April 24, 2005
Faith, Facts, Belief, and Truth
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Karl Hunt and I am the Treasurer of the congregation. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is available downstairs in the nursery,and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the those who need a little extra support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
This morning our minister, Jeff Briere, leads the service and our theme is Facts, Faith, Belief & Truth. Jeff promises to sort out the differences between these words, which are often heard in discussions of religion. To begin our service, Marcia chose a composition by Claude Debussy, The Children’s Corner.
“Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum”
Kindling the Chalice
MINISTER. Passover began Friday evening. This holiday, known as Pesach, is celebrated by Jews in remembrance of their deliverance from slavery in Egypt. At that time, Pharaoh kept the Israelites enslaved. And even though God sent 9 horrible plagues in an attempt to convince Pharaoh to release them, he wouldn’t budge. Then God sent the 10th plague, the worst of all and that convinced Pharaoh to free the Israelites. Now that they were free, God told the Israelites to hurry and get out of town, in case Pharaoh changes his mind.
KARL. Pack nothing. Bring only your determination to serve and your willingness to be free. Don’t wait for the bread to rise. Take nourishment for the journey, but eat standing, be ready to move at a moment’s notice.
MAURINE. Do not hesitate to leave your old ways behind—fear, silence, submission. Only surrender to the need of the time—to love justice and walk humbly with your God.
RICH. Begin quickly, before you have time to sink back into old slavery. Set out in the dark. I will send fire to warm and encourage you. I will be with you in the fire and I will be with you in the cloud.
FRED. I will give you dreams in the desert to guide you safely home to that place you have not yet seen. I am sending you into the wilderness to make a new way and to learn my ways more deeply.
MARY. Some of you will be so changed by weathers and wanderings that even your closest friends will have to learn your features as though for the first time. Some of you will not change at all.
KARL. Some will be abandoned by your dearest loves and misunderstood by those who have known you since birth and feel abandoned by you. Some will find new friendship in unlikely faces, and old friends as faithful and true as the pillar of God’s flame.
MAURINE. Sing songs as you go, and hold close together. You may at times grow confused and lose your way. Touch each other and keep telling the stories. Make maps as you go, remembering the way back from before you were born.
RICH. So you will be only the first of many waves of deliverance on these desert seas.
FRED. It is the first of many beginnings—your Paschaltide.
MARY. Remain true to this mystery.
ALL. Pass on the whole story. Do not go back. I am with you now and I am waiting for you.
“Let It Be a Dance”
The Whole 9 Yards
Good morning, boys and girls. I certainly am glad to see you all here. I am glad that you are all here, and that you remembered this morning to bring along everything that makes you you. I would be very unhappy if you came to church one Sunday morning and forgot to bring along your hair or teeth or eyebrows. That would be terrible, I think. I am very glad to say that most of the time you look like you have brought all of you to church. Using all that you have is very important. You need feet to walk, a mouth to talk, and hands to hold. If you want to play baseball, you need a bat, a ball and a glove. If you want to skate, you need elbow pads and knee pads.
Let me show you what I mean. I’ll bet you have heard someone play the piano. Someone like Marcia Jenison, maybe. Here’s what the piano sounds like when it is played well. Now suppose Marcia only learned to play with her right hand. What do you think that would sound like? Sounds different, doesn't it? Or suppose that she only learned to play with her left hand. That really sounds different. But Marcia learned to play with both hands and so when she plays the piano, it sounds like this. There really is something good about using all parts to make it complete.
Many wise people have said that it’s a good idea to be a whole person. For instance, homework. You know homework, right? I understand that teachers don’t assign too much homework these days, is that right?
You know that to be a good student, you should do your homework. But to be a whole student, you ought to help your friends with their homework, if they need it. Along with your hard work at home, to be a whole student, don’t leave out helping others.
And it’s the same for being a whole person, too. To be a whole person, you need love, hope, and truth. But don’t leave out peace, or doing right. These are the things that make up a whole person. That is like Marcia playing the piano with both hands. Some people forget about being whole, even though they are good people. Maybe they tell the truth but forget about working for peace. Those people are like Marcia playing the piano with one hand. We want whole people just like we want whole pianists. It may take you some time to learn to be a whole person just as it took Marcia a while to learn to play the piano. But we must keep learning all the time.
The next time you hear someone playing the piano, think about being a whole person and think about learning all that you can about life and people and what you can do to make this a better world.
Offertory
“Reverie”
Because the theme of this service involves belief and truth, I bring you a couple of stories about these concepts. I bet you all know Mark Twain. Before he got to be a famous author, he got his start as a reporter.
When he was just starting out, Mark Twain was instructed never to state as fact anything that he could not personally verify. Being a good reporter and a better employee, he followed instructions and turned in this report: A woman giving the name of Mrs. James Jones, who is reported to be one of the society leaders of the city, is said to have given what purported to be a party yesterday for a number of alleged ladies. The hostess claims to be the wife of a reputed attorney.
Any baseball fans here? Do you know Tug McGraw? He was a pitcher for the Mets during the 1973 season. In July, the team was in a tailspin of epic proportion. As he walked onto the field one day, an autograph seeker called out, “What’s wrong with the Mets?” McGraw turned and said, “There’s nothing wrong with the Mets. Ya gotta believe!” The retort quickly became the rallying cry for the team and was eagerly embraced by fans and the press, and that year, the Mets won the National League pennant.
Ya gotta believe that your offering this morning will support the ministry of this church. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your contributions of non–perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
I’m always suspicious when someone says, “You know, I have noticed that there’s two kinds of people in this world. Those who________ and those who don’t.” I always want to ask the person who makes such a statement how they arrived at their conclusion. I want some proof.
I hold a Krystal burger and I ask, “Where’s the beef?” I hear one of those statements and I want to ask, “Where’s the data? Aren’t there more than two camps on this issue?” Of course I never ask those questions because I know the speaker is dabbling in hyperbole for effect.
The reason that I am uneasy with these “divide the world into two camps” statements is that I frequently camp out on both sides of the fence. When people divide over which way they lean on issues, sometimes I don’t lean at all. On some issues I am a big–time fence sitter.
Having said that, you know, I have noticed that there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who can live completely within reality and those who cannot. Those who are perfectly fine with the facts and those who prefer a little fancy in their lives. Those who want proof and those who don’t need it. Those who can handle the truth and those who can’t.
This morning, I will try to sort out the differences between four concepts that we frequently hear in religious discussions: facts, faith, belief and truth. I don’t advocate reliance on one or another of these concepts in all cases. Some people might. Some people might disregard faith and live solely on facts. Others might disregard facts and live on their beliefs.
Some days the truth will set you free. Other days, all you need are just the facts, as Jack Webb said. For me, a little of each is the way to go. A few facts, a little faith, some belief and you arrive at the truth. But when we are convinced about something, when we believe we have found the truth, it’s very easy to rely wholly on it, and disregard faith and belief and inconvenient facts. It’s almost as if we get drunk on the truth, following Mark Twain’s advice. He said, “Too much of anything is bad; but too much whiskey is just enough.”
This sermon was occasioned by a question I received from a congregant. Actually it was more of a complaint. She said, “What’s all this about the truth, anyway?” I have never understood what the truth is. What is the truth?”
The more I hang around with Unitarian Universalists the more arcane questions I get. Although the question may seem innocuous, and perhaps easy to answer, I was stumped. I can’t remember my reply right now, but I apologize for its inadequacy and I hope this sermon better answers the question.
As I thought about the truth, I ran across other concepts, like facts, true facts and real facts; and belief, faith, credence and reality and so forth and so on. It seemed, especially with the word faith, that all these concepts revolved around religious notions, so rather than preach about the truth, I decided to preach about a way to find the truth. And like I said, I think it takes—at least for me—it takes a few facts, a little belief and some faith to find the truth.
Now that sentence carries a disclaimer. I said, “at least for me.” That indicates that there may be more than one truth about an issue. Unlike some of my colleagues who preach the inerrant truth for all time and forevermore, I preach my own truth, the truth I found.
The essence of liberal religion is that it poses no one–size– fits–all truth. Liberal religion is constantly evolving, looking for truth in all the corners of human existence; finding truth one day and coming up empty–handed the next. For Unitarian Universalists, revelation is not sealed. So today, we won’t find one whole and entire complete truth for everyone. The best we can do is suggest a method for finding the truth; a way to go about it. Or at least, we can get organized for the search.
To bluntly answer the question, “What is the truth?” I will say that the truth is something on which you can rely. Actually, it is something on which you do rely. Our new parking lot has cement steps and imbedded in them are steel handrails. When you walk up the steps, you rely on the cement to support your foot and you rely on the handrails for balance. So you might think of the truth as something your brain can rely on for support and balance. The cement steps are strong and safe and make ascent of the hill easier. The truth likewise, is strong and safe and makes certain actions possible.
