaviors. Try not to dwell in your minds too long on the metaphor of a single line marching anywhere — that will likely never be a true descriptor for Unitarian Universalists anywhere. Think more about how that counselor let the annoyance of the last 30 seconds go. She accepted the situation within clearly defined boundaries, and then allowed herself and Anna to reconnect and move on. Sometimes the affronts in our daily lives will seem more severe; but I’m convinced that the vast majority of those affronts are simply the dressed up equivalent of – Anna’s lingering a bit too long – when the rest of the group needed to move on. In the clutch and grab, we force ourselves to tolerate bad behavior, but never loosen our grip on the offense or the frustration. If the counselor had held onto the bad behavior of the little girl, she would have had a much worse afternoon and probably ruined it for the kids as well. Instead, she let herself and the children present be free to hear the promise of what great thing that bird singing in the tree had to say to them that day.
If the realm of the spiritual is in accepting and appreciating the lives and world around us, how then can we do this in our congregations? I’ve already mentioned how to do acceptance 101. I call it coffee hour. We’ve got it coming up again shortly right next door. Practice, practice, practice. And accept how your neighbor succeeds or trips up along the way. Because we are all going to do both – succeed and trip up. You get to choose whether you are going to keep bringing up how someone tripped up two years ago, or whether you’re going to choose to get back in line and enjoy the beauty of another day of birds singing.
For those ready to move onto 201, let me invite you to join one of our Journey Groups. If you looking to get to know more people in our congregation; or if you want the opportunity to explore more deeply some of our sermons, themes and justice work; journey groups may be for you, whether you are a newcomer, or long standing member of our congregation. They are lay led groups that each commit to meet once a month for about 90 minutes. They involve a chalice lighting, some poetry or short writing, and a few questions that are intended to start dialogue and reflections around a set topic. These are designed to be places for the heart and the spirit, rather than educational forums. Starr writes the sessions for our facilitators and keeps in mind this third principle when doing so. They’re essentially a monthly structured exercise in acceptance and spiritual growth. Ask Starr or you can email her to sign up. (Do we have any Journey group facilitators present who could raise their hands? You can reach out to them too!)
Graduate Level work in Acceptance may be coming up – community wide next Sunday, as we approach our next congregational meeting and forums. Do we accept the work, and discernment of past congregational decisions, and move forward with respect for difference of opinion? Do we honor the good faith work of our elected Board who works in tandem with nigh countless committees, or do we come to it from a place of distrust? Or do we seek to rehash past discussions as if seasons of thought haven’t gone into the current transparent process? Learning the spiritual balance beam work of acceptance and growth – in tension with one another – is heart-heavy work when it comes to our individual selves, when it comes to a close loved one like a spouse or a parent or a sibling, and it can be just as heart heavy when it comes to communities we know and love – like our own. But it is spiritual work we are called to do.
Do you remember the story about the businessman and the fisherman from our words for all ages a couple of months ago? (retell it quickly) It wove our great unease of days and people together. The start and finish of the tale talks about the forward rush of our lives. Businessman and fisherman are both seeking to enjoy the life and days around them. The fisherman seems to have already found it, while the businessman puts it off for the future. “Well, then you could spend the rest of your life just doing whatever you wanted to do, sitting in the sun, relaxing and enjoying yourself, with no worries…”.
This is an aspect of acceptance that leads toward the second half of our third principle. It’s a marker of spiritual growth to be able to appreciate what you have and where you are when you’re there rather than forever holding off to some point in the future or clinging to some past existence. This can also be true of communities. How fast is fast enough to be perfect? How soon is soon enough to be the Beloved Community we dream of? If we ever got there, would we notice it?
About that story though, I should offer the caveat that not all businesspeople delay their life for some future date, and not all fishermen are so moderate and steady with their fishing habits. I could imagine a tale that offers the same message with the roles reversed. It would involve an entrepreneur who may or may not enjoy what she’s doing, but fully appreciates how it allows her to share time with and support her family or friends. In this story there would be a fisherman that overfished the seas and criticized the entrepreneur for keeping her company so small and not expanding to consume more resources. In either case, one of the people in the story suffers discontent and disconnection with their own lives, and feels the need to project that out onto the life of another.
In learning to accept one another, we inevitably will encounter this last truth. Much of what makes us unsatisfied with others is merely a projection of what we mistakenly believe is lacking in our own lives. The spiritual dimension of growth calls us to a life where we recognize the abundance we have. We may not have abundant wealth, or health, or love, or talent; or may be in a place where we have all or some of these but we lack the abundance of clarity to be able to see what we do have. We may also be in a place of true brokenness. Something deep and flawed has occurred in our selves, or in our lives, or in a loved one. Acceptance is crucial here for growth. Acceptance doesn’t mean learn to live it with without seeking change or healing. Acceptance is the first step in recognizing the place of true brokenness is real for you or your family now. We can’t heal from that which we don’t first name.
Whether you are largely full now, or traveling through a time of brokenness, try to find a place where you recognize that you have enough of an abundance of life keep on keeping on. This is a tough discipline for all, especially for me; but one that has life saving potential. One way to repay that gift is to help others to recognize this truth. Rather than seek to teach it, model it by living into acceptance; every chance we get. Which just so happens to be right now.