When you rely on the steps, you can walk up the hill. When you rely on the truth, you can—what? That remains to be seen, for the truth, in all its manifestations, allows you to do something. And what it allows you to do might—or might not—allow me to do the same thing. What’s certain is that what we believe is true is something which we believe to be steadfast, constant and unwavering. Like the cement steps.
Do you recall the railroad ties to the lower parking lot? Several months ago, the railroad ties were in sad shape. They were visibly rotting, riddled with cracks, split in many places and slippery when wet. They have been patched and are in good shape now, thanks to an angel in the church.
Now suppose one of these youngsters and I were walking down those steps. We are both relying on the steps to support us. But for me, I am a bit more cautious that her. I am wary because I have fallen before and I know my bones are not made of rubber like her’s are. I think the truth is like walking down those railroad ties. It’s different for different people.
Unfortunately, the word truth has acquired an aura of universality in our culture. We want to find “the truth of the matter.” We swear to “tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” We often speak about the truth as if it were singular, indivisible and beyond reproach; as if it could not be challenged, because if something is true, then it must be accepted by one and all.
When we use the word this way, what we’re really talking about are facts. Facts are supposed to represent reality. And who can challenge reality?
Was a time that facts referred to real events, real happenings, real things. Facts were information about an actual occurrence, one having demonstrable existence.
Not now. Now facts can be manipulated thanks to Louis Daguerre and Alexander Graham Bell. Ever since we devised the ability to record reality with photographs, audio tape, videotape or answering machines, and ever since the advent of public relations, we have had real facts, true facts and factoids. And lately, a new menace has infected our culture. I mean spin, the evil spawn of factoids.
Facts will never let you down. One day the cement steps will crumble and the handrails will come loose, and you may be forced to look for another truth, but facts are incontrovertible, undeniable, immutable and they don’t ever change, either.
It’s a fact that this pulpit is made of wood. Not only today, but next week as well. If it doesn’t disappear tomorrow, you can bring your neighbor in on Tuesday and prove that the pulpit is made of wood. Just show it to him. Take out your pocket knife and slice off a chunk. He’ll see it’s not plastic. This pulpit is always made of wood. It’s a fact. You can bet on it. Take it to the bank.
Now is it a fact that I just pounded on the pulpit? It happened. Won’t happen again. I am not gonna pound the pulpit on Tuesday when you arrive with your neighbor. How can you convince him of the fact that Jeff Briere pounded the pulpit today?
You can testify that you saw and heard me pound the pulpit. Your neighbor could ask me and I’d swear that I pounded the pulpit. You could have made a videotape of it. But people have been known to lie and we all know that videotapes can be made to show Daffy Duck walking on the moon.
You could rely on science to prove your contention that I pounded the pulpit. You could have my hand examined for minute splinters that match the wood from the pulpit. You could examine the surface of the pulpit with an electron microscope and find the place where the pulpit is ever so slightly dented from the blow of my fist. You could recover my DNA from the surface. In this way you could produce evidence of my impassioned preaching.
And given the evidence, and knowing that you and I are not liars and that the future of the world will not be affected by this little demonstration, your neighbor might say, “OK. I’m convinced that Jeff pounded the pulpit. I believe you.” Belief is knowledge acquired without personal experience.
Now suppose your neighbor is blind. Has been since birth. He cannot see your evidence and has no experience with an electron microscope nor a videotape. And you and he hardly know each other. Might as well be living on two different planets. Matter of fact, he can’t tell if you are a real person or a recorded voice. It’s unlikely that he would accept your contention that I pounded the pulpit purely on account of the evidence.
Now, if you ardently make your case, he might be persuaded to believe you regardless of the evidence. He might accept the whole story with no evidence—just on your say–so. If he did that, he would display a strong faith in your veracity. Without even hearing the evidence, his faith would permit him to believe that you are recounting the scene as it happened. He would have to trust that you are not lying, that I am not lying and that science is not lying. Faith requires a ton of trust. Faith is belief acquired without evidence.
Now instead of an event which has little meaning, like me pounding the pulpit, let’s substitute an event with some significance. Let’s talk about what happens after we die. Let’s apply these words to religious matters. You knew I’d get around to religion, didn’t you?
I think the central question in this regard is, “What do we want to be true? What do we want to rely on?”
Do you want to rely on facts? Most of the time I do. Facts don’t let me down. Reliable. You can’t go wrong if you have the facts. You can trust the facts, yessiree.
I have discovered, though, that a diet of straight facts all the time, day in and day out is akin to eating pelletized pizza. You know, those little pellets of food that astronauts eat. Sort of like C-rats or MRE’s on steroids. [A little GI jargon there for those of us who served in the armed forces.]
Eating pelletized pizza is great—you get all the nutrients and flavor of Domino’s in a little tiny pellet about the size of your thumbnail. Real convenient. Storage is no problem. Keeps for years in your bathroom medicine chest.
Only problem is, on a diet of straight facts you get to feeling something is missing. Just like eating pizza in a pellet, you wanna say, “Where’s the beef? Where’s the tomato sauce? And where’s the Chianti?”
A diet of 100% straight facts may be nutritious, but it has very little of what makes living fun. All the facts all the time would not give us much hope or courage. All the facts in the world don’t make us bound out of bed in the morning, expecting a great day. And I think that’s what keeps us living. The potential of a great day.
On the other hand, relying entirely on your faith is incredibly naïve. It would be like eating Domino’s pepperoni pizza and nothing else. After awhile you’d lose your taste for asparagus. Relying entirely on faith would disconnect you from reality.
I am reminded of the story about the rabbi and the flood. I told this story a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember it? Rabbi Hirschorn is writing his sermon and the flood waters are about to carry his house away. He refuses help three times, stating that God has always rescued him in times of trouble. Well, sure enough, he drowns. A few minute later, when he meets his maker, he discovers it was God who sent the car and the boat and the helicopter to rescue him. Faith has to face up to facts.
I cannot understand how someone can live on faith alone. I read stories of parents whose faith is so strong they won’t allow a life– saving operation for their child because they believe a divine power will save the child. I want to say the divine power is in the hands of the surgeons. I have a colleague who is a Christian Scientist. We were talking about end–of–life issues and palliative care for terminally ill patients. And she said, “Well, we always have the expectation that we will recover.” I just don’t understand.
Something else I just cannot understand are people who live on facts alone. Coldly rational, overly–realistic people who cannot imagine anything beyond what they touch, smell, hear, see or taste. Charter members of the flat–earth society, unable to accept that something might be around the next bend. I want to quote Shakespeare to such people: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Actually, I believe that there are more things in heaven and earth that are dreamt of in any philosophy, and that’s my excuse for dreaming. Facts must allow room for faith.
Perhaps you can see where your fence–sitting minister is going with all this. As I float merrily down the stream of life, I will not jettison my nautical charts, I will heed the advice of river pilots and I will not ignore the fact that there is a waterfall ahead. But as I float merrily down the stream of life I will not steer my boat strictly down the middle of the channel. I want to explore the bays and rivers and maybe even run aground on a quiet beach to camp out.
We ignore facts at our peril. In order to live in safety and be productive in this world we must bring our beliefs into conformity with the facts of existence. Likewise, our spirits would fade without faith. In order to live happily, we indulge our fancy. A world devoid of fanciful creations, a world without art and drama and sculpture and yes, a world without religion is not a world in which I want to live.
Fact and Fancy must co-exist. Supermarket tabloids and those looking for sensationalism often pit religion and science against each other, like two drunken desperados at high noon on Main Street, each one itching for a gunfight. Who will blink first? Science knows too much about the universe to go backwards. Religion has too much to lose and cannot admit error. Who’s gonna back down?
I think that image presents a false dichotomy. Fact and Fancy are not out to destroy each other. I believe science and religion are not in a zero–sum game, where one must lose and the other must win. I prefer to think of science knocking back a shot of whiskey and religion puffing on a big cigar while they chat in the saloon.
That’s where I find the truth. In a balance between fact and fancy. In conversation.
And to that end, I invite you to converse about the issues we raised this morning. If you have something to contribute to this sermon, please come forward, and tell us about the truth as you know it.
Announcements
Please check out the insert in your order of service. You’ll find information there about the life of the church.
We thank you very much for your participation in the current fund–raising canvass. It’s not quite over. If you haven’t yet enjoyed a visit from the canvass team, please welcome your canvasser when he or she calls you. Canvassers, if you have not turned in your pledge cards yet, please do so right away. And lastly, please remember to fulfill your pledge for the current fiscal year, which ends on June 30th. The Board of Trustees is pinching every penny it has, but we need to have all the pennies you pledged.
We’d like to thank Helen and Ray Solomon, Rose Ann Copeland, Peggy & Lee Solomon, Daidee Springer, Lee Adler, Steve Smith, Paul Adler, George Helton, Robin Vasa, Mary Hunter and all the others who helped with the Seder Supper Friday night. I hope I didn’t leave anyone out. It was a delicious meal and a good time. We hope you can attend next year.
We have several announcements about upcoming events that need to mentioned here because of timing. Next Sunday is our Flower Communion. This is a ritual begun in Czechoslovakia by the Unitarian minister Norbert Čapek. We ask you to bring to church a small bouquet of flowers, something simple, perhaps from your yard. When the service is finished, you can take home with you flowers that another person brought.
Kate Briere is Acting Out. She’d like you to join her for a series of scene studies in dramatic literature. This is sorta like a book club discussion, only with live action. No dramatic training or special skills required—Kate will tell you all you need to know. The sessions are scheduled at 7 pm for three Mondays in May— the 9th, the 16th & the 23rd. This might lead to something bigger. Ask Kate for more information.
And as we have mentioned the Book Club, they have an invitation for you. The Book Club invites everyone to join them for an evening of theatre on May 12th at the Chattanooga Theatre Centre. The play is A Lesson Before Dying based on the book by Earnest Gaines. Curtain is 7 pm and plans are afoot to get together after the show. Call the Box Office 423/267-8534 to reserve your tickets. And you can ask Kate Briere for more information.
May 15th is the Question Box Service. The service will be a chance for you to ask me questions about anything that puzzles you. Religious questions, political questions, where I get sermon ideas, deep theological questions—whatever it is that you’d like me to address. The success of this service depends on your participation, and I really encourage you to ask good questions. I cannot promise to answer all questions in the service, but I will provide a personal answer for all that are signed. I won’t mention the questioner’s name in the service. The artfully decorated shoe box on the round table is for you to drop questions in. The artfully decorated shoe box will be taken up on May 8th, so you have a couple weeks to think of a question.
Also in May, I will offer a three–session course called the New UU. This class is designed for new members but anyone wanting more information about Unitarian Universalism is welcome to attend. We’ll cover Unitarian history, Universalist history, the history of this church and your own religious journey. It’s scheduled for three successive Tuesdays—the 3rd, the 10th & the 17th at 7 pm.
Please send your announcements to the church office by Friday for inclusion in the Sunday service.
To conclude our service, Marcia chose a popular piece by the Spanish composer, Issac Albeniz. This is Malagueña.
“Malagueña”
Link to this Service
April 17, 2005
Going Green
“The Harp at Nature’s Advent”
WELCOME
PRELUDE
Aaron Copland: “Down a Country Lane”
IF THE EARTH WERE SMALL
If the Earth were only a
few feet in diameter, floating a
few feet above a field somewhere, people
would come from everywhere to marvel at it. People
would walk around it marveling at its big pools of water,
its little pools, and the water flowing between the pools, Peo-
ple would marvel at the bumps on it, and the holes in it and the dif-
ferent areas on it. And they would marvel at the very thin layer of gas
surrounding it and at the water suspended in the gas. People would mar-
vel at all the creatures walking around the surface of the ball, and at the
creatures in the water and at the green vegetation growing on the surface.
The people would declare it as sacred, because it was the only one, and
They would protect it so that it would not be hurt. The ball would be
the greatest wonder known, and people would come to pray to it to
be healed, to gain its knowledge, to know its great beauty, and to
defend it with their lives because they would somehow know
that their lives, their own roundness, could be nothing
without it. If the Earth were only a few feet
in diameter. (Olaf Skarsholt, New
Zealand, 1990)
ANTHEM: “For the Beauty of the Earth”
OUR GREEN PATH TO THE FUTURE
Water! Earth! Air! Fire!
Water: nurturer of life, sustainer of growth, basic to every living thing;
Earth: where every seedling takes root; the ground of our being, our home and point of outlook;
Air: in every breath we acknowledge the atmosphere wherein we live; the elixir of our existence;
Fire: thwarter of cold, light against the darkness, symbol of the burning human spirit.
Water! Earth! Air! Fire!
These signify the larger unity of all life and the glory of creation wherein our spirits are embraced.
Good Morning! May I be the first this year to wish you Happy Earth Day! Actually, it’s next Friday, April 22. That date was chosen because it’s John Muir’s birthday. As a wilderness walker all over America, including Tennessee, John Muir ‘s writings led to the creation of national parks such as Yosemite Sequoia, Ranier and the Grand Canyon. He was one of the founders of the Sierra Club in 1892. As he said, “Nature has always something rare to show us.”
This morning we are celebrating! Celebrating that we are here, an anomaly in our solar system, and celebrating the wonderful interdependent system that supports existence and its wonders. We are challenged to sustain it in the interest of people, in the interest of the interdependent whole and in the interest of future generations. Because we are connected to all on Earth and can have negative and positive impact, we bear a special responsibility to assure well-being.
Gary Snyder from the book A Place in Space: Ethics, Aesthetics and Watersheds
"Human beings are but a part of the fabric of life -- dependent on the whole fabric for their existence. As the most highly developed tool-using animal, we must recognize that the unknown evolutionary destinies of other life forms are to be respected, and we must act as gentle steward of the earth's community of being."
We alone among Earth’s species are able to set long term agendas, plan for the future, and take action. In fact, we as a community of faith are taking the first steps to become a UUA Green Sanctuary. On this April day full of new life, we are Going Green! This morning members of the Green Sanctuary Initiative will share with you parts of the Green Action Plan shaped by a participatory process over several months. Each of them wears a green ribbon. In addition to those listed in the order of service, Buck O’Rear and Bill McGuiness are members of the Green Sanctuary Initiative and Fred Tregaskis has served as a Board Representative. The Plan is divided into 5 sections as you see in your order of service. It is a project of the whole congregation so each of you has a part. As you listen this morning and see the presenters, look for where you can make a contribution.
Let’s begin with our young. The young and the young at heart, please come forward.
We are today celebrating our connections to the Earth and the fact that we want to take care of it because it helps all LIFE including the animals, plants and US. Earth is a home and we are all family together. Just as we have to keep our homes clean and take care of each other in our family, we care about the Earth. So what are we going to do?
I have an Earth ball here. If you like you can hold the ball and say something you think we should do to help the Earth. (Several answers were obtained)
Join Recycling Committee at Alexian Village
Recycle.
Recycle cans and bottles.
Do what I can to encourage recycling in the 2 offices I work in as well as at home.
Plant some native trees. (3 people)
Purchase a high mileage car.
Purchase hybrid car.
Try to drive less.
Buy blocks of green power.
Join a green action committee.
Write legislators.
Start a compost pile back.
Buy Energy Star appliances (2 needed within next year or two).
Eat more vegetarian meals. (2 people)
Use organic products in our garden.
Find ways to drive less.
Give away or sell stuff I don’t need—not throw it away. (3 people)
Buy used items.
Buy organic.
Buy locally.
Write a green song.
Convert as many incandescent bulbs as possible to low wattage and fluorescents. [Note: For several months now as our bulbs burn out, we have been replacing them with compact fluorescents. They use 1/5 the energy and emit less heat into the building which helps save on air conditioning too.]
Instead of mailing monthly bulletin, distribute at a service and mail those not picked up. Or e-mail!
Marcia Jenison will compile a green cookbook. Linda Helton says, “I’ll help her.”
Let’s put out more trash cans at potluck so everyone can scrape places and stack them for dishwashing—no paper products.
Donate a trash can divided into plastic/aluminum, etc. for our church and a “public” visible spot (Riverwalk).
∙ Form a study group or lecture series gathering monthly to learn about environmental issues, natural processes, and ways to practice stewardship in everyday life.
∙ Involve the children in environmental activities. Design a menu of Earth-friendly actions for youth to select and accomplish through the year. These might include, for example, trail work, plantings, home actions, hands-on outdoor experiences, recycling, writing a nature poem, creating a computer nature learning game or presentation, making something with natural materials, and others. Provide incentives to motivate their involvement.
∙ Establish regular outdoor workdays on the church grounds connected to learning about the existing biological and ecological processes. Hold regularly-scheduled campus CLEAN-UP, GARDENING days (at least three times a year).
∙ Sponsor an Earth and Spirit Film Festival.
“Simple Gifts”
CANDLES OF COMMUNITY
GOING GREEN FOR WORSHIP & CELEBRATION
Use natural and recycled materials and local artists to create a design for a meditative trail on the church grounds celebrating our spiritual connections to Life on Earth evident in several religions. Seek grant money for design and building.
∙ Produce a booklet filled with writings about our religious heritage as it pertains to stewardship for and connections to the Earth.
∙ Create a “green” ritual or song to use in worship services and conduct an Earth Day service each spring. Ask a member composer to write a “Green Song” for the church.
∙ Participate in a celebration of Earth Day emphasizing the suggestions above and reporting our progress on the Action Plan.
∙ Establish an annual vegetarian dinner named after a UU environmental prophet such as Henry David Thoreau or Rachel Carson. Publicize profusely for community attendance.
From the words of T.S. Eliot:
April is the cruelest month, “mixing memory with desire”…
Breathing into our mortal souls the scent of mulch, the perfume of lilacs,
the brilliant blaze of azaleas.
Wisteria vines drip their lavender blossoms along walls and fences,
dogwoods speckle the greening forest,
tufts of cherry blossoms adorn the lanes with spreading limbs of cotton candy,
And pollen dusts the world with a fine yellow film of fertility.
∙ Take the lead in the Chattanooga Interfaith Power and Light organization to model and promote energy conservation in other churches. Join other churches in environmental activities, or take the lead in doing so.
∙ Provide avenues for church members and others to call for environmental justice in the greater world. Encourage forums, letter writing campaigns and e-mail requests to legislators and other key decision makers.
∙ Investigate two possibilities for the future:
1. Building an herb eco-roof or garden to provide fresh herbs to the local Community Kitchen for the homeless.
2. Becoming a partner in the Glenwood Community Cooperative in order to provide a source of food and supplies for all members while supporting local community small businesses.
∙ Form two small groups (representing up to 16 households) whose members will take actions to establish more Earth-Friendly lifestyles and model for others (Eco-Teams).
∙ Install two low flow toilets or displace water in tanks on upper floor.
∙ Reduce energy usage in the church by 20%
∙ Motivate the church and membership toward purchasing Green Power units and investigate ways in which the church could become a Generation Partner (requires installation of solar panels and/or windmills).
∙ Increase the number of households of the congregation who participate in Green Power Switch® by 50%.
∙ Design a landscaping plan to increase biodiversity and attract wildlife to the grounds along with a plan and schedule to implement the design.
∙ Incorporate more environmentally friendly products and practices into the regular life of the church. Examples: recycling and composting system; purchase of Earth-friendly cleaning products; decrease in use of paper and plastic; use of shade-grown fair trade coffee; occasional all-vegetarian potlucks. Encourage members to use their own shopping bags when grocery shopping. Identify sources and begin church use of environmentally-sound paper and cleaning supplies for office, kitchen and bathrooms.
∙ As a Committee of the Congregation, make a report summarizing Green Sanctuary Initiative actions and results at each annual meeting.
∙ Use the nUUsletter
1. Announce one all-church activity each season
2. Provide a monthly column that suggests an Earth-friendly activity or behavior for daily living.
3. Keep readers updated on Action Plan progress including occasional measurements related to environmental conditions. For example, amount of carbon dioxide saved related to energy reductions in the church.
4. Highlight special people or church committees as actions are taken in support of becoming a Green Sanctuary.
5. Produce a press release or secure a story in the Chattanooga Times Free Press and Chattanoogan.com to announce our Green Sanctuary Action Plan.
6. Produce press releases or secure stories for local press to tell of the individual community and environmental justice portions of the Green Sanctuary Action Plan.
7. Add information to our UUCC webpage and update as needed to report action results.
“We Are Not Our Own”
ANNOUNCEMENTS
BENEDICTION
In time of silver rain
The Earth
Puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of Life,
Of Life,
Of Life!
In time of silver rain
The butterflies
Lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry
And trees put forth
New leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain
When spring
And life,
Are new.
POSTLUDE “For Aaron Copland”
Link to this Service
April 10, 2005
Judaism in 20 Minutes
Audio from Rev. Briere's sermon:
Enter, Rejoice, & Come In
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Margaret Hudson and I serve on the Board of Trustees. Please remember that
- the emergency exit is over here to my right,
child care is available downstairs in the nursery,
and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the those who need a little extra support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
The service today, Judaism In 20 Minutes, is another in our whirlwind tour of world religions. This series of services is not meant to be an exhaustive examination of any religion, but more like a wine tasting, where we get a flavor of another religion. Evelyn Wood had agreed to play piano for us, but today Kate Briere will play in her stead. We all hope Evelyn feels better next week. We begin with the theme from Fiddler on the Roof, a show which brought the culture of Eastern European Jewish life to America.
Jerry Bock: Fiddler on the Roof
Kindling the Chalice
Shabbat Shalom
Hymn 352: Find a Stillness
The Candy Club
MINISTER. I invite the young and the young at heart to join the Candy Club! You know, we are very lucky this morning, because we have been invited to join the Candy Club! You and me and everyone else!
Dolores got the invitation on Friday and she brought it with her this morning. Dolores! Tell everyone what the invitation says!
DOLORES. You Are Hereby Notified That You And All the People in Your Church Are Eligible to Join the Candy Club! Call Our Special Hotline Today and You Can Join Instantly!
The benefits of membership are:
1. All the candy you can eat.
2. All the chocolate you can eat.
3. Free dental check-ups every three months.
The Candy Club has only four rules. The rules are:
1. Only boys are allowed in the Candy Club.
2. Only boys with blond hair are allowed in the Candy Club.
3. Only boys with blond hair over 5 feet tall are allowed in the Candy Club.
4. Only boys with blond hair who are taller than five feet and who don’t wear glasses are allowed in . . . the . . . Candy Club.
MINISTER. Well, that’s a stupid rule! I say throw out all the rules! Everyone can join the candy club!
And it’s just like this in life, too you know. Everyone is in. No one is out. We’re all in this club together.
Jerry Bock: Sunrise, Sunset
A couple weeks ago, Steve Hollingsworth noted that I had been telling short stories with ironic or humorous themes and tying them—somehow—into the support for the church. He wondered if I was setting a precedent.
Perhaps. I do look for stories to introduce the offertory. Stories that somehow illuminate an aspect of human life that allows us to give back to the community. Today, my story does not need to be tied directly into support for the church. So I’ll just leave it out there for you to consider.
There once was a stingy miser, who, as he grew older, became more and more unhappy. He was perplexed by his own misery, and thought to himself, “I have every luxury that money can buy. Yet nothing gives me pleasure any more. How can this be?” And being a faithful Jew, he went to his rabbi, and asked his advice.
The rabbi led him by the hand to the window of his room. “Look out this window. What do you see?” the rabbi asked. “I see people,” the miser replied. Then the rabbi led him to a mirror, and again asked, “What do you see?” The miser replied, “I see myself.”
The rabbi said, “Both the window and the mirror are glass. But the glass in the mirror is covered with silver. And when the silver is added, you cannot see other people. You see only yourself.”
After that, the miser began to see the needs of other people.
We will now collect the morning offering for the support and ministry of the church. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your contributions of non–perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
Judaism In 20 Minutes
When Margaret said this would not be an exhaustive treatment of Judaism, she was correct. As I’ve said before, we can’t do justice to any religion in 20 minutes. This will be more like a wine tasting. First, a little Mogen David and then some Manischewitz.
Judaism is both familiar and exotic, bound up in a culture and spread throughout the world. Judaism is the modern faith that traces its history back to a people who lived in the ancient Near East about 3800 years ago. At the far reaches of that time, history fades into myth and you can read the accounts of it as preserved in the book of Genesis.
But at the other end, today, much of our western philosophy, our culture, our ethics and our world view is rooted in Jewish history and folklore. Christians, Muslims and Jews all claim Abraham as the progenitor of their religions. AS I told the children, we’re all in this club together.
I confess that when I came to the topic of Judaism I was stymied for a key to this religion—something I could exploit in a short time for a sermon.
But then I read an essay on Judaism by Huston Smith. He is the acknowledged authority on world religions and his books remain the standard for scholarship in this area. About Judaism, he wrote,
When the Hebrews finally settled down, the land they chose was unimpressive. Canaan was a postage stamp of a country, about one-eighth the size of Illinois. Even Jewish history amounts to little. It is not dull, but by external standards it is very much like the histories of countless other little peoples. Compared with the histories of the great powers of the time, Jewish history is strictly minor league.If the key to the achievement of the Jews lies neither in their antiquity nor in the proportions of their land and history, where does it lie? What lifted the Jews from obscurity to greatness was their passion for meaning.
Now, there was my way into Judaism. A search for meaning. Sound familiar? It’s the fourth Unitarian Universalist principle and you’ll find it written out on the back of your program.
A passion for meaning. The Jews find meaning in their singular God, a radical concept for its time. Other civilizations in the ancient Near East professed several gods; gods who were vengeful, capricious and amoral. The meaning of God for the Jews was love. Their God looked after widows and orphans. Their God created everything and loved it.
A passion for meaning. Jews find meaning in creation because it is “very good.” Those words, from Genesis, indicate that even when Jews find the going rough or living not worthwhile, they are reminded that their Creator looked at his creation and found it to be “very good.” The words provide a constructive starting point, an affirmation of the goodness of life.
A passion for meaning. Jews find meaning in history because the context in which they live their life has everything to do with its outcome. And if context is important, so is social action. Sometimes the only way to make things right is by concerted effort, by working together.
To work and live together, Jews find meaning in morality. The basis of Jewish ethics is the Ten Commandments, specifically the injunctions against killing, lying, stealing and promiscuous sex.
And for the future of their society, Jews find meaning in justice. Social justice is a pre–requisite of political stability, and the prophets of the Old Testament brought that home to their people. It is the nature of things that injustice will not endure. God has high standards; he will not put up with corruption, exploitation and mediocrity.
And most important, Jews find meaning in suffering, if only vicariously. They call themselves the chosen people, chosen by God to endure and to suffer. But even in the depths of suffering, during the exile in Egypt, during the time of captivity in Babylon, during the Holocaust, the Jews did not give in nor give up. And so their actions are redemptive for the rest of us. And that is their meaning in suffering.
We can use this key, this passion for meaning, to unlock the wine cellar and have a taste of Jewish wine through telling stories. Ask Lee Adler and Daidee Springer about Jewish wine. They will tell you stories. Even I have a story about Jewish wine.
Jews are famous for telling stories, because they are a good way to find the meaning in life. Miriam Glazer collected several Jewish stories into a book, Dancing on the Edge of the World. She writes,
We are passionate about stories. They are traces within us of holiness, of the Divine Image in which we were formed. Through the ages, we told stories to understand our own history, to express our faith and our fears, to grasp the complexities of our religious tradition, to cast light on the mysteries of life. Stories help us to endure hard times. They enable us to share with one another the wisdom we accrue through life’s journey—and the delights and dangers of that journey itself.
Many of the stories that Jews tell are of rabbis. Up to the time of about the year 100 in the common era, rabbis were not much in evidence. The Jews practiced a temple faith, led by chief priests. But when the Romans destroyed their temple in the year 70, Jews increasingly were dispersed throughout the world. And in their diaspora, they turned to their elders, those men who were learned in the Torah, those who would teach, their rabbis.
Rabbis do not always reside at the pinnacle of wisdom. They are human like us, sometime lacking common sense. If you live near the flood plain, you’ll appreciate this story of Rabbi Herschfelder.
Rabbi Herschfelder was carefully crafting his Shabbat sermon, as he always did on Thursday afternoons. It was raining hard outside—so hard, in fact, that flood warnings had been blaring from the radio and television all day. The phone rang, interrupting him.
“Rabbi, are you all right?” It was Rebecca Bender, a congregant. “Is your house flooding? I’m right outside in my car, please join us—we’re driving to higher ground.”
The rabbi smiled. “There’s no need to worry about me, Rebecca. I’m not in danger. I’m working on my Shabbat sermon and if I need God’s help, I know He’ll provide it.”
He hung up the phone, and returned to his work. The water had made the carpet soggy, so Rabbi Herschfelder murmured a prayer, put his legs up and continued to craft his sermon.
An hour later, a knocking on the door interrupted him. Arnie Winnblatt was standing there, an oar in one hand. “Rabbi, Rabbi!” he cried, “the street has turned into a river and the water is rising. I’ve got a canoe outside and you’ve got to come with us.”
Rabbi Herschfelder smiled. “Thanks for thinking of me Arnie. But really, there’s no need for a rescue. God will take care of me. You just take care of your family.” Arnie shrugged and paddled away.
But the rain poured down all the harder, the house filled with water, and Rabbi Herschfelder finally had to climb onto the roof. The house swayed beneath him, and just then, a National Guard helicopter arrived.
Over the deafening rain and swirling propeller, the soldiers yelled at the rabbi. “Come aboard fast! We don’t have much time!”
“Thank you, boys,” yelled the rabbi over the roar of the engines, “but I have loved God all my life, and I know that He won’t fail me now! God will come to my rescue! Go and rescue those who need it!”
The pilot realized the rabbi was determined to stay and flew away.
Still it rained. The rabbi clung to his chimney and prayed. The water rose and rose, until it reached his waist. His chest. His neck. The top of his head. And Rabbi Herschfelder drowned.
Moments later he was face–to–face with his creator. Having just drowned, he was in no mood for small talk, but God was asking the questions.
“Rabbi Herschfelder, my faithful servant! What in my name are you doing here?”
“Funny you should ask,” mumbled the rabbi. “Fool that I am, I put my trust in you to save me from the flood.”
“Rabbi,” said God. “Who do you think sent the car, the boat, and the helicopter?”
We can chuckle at the arrogance and self-assurance of the smug rabbi, but the deeper lesson here is that we must be alert to the ways of God.
And what are the ways of God? They are strange, to be sure. They are found in the Torah, the first five books of the Bible and in the Talmud, the accumulated books of Jewish civil law and traditions and their interpretation by ancient scholars. In studying the Talmud, a rabbi must plow through many contradictory passages in order to arrive at the meaning of scripture as applied in certain situations. It’s not an easy task.
Schlomo, who had been secular all his life, woke up in the middle of the night with a longing to learn the Talmud. The very next morning, he went to Rabbi Fierstein, of his local synagogue.
“Rabbi,” he said to the surprised rabbi, “I would like to learn Talmud.”
“Excellent!” the rabbi responded. “So we begin now. Here’s a question for you: If two men slide down a chimney, and one comes out dirty and one comes out clean, which one washes himself?”
Schlomo was surprised by the naivete of the question. “The dirty one,” he answered immediately, thinking to himself, “This is Talmud?”
But Rabbi Fierstein shook his head. “No, not the dirty one. The two men look at each other and the dirty man thinks he is clean, and the clean man thinks he is dirty. So the clean man washes himself.
“Now, Schlomo, another question. If two men slide down a chimney, and one comes out dirty and one comes out clean, which one washes himself?”
Schlomo smiled and said, “You just told me, rabbi. The man who is clean thinks he is dirty and so he washes himself.
But the rabbi again shook his head. “No,” he said. “If they each look at themselves, the clean man knows he doesn’t have to wash himself, so the dirty man washes.
“Now, a final question,” he continued. “If two men slide down a chimney, and one comes out dirty and one comes out clean, which one washes himself?”
Ah, thought Schlomo, I begin to understand. “Well, Rabbi, it could be the clean man or it could be the dirty man. It depends on your point of view.”
But Rabbi Fierstein, shaking his head, responded, “No. If two men slide down a chimney, how could one man remain clean? They both are dirty, and they both wash themselves.”
Schlomo was entirely baffled. “Rabbi, I came to you in all sincerity to learn Talmud. Is this some kind of a joke?”
Rabbi Fierstein shook his head and sighed. “No. This is not some kind of a joke. This is Talmud.”
Confusing. Contradictory. This is Talmud. This also is life. No one answer completely answers every question. So we must have guidance, yes, but we must also think for ourselves.
Sometimes, life is confusing. But we must not be confused about our identity. If you are Jewish, you know that cultivating your personal Jewish identity is important. Very important.
Lying on his deathbed, Rabbi Zusia was surrounded by his devoted disciples. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and a look of great anguish flickered on his face.
“Rabbi, what is the matter?” his disciples cried.
“I dreamed that I came before the Almighty,” Zusia replied, in a stricken voice. “The Holy One did not say to me, ‘Zusia! Why were you not Moses?’ And he did not say to me, ‘Zusia! Why were you not Jacob?’ And he did not say to me, ‘Why were you not the prophet Isaiah?’”
Rabbi Zusia looked into the eyes of his disciples. “What the Almighty said was, ‘Zusia! Why were you not Zusia?’”
Identity is important, but life is also important. For Jews, human life should be hallowed. It is a gift of God and should be revered. Even in misery and despair, the mere fact of being alive is a transcendent experience. Human life is even better than paradise.
After Adam and Eve were exiled from the Garden of Eden, they lived together tilling the earth, raising children, struggling to stay alive. After years of struggle, when their children were grown and moved away, they got a letter from God.
Adam read it aloud. “Dear Adam and Eve, You have lived in exile many years. Your punishment is complete. You may now return to the Garden.”
Eve was non–plussed. “That’s it? Didn’t he even ask about the children or how we liked retirement?” It was typical of God to get right to the point.
Adam sat down and composed a reply. “Dear God, You know, it has been a long time. Remind us, please—what is it like in the Garden?”
Even before Adam mailed the letter, God had written back. “The Garden is paradise! In the Garden there is no labor. No struggling to pay your bills. No lawns to mow. Always 75 degrees. 127 channels. No pain, no suffering. No death. Life goes on forever.”
Adam and Eve thought it over. No work, no struggle, no pain, no death. An endless life of perpetual ease. Room service. They thought about it.
And then Adam turned and looked at Eve. He looked at the woman with whom he struggled to make a life, the woman with whom he took wheat from the earth, the woman with whom he raised children. Eve looked at Adam, with whom she built a home. All the tragedies they had overcome and the joys they cherished passed before her eyes.
Adam sat down once more and wrote his reply to God.
“You know, God, we’re glad you thought of us, but we decided we like it here. Thanks again for all you’ve done for us.”
Jews believe that life is good. Life is both sweet and painful, but overall, it is good and worthwhile and should be hallowed.
I have one more story for you that ties together the two most important threads that make up the fabric of Jewish life. One is the knowledge of your own family history and how your personal story is woven into that tapestry and into the larger tapestry of Jewish history. The other is a profound respect for freedom from oppression. Fueled by the story of the Exodus, the Babylonian captivity and the Holocaust, personal and religious freedom play a central role in Jewish culture.
LINDA. On a cold December day in 1889, during the festival of Hanukkah, in a small village in Lithuania, Rachel Reva Hassel wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. She carried a large bag filled with potatoes and onions home from the market. A faint smile crept on her lips as she thought about the potato latkes she would make later in the day. Hanukkah was one of her favorite times of year.
Suddenly the clippity, clippity, clippity of a fleet–footed horse could be heard from a distance, a different hoof beat than that of the slow workhorses from her village. Swifter, lighter, the sound grew louder and closer. Soon Rachel Reva spotted the Cossack soldier on horseback, the shiny buttons on his uniform glistening in the wintry sun. Her eyes filled with terror as he leaned over his horse in full stride and scooped up a small boy wearing a long black coat and a flat cap. A child just walking home from school. The little boy flailed his arms and legs, struggling and screaming, as his desperate mother ran after the horse pleading, “Stop! Stop!”
Rachel Reva put down her heavy load and ran to comfort the hysterical mother. They both knew the boy would be taken to a non-Jewish family until he was old enough to serve in the Czar’s army. Rachel Reva had witnessed the kidnaping of the little Jewish boys many times. They were rarely ever seen again.
On her way home, she tried to convince herself that her own sons were safe, that they were street-smart, good runners. “Our family has always been blessed,” she murmured to herself. “These things happen only to others.” Still, the horse had come so close to her that she could feel the dust he kicked up in her face, and the screams and tears had pierced her heart.
She arrived home and began to peel and grate potatoes for latkes. In the evening they lit the shamas and the first candle of the menorah in the window, and sang the blessings. The children sat down on the floor to play dreidel. In the soft light she heard the dreaded hoof beats she had heard too many times before. They were coming closer and closer. Her family fell silent. Heavy boots crunched the snow. Rachel Reva stood up. Her breath stopped. A loud, insistent knock on her neighbor’s door.
A heart-piercing scream, shuffling feet, and the trotting of horses into the distance. The Cossack had grabbed young Yankele Bernstein. Rachel Reva’s children searched their parents’ eyes for comfort. “The Cossacks won’t come back,” she told them. “The army is full now and God has blessed this family with more luck than most.” But it was hard even for her to believe those words.
That night she lay awake in bed. The sounds of the latest scream etched in her memory did not disappear so quickly. At daybreak, she arose, went to the market, and bought a piece of heavy brown fabric. All afternoon she sewed curtains for the windows. Knowing that her family had to light the Hanukkah candles, she convinced herself that at least the curtains would keep the candlelight in the house, hidden from the street.
That night, Rachel Reva lit the menorah with her family. The light stayed inside the house and the family felt safe. The children sat down to a quick game of dreidel before dinner while she went into the kitchen to check on the latkes.
Clippity, clippity, clippity . . . the hoof beats came closer. Clippity, clippity, clippity . . . the hoof beats stopped. The crunch of boots on snow. And then the terrible knock on the Hassel family door.
Rachel Reva did not cower or bow her head. She breathed in the light from those candles and it made her feel as though she stood six feet tall. She opened the door. The Cossack stood there before her. Rachel Reva looked right into his eyes.
“We’ve been expecting you,” she said. “Don’t just stand there, dinner is ready. The food will get cold.” The Cossack felt the hunger rise in his belly. He stepped inside wordlessly, took off his coat, lay his bayonet next to the door, and sat down to eat at Rachel Reva’s table.
Rachel Reva stacked a plateful of latkes in front of him. He stared at the glowing faces of the family one by one. “Eat, children, eat!” insisted Rachel Reva.
The Cossack ate and sipped tea and ate and sipped more tea. When his plate was empty, Rachel Reva piled on more latkes and demanded that he eat again. Not until he couldn’t lift his fork for another bite did she stop. When he finally rose from the table, he grinned broadly, patted his full belly, put his coat back on, and picked up his bayonet. The bayonet was all he took with him when he left.
The two Hassel boys grew up to be tailors like their papa and the two daughters emigrated to America. The youngest, Ida, became my grandmother. She never forgot that Hanukkah in the village and the courage of her mother, Rachel Reva. Ida passed on the story—and Rachel Reva’s recipe for latke—to her daughter, who was my mother, who passed them both on to me.
If you read the words of this song that we’re about to sing, you might think the farmer is a cold–hearted son–of–a–gun. His words certainly do not give comfort to the calf. The lesson you might take from this song is “Don’t be a calf.” Don’t let people persecute you. That’s fine, but the deeper message is that in everyone—Jew and Gentile alike—in everyone is a desire to fly, to be free. We are not calves. We are people, Jews would say, created by God in his divine image. As people, therefore, we have the power and the right to be free. And we must be free.
Dona, Dona, Dona
Announcements
Please check out the insert in your program. It contains a lot of information about church life.
Dolores Wood, our religious education director wishes to clarify her message. It seems that some parents have misunderstood and thought that children must be picked up 15 minutes after the service ended. In truth, what Dolores meant to communicate is that the children will not be through before 12:15. Parents should look for their children outside; if the weather allows they’ll be having a snack there.
This morning we have experienced a little of Jewish life and culture through stories. There are of course, thousands of details that we could not cover. On our journey through world religions, we often don’t have time for the details.
Rabbi Judah said, “When you go on a long journey, you need money to cover your expenses. But you do not take hundreds of copper coins, as these would weigh you down. Instead you take a few gold and silver coins, and change them for copper coins as you require.
“We are easily burdened by unrelated facts and precepts. So if you wish to learn about God, do not begin with the details. Begin with the general principles; then you can learn the details easily as you require.”
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho [Trad.]
Link to this Service
April 03, 2005
God Gave Me My Money
Audio from Rev. Briere's sermon:
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Sonja Helmholtz and I am the Secretary for the Board of Trustees. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is available downstairs in the nursery, and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the use of those people who need a little extra support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
Today our service concerns a topic that may be sensitive for some of us. Money. But our minister, Jeff Briere, promises that he will not allow anyone to feel guilty about money. So we can all relax now. For a prelude, Linda chose a piece that she thought had a good message for us to hear. The words are in your program. Linda, would you please begin our service?
Turk & Ahlert: I’ll Get by (As Long As I Have You)
Kindling the Chalice
When I lived in Fremont, New York, a suburb of Syracuse, my house was on a small hill, but it was tall enough to see the sunset. Most of the area around Syracuse is hilly, and the gray sky of that part of New York is legendary. So it was not often that we could see the sun. But I was lucky enough to see it set every day, for as it sunk below those ominous gray overhanging clouds, before it dipped below the horizon, for just a few minutes it was so bright that I had to shade my eyes. I remember that light. To accompany our chalice lighting, I have these words of Henry David Thoreau:
We had a remarkable sunset one day last week. I was walking in a meadow, the source of a small brook, when the sun at last, just before setting, after a cold gray day, reached a clear stratum in the horizon, and the softest brightest sunlight fell on the dry grass and on the stems of the trees in the opposite horizon and on the leaves of the shrub oaks on the hill–side, while our shadows stretched long over the meadow eastward, as if we were the only motes in its beams.It was such a light as we could not have imagined a moment before, and the air also was so warm and serene that nothing was wanting to make a paradise of that meadow. When we reflected that this was not a solitary phenomenon, never to happen again, but that it would happen forever and ever an infinite number of evenings, and cheer and reassure the latest child that walked there, it was more glorious still.
Priorities
I invite the young and the young at heart up here to learn about value and priorities. How is everyone this morning? (response) I’m going to show you a few things this morning and I want you to tell me how much they are worth.
MARBLE The first thing I have is this. What is this? (marble)
What kind of marble is it?
Is it a gold marble? (no)
Is it a silver marble? (no)
What kind of marble is it? (it’s just a marble)
It’s a plain old marble. What is it worth? (response)
Why is it worth just a few pennies? (response)
BOOK The next thing I have is this. What is this? (response)
What does it do? (response) What is it worth? (response)
Why is it worth that? (response)
MONEY Alright, here’s the next thing I have. What is this? (response) What is it worth? (response)
CELL PHONE And one more item. Now what is this? (response)
Is it a toy phone or a real phone? (response)
How much is this worth? (response)
DOLORES I have one more thing to show you. What is this? (response)
Is it made of silver? (no) Is it made of gold? (no) Is it made of money? (no) Is it round like a marble, can you play marbles with it? (response)
Can you answer phone calls with it? (response)
Well, if you can’t use it like a marble, and you can’t answer phone calls with it, and it’s not made of gold, it must not be worth a lot? (response) How much is she/he worth? (response)
Why is she worth so much? (response)
People are more valuable than anything.
Gorney & Harburg: Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?
Ronald Reagan and I have two things in common. He was a radio announcer and producer. He had a bully pulpit. I have a bully pulpit. During my time with NPR, I did a lot of interviews, but I never interviewed anyone famous, like he did. Reagan once interviewed the big–time evangelist, Aimee Semple McPherson, who spoke with passion about her need to find adequate financial support for her revival meetings. The interview ended early, and Reagan had four minutes to fill. He asked His engineer to play something appropriate, perhaps a hymn or a stirring choral piece. Instead, and Reagan claimed it was completely by accident, the station played the popular song Minnie the Moocher.
I am quite aware of the stereotype of ministers and religious leaders that appears in the imaginations of people when they hear appeals for money. I know that some people have a jaundiced view of ministers who ask for donations. That comes from the simple fact that you know and I know that when I make an appeal for money to support the church that some of that support comes to the religious education director, the administrator and the minister. And I am the minister. And after all the scandals, the Jim & Tammy Faye Bakkers, the Jimmy Swaggarts, and all the innuendos and negative publicity, sometimes it is difficult for people to separate the man from the minister. Sometimes I even hesitate to tell people that I am a minister.
But taking a cue from last week, I don’t let the stone stop me. This church means more to me than a source of income and support. It’s more to me than the familiar two-tone walls and all the hideous green chairs and the beautiful brown carpet. It means more to me than I have words to express. It means so much to me because of you.
And I know that I am not the only one who feels this way. This church is my religious home and your religious home, too and I don’t mind asking you to support it. So we’ll collect the morning offering now for the support and ministry of this church. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank gladly accepts your donations of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
I want to light a candle for everyone who has read about and thought about Terri Schiavo. After Congress got involved, it was hard not to be aware of the tragic fiasco and circus of her life and death.
The title of my sermon, God Gave Me My Money, comes from a remark made by John D. Rockefeller during an interview in 1905. In his later years, Rockefeller came to believe that God had blessed him with divine good fortune and required of him that he use his money to further the charitable and Christian efforts of the day.
The full quotation is
God gave me my money. I believe the power to make money is a gift from God, to be developed and used to the best of our ability for the good of mankind. Having been endowed with the gift I possess, I believe it is my duty to make money and still more money and to use the money I make for the good of my fellow man according to the dictates of my conscience.
And I thought that was as noble a thought as I have heard from someone whose wealth—in his time—was beyond the comprehension of most people. He was the Bill Gates of the gilded age. He had more money than God. He and Andrew Carnegie, Cornelius Vanderbilt, John Jacob Astor and a handful of other powerful and wealthy men. Rockefeller had very little of his vast fortune when he died. And Carnegie built libraries in just about every medium sized city in America. I am pleased to know they felt some obligation to society.
Of course, those fellows were also known as Robber Barons for their rapacious business methods. In pursuit of profits—in making their money—they were more like the Wal–Mart of their day, harassing unions, keeping wages low, tearing up the environment. Apparently, making money happens under a slightly different set of Christian guidelines than the dispensing of it.
And in thinking about these incredibly rich men, I set myself the task of developing a Unitarian Universalist theology of money. In other words, if God—however you conceive of God—if God is the source of money, what am I supposed to do with it? When I studied in seminary, one of the first things I had to learn was the meaning of the word theology. I discovered that it means different things at different times to different people.
A traditional interpretation of the word theology would deny any other type of theology except Christian, and that’s due to the nature of the Trinity. So some would say there is no Muslim theology, no Jewish theology and so forth. Of course, others would say such a strict definition is so much hooey.
The word derives from the Greek words, theo and logos, which mean God and words, so literally, theology is God talk. When I was in seminary, theology was the study of everything that I consider of ultimate importance. Questions about life and death, morality, the purpose of life and so forth.
But then how to explain phrases like theology of social action and theology of capital punishment and theology of money? Well, among the more liberal ministers, seminarians and theologians today, a theology of something is a relatively well–thought–out bunch of ideas about the topic that fits neatly into one’s own overall theology. In other words, my theology of television would explain how I think television would fit into all that I believe is of ultimate importance. And for me, television would not matter too much in the grand scheme of things.
So we come to a theology of money. If God gave you your money—or even if you made it with no help from above—how does money fit into the grand scheme of things?
Well, the short answer is that you’re gonna have to study that one yourself. Your theology is not something that someone can give you. That’s the tough part of being a Unitarian Universalist—no one gives you a book with all the answers. All you get are more questions. However, as I’ve said before, we’re on this journey together, so I’ll talk some about money, which may help you prepare your own theology of money.
Money is like manure—no good except it is spread around. The words of Sir Francis Bacon. I love that sentiment and image. Money helping young things to grow. Maybe that’s why it’s green.
Starting today, we are conducting face–to–face meetings with every member of the church and several friends as well. It’s called the canvass. You may know about the canvass. It’s not a tent. A member of this congregation will soon ask you for a pledge of financial support for the church’s operating budget next year. Your canvasser will have information about how money has been coming in this past year and how it is budgeted to be spent next year. They’ll also talk about the fair share payment to Unitarian Universalist Association and Thomas Jefferson District. Your canvasser will also ask you about other ways that you might support the church.
I am sure we will encounter some emotions about money. Both from others and within ourselves. These emotions come from our families of origin, our friends and colleagues, the media and pop culture. They are normal, natural, to be expected and so I think it might be good to think about and talk about those feelings before we experience them.
I know from personal experience, and my seminary professors verify, and anecdotal evidence suggests, that Unitarian Universalists often have a dysfunctional relationship with money. Perhaps it’s due to our Puritan heritage. Maybe the culture of New England is stronger than we think. Actually, I think many Americans have a conflicted relationship with money.
And how did we entangle ourselves with this dysfunctional relationship? Well, it might have begun when we were still at home, still too young to understand much about money. But I think we got messages about money.
As a child, what did you hear in your family about money?
Nice people don’t talk about money
Money doesn’t grow on trees
Asking about someone’s money is impolite
Rather do without than ask for help
Myself, I got mixed messages. My grandmother thought money was a very private and distasteful aspect of life. But my father used to say, “It’s only money. It’s not an arm or a leg.” Well, that puts money in perspective.
And what about those messages we got about money from our families? Do we still believe what we learned as children? And what sort of messages do you get now about money, from the media, your friends, your colleagues?
Being rich is good
You only go around once
Grab the golden ring
A higher standard of living
Whoever dies with the most toys wins
Don’t leave home without it
It’s everywhere you want to be
In our relationship with money, we incorporate those messages into what we learned as a child or we reject them if they don’t ring true. In this way, we build our relationship with money, and an important part of that is our experiences with money.
Ever lost money? Found money? Been without enough money? Ever stole money? Ever given it away?
And next, we add the element of myth and what religion teaches us about money. What myths about money have you heard?
Money is security
Money is social acceptance
Money is dirty
Money is the root of all evil
After we add myth to our ideas, experiences and belief, we must then deal with our emotions about money.
What sort of emotions do we connect to money?
Guilt Envy Fear Resentment Frustration
Anger Despair Love
Ambition Ambivalence
I thought about those emotions, and it occurred to me that many were negative. So I tried to think of some positive emotions that I connect to money. I’d be happy about money—if I had a lot of it.
Since I don’t, I feel good about money when I do something good with it; when I make someone happy with it—and I don’t mean when I spend it on myself—but when I improve the world somehow. That’s when I feel good about money, no matter how great or little the amount spent.
So given all the emotions, the myths, experiences and beliefs we have about money, it’s no wonder we may have a conflicted relationship with it. Just the stuff we've gone through in the last few minutes is enough to give you heartburn.
If you needed a sheet of paper, you could walk into the office and ask Chris for one. And if you never brought it back, do you suppose she’d come after you? No. She’d never miss it.
What about the phone book? If you asked her for the phone book, I bet she’d give it to you. And if you never returned it, would she come looking for it? Maybe.
What about a chair? If you took a chair from the office, and didn’t return it, would Chris ask you for it? Probably. Why? [Value?]
What about money? If you asked Chris for $20 and you hadn’t returned it within a few days, would she come looking for you? Yes, she would. And why? [Value?]
If you think that she’d come looking for the money she gave you because it has some value, I would say not. I believe money has no value. What money has is power. And I think that may be at the heart of our dysfunctional relationship with money. It has power and we are afraid of power.
This country was founded by people who were afraid of power. That’s why they divided it among three constituencies. In the days and months after September 11th, 2001, many people were suspicious of the present administration’s consolidation of power and I think that’s an American trait. We don’t seem to like anyone to have too much power.
And that trait is offset by an ethos of unrestricted capitalism and free enterprise which allows a person to earn as much money and have as much power as possible. Under the law. And sometimes above the law.
No wonder we are conflicted. We don’t want anyone to have too much money unless that person is us! Bill Gates doesn’t need his billions. He shouldn’t have so much money and power. We should have it!
So it’s no surprise to me, that working from such a tortured relationship with money that we might feel a bit strange about asking for money or being asked for it. It’s kinda weird, I know.
I have asked people for money before. It’s a very strange experience at first, and infinitely easier to do on the radio than in person. On the air, when I worked in public radio, I didn’t have to look at anyone except my co-workers in the studio. When I sold cars, I looked at someone sitting across a desk from me, a person whom I’d met just a couple of hours ago and I had to ask them to spend $20000 on an automobile that loses a third of its value when they drive it away.
Since I wasn’t all that great at selling cars, the manager kicked me upstairs to the finance office, where I bought money from a bank, marked it up one or two percent and sold it to people who wanted to buy a car. I didn’t like that experience much, because I was tempted to get greedy by selling at too great a profit. But it relieved me of any residual emotions connected to money. In buying and selling money, I came to understand that money is like any other commodity. It’s like electricity. You can buy it, sell it and use it. It’s power in paper. That’s all.
The other thing I learned is that I have absolutely no problem asking people for money when I believe in the cause. And I believe in the church.
It’s often reported that Unitarian Universalists have a rather poor record for giving their money to their church. Here are a few interesting statistics:
Mormons give the highest percentage of their incomes to their church while Unitarian Universalists and Christian Scientists give the least. Within congregations, the poorest fifth give twice as much of their incomes as the wealthiest fifth.
Unitarian Universalists are among the top wage–earners in the population. So. We ain’t poor and we don’t have a shining record for supporting our church. That can mean one of two things: Unitarian Universalists are terribly in debt or they don’t place much value in their church. Or both.
It all adds up to a culture of scarcity. A culture that says, “We don’t have that kind of money.” “We can’t afford that.” A culture that tells us that what we are doing here is neither important nor valuable.
Well, I believe that what we are doing is valuable and worthwhile.
I have seen the culture of scarcity in a church. Because they thought they needed the money, a church in suburban Chicago rented space to a day care center, even though it caused problems: The day care center left play equipment in the sanctuary and the congregation had to move it out every Sunday morning, the religious education classes had nowhere to meet because the day care center had taken over all the meeting rooms and acrimony developed over congregants “touching” articles that belonged to the day-care center.
But when congregants witnessed children being mistreated, that was enough. They gave the day-care center 30 days notice. And you know, it’s amazing the change in the atmosphere at that church. The congregation has its building again, they have enough room, they hired their first full-time professional religious education director and they didn’t go broke.
But to think of the angst that they endured, only because they thought they couldn’t afford not to rent out a part of their building.
I have seen the culture of scarcity in a church. I did my field education in a church where they tore down a wall, took a bite out of a classroom and built a restroom that complied with the Americans with Disabilities Act. Now one of the long–time and much beloved members could use the restroom in his wheelchair. Were they proud of that? I guess they were. But all I heard about was the ten thousand dollar toilet.
But to think of the pain and embarrassment that the long-time member endured, because the congregation thought they could not afford a ten thousand dollar toilet.
I want to change that culture of scarcity. As we begin our canvass I want to develop a culture of plenty. Not a spendthrift culture, but a culture of plenty. And you can see the beginnings of it right now. There’s the new parking lot, a new playground, the new sound booth and new audio equipment.
Instead of “We don’t have that kind of money.” And “We can’t afford to do that.” I want to develop a culture that says, “How can we get that kind of money?” “How can we afford not to do that?” A culture that reinforces the value of church and communal worship. A culture of plenty.
I have seen a culture of plenty in a church. After 30 years of wishing that they owned it, the church in Ithaca NY bought the building next door. They had a congregational meeting and they looked each other in the eye and vowed to make it work. They’re renting some space downstairs now and refurbishing others on the second floor for classrooms. They’ll have a mortgage to deal with, but they made it happen.
I have seen a culture of plenty in a church. In the Upper Peninsula of Michigan—have you ever been to the Upper Peninsula? It’s not then end of the world, but you can see it from there—up there is a fellowship which had wanted a minister for a very long time. They had many lay-led worship services and ministers occasionally visited, but there was a palpable need for ministry. Well, they looked at each other in the eye and vowed to make it happen. And they hired one dynamic minister. Now they’re looking to their future and sensing that it may be much closer than they thought.
That’s a culture of plenty. And I’d like to encourage that culture in this church. Actually, I’d like to encourage that culture in Tennessee.
About twenty years ago, I did a show called, You Can’t Take It With You. In the last scene, Martin Vanderhof, a man who quit his job, is talking with Mr. Kirby and advises him that he should do the same: Just quit. Mr. Kirby says that a man just can’t quit his business. Vanderhof replies,
GRANDPA. Why not? You’ve got all the money you need. You can’t take it with you.
KIRBY. That’s a very easy thing to say, Mr. Vanderhof, But I have spent my entire life building up my business.
GRANDPA. And what’s it got you? Same kind of mail every morning, same kind of deals, same kind of meetings, same dinners at night, same indigestion, Where does the fun come in? Don’t you think there ought to be something more, Mr. Kirby? You must have wanted more than that when you started out. We haven’t got too much time, you know—any of us.
What he’s saying in that speech is to follow your joy, and put your money where your heart is. And that’s what we need to do in order to find our theology of money. We can’t take it with us. And money is no good stuffed in a mattress or sitting in a big pile in Fort Knox. It’s only good if it’s spread around to help things grow.
Once When My Heart Was Passion Free
Announcements
Please check out the insert for important news in the church. Dolores reminds you to properly supervise your children when they use the playground.
I need your help. I want to scare Lee Adler. A month or so ago, she came to me all concerned that not enough people would sign up for the Circle Dinners. She was truly concerned and thought we ought to get a brass band and rent a billboard to get the word out. I reassured her that all would be well, and a notice went into announcements. So what happened? She was nearly overwhelmed with participation.
A week ago she came back to me all in a tizzy over the Seder Supper. Won’t have many people sign up, she said. Gotta make a hundred announcements, wear a sandwich board and all that. I reassured her that all would be well and today I am making the first announcement for the Seder Supper. I want you all to participate and scare Lee into thinking that too many people will attend.
It’s quite an evening, all prepared for your pleasure by that holy trinity of kosher cuisine, Daidee Springer, Helen Solomon and, of course, Lee Adler. The details are in the newsletter and a sign–up sheet is posted on the window near the kitchen.
Please send announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in the worship service.
You know I go through life, figuring that I’ll get what I deserve. I suppose many people feel the same way. But ever since you called me to this pulpit, I have felt blessed just to be alive. Like Henry David Thoreau, I feel that I have been given more than my usual allowance.
There were times when I could not afford
to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment
to any work, whether of head or hands.
Sometimes, in a summer morning,
having taken my accustomed bath,
I sat in my sunny doorway
from sunrise till noon, rapt in a reverie,
amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs,
in undisturbed solitude and stillness,
while the birds sang around.
I grew in those seasons
like corn in the night,
and they were far better
than any work of the hands would have been.
They were not time subtracted from my life,
but so much over and above my usual allowance.
DeSylva & Silvers: April Showers
Link to this Service