May 29, 2005
Remembering Too Well
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Fred Tregaskis and I am the president of the congregation for about another month. 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 those who need a little extra support when standing. After the service, please join us for coffee and conversation.
We’d like to break with habit for a moment and honor all the religious education teachers. If you are a teacher, were a teacher or will be a teacher in our religious education program, please stand now and accept the gratitude of the congregation.
Thank you.
Today our service is one of remembrance. To accompany our service, Linda chose music of a distinctly American character. She begins with a folk song Fare Thee well.
Kindling the Chalice
When the ripe fruit falls its sweetness distills and trickles away into the veins of the earth.When fulfilled people die
the essential oil of their experience enters
the veins of living space, and adds a glisten
to the atom, to the body of immortal chaos.
For space is alive
and it stirs like a swan
whose feathers glisten
silky with oil of distilled experience.—D.H. LAWRENCE
Remember Me?
I invite the young and the young at heart up to learn about one of our national holidays. Does anyone know what today is? Today is a national holiday. Do you know what it is?
(Memorial Day.)
Today is the holiday, but we celebrate it on Monday, so everyone has an extra day off and a long weekend. Do you know anything about Memorial Day? It began as a day to remember the people in the army and the navy and the air force who died. But today, Memorial Day is a time to remember everyone we loved who died, not just the soldiers, sailors and airmen. At this holiday, we should make an effort to remember all the people who have helped us in the past.
It is important for us to remember others because other people are important to us. For example, we did not build this church building. People who lived before us provided for this church to be built. We should be thankful for what they did. We did not write the music we sing. Other people, who lived before us, provided these things for us.
Now, one way we have of saying “thank you” is to see that we take good care of what we have received from others, so that we can pass it on to other people. Have you ever taken out a book or a video from the library? What do you do with it after you used it? I’ll bet you returned it in the same condition as when you received it so that others can use it.
Taking care of what we have received from others is the best way for us to remember them and to show that we appreciate what they have done for us. So, when you use something, in your church or school or home, and it has been provided for you by someone else, take good care of it.
Offertory: Shenandoah
Gertrude Stein lived from 1874 to 1946, most of that time over-seas. She was a renowned writer of experimental prose and she didn’t suffer quietly those she considered her inferiors.
She appeared once on a nationwide radio show, arranged by her publisher Bennett Cerf to introduce her writing to a wider audience. In welcoming her, Cerf announced that he was proud to be her publisher but, in truth, he had never really understood her work at all. Stein responded instantly, “I’ve always told you, Bennett, you’re a nice boy but you’re rather stupid.”
In 1929 Gertrude Stein was invited to lecture at Oxford. She delivered a well-argued address in her customary style. Her lucidity and platform presence confounded those who had mainly come to jeer, although there was some laughter when she said in the course of her lecture, “Everything is the same and everything is different.” At the end two hecklers jumped to their feet in different parts of the lecture hall and fired the same question at her: “Miss Stein, if everything is the same, how can everything be different?” Miss Stein replied, “Consider, the two of you, you jump up one after the other, that is the same thing and surely you admit that the two of you are always different.”
Every week it’s the same thing. I stand here and suggest that you drop a hundred dollars into the collection plate. Every week, it’s different. Some weeks, the total is up, some weeks it’s down. Last week the collection took a bit of a nosedive, so this week, I’m sure it’ll be sky–high.
The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your donations of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
This morning, as we sit here in this sanctuary, I’d like you to remember. Remember anything you like, or several things. Places you’ve been, people you know, good times and bad. Remember also those whom you know who died, either recently or a long time ago. This is a safe place to remember. If you feel overwhelmed, we’ll be here to hold you up. Remember.
Did you ever wonder why you had a memory? This week I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been wondering why human beings have memories and bumblebees don’t. And I think I figured it out. We have a memory so we can remember. Remember the emotions, not the sensations. Although we can remember the sights or the sounds or the smells or the touch or taste of things, we have a memory so that we can remember the emotions, the feelings.
We are blessed—some might say cursed—with the ability to recall events and people that happened in the past. Human beings have a memory and it works sorta like a computer’s hard drive. All our memories are indexed by title, date, subject matter, people, place, date and time of day. Just think of the title and the memory instantly appears in your imagination. Or think of the date and several things that happened then come into your consciousness.
Of course it doesn’t always work this smoothly. Sometimes your hard drive just won’t go and try as you might, you cannot remember whatshername. For me, in recent years, this seems to happen more often than it did when I was younger. I recognize the same frustration with memory malfunction that I feel when my computer malfunctions. I know the information’s in there. If I could just get at it somehow.
Even though our operating system may be ten years out–of–date— and in the computer world, that is an eternity—even though our mechanics may be slipshod and the data banks have huge holes in them, we still have a memory.
And I think that is a most remarkable thing: that I can hold in my being somewhere, the sight and sound, the touch and fragrance, the taste of something or someone long ago. I can hold it and recall it to my consciousness whenever it pleases me. I can recall images, replay scenes, relive entire days of many years past. I can see my father and mother and grandmother and many people who are dead or who haven’t been in my presence for years. And here’s something truly weird: I can remember people I never met and relive events I never attended.
I remember facts & figures, how to drive a car and multiplication tables, too. But these are more like acquired skills, the tools I need to get through the day. I have what I call vestigial memories, too, those little bits of knowledge that were once useful, but being used no longer, flicker and die, like a computer’s memory dies when the power is shut off. I sorta know how to operate a slide rule, and I think I can diagram a sentence, but it’s been a very long time.
Portions of my memory seem to be permanent and cannot be damaged except by disease or shock. Other parts are volatile and evaporate when I don’t use them. There’s things I’ll always remember and much that I have forgotten. The storage capacity for my long–term memory seems limitless, but acquiring new memories can push out others. When I learned how to use a calculator I forgot long division and how to figure square roots. Some would say that when we learned how to send e-mail, we forgot how to write a letter.
I am more concerned today with my affective memory, that part of me where my parents and grandparents live, that part of me where my emotions live. Because I think that’s why we humans really remember. The emotions.
For humans, it’s not enough to recall a 16th birthday party and getting a driver’s license. It’s not enough to recall a first love and how handsome he was or how pretty she was. It’s not enough to remember your father’s necktie or Aunt Edna’s perfume or your first airplane flight. What’s important is how we feel in our memories, what emotions they trigger and why.
Even the same memory can provoke conflicting emotions: your high school graduation, for instance. You probably felt exuberant, ready to take on the world. But maybe a bit apprehensive at the prospect of entering a new and unfamiliar phase of your life. And knowing that you may never see some of your classmates again, your day may have been tinged with melancholy.
People say that animals have memories, too. They may have some rudimentary memory, it’s hard to prove one way or the other. Your dog may appear to remember your face or the sound of your voice, but it might just be that he’s conditioned to expect a good time when he sees you. I believe my cat does not remember that salmon burger tastes better than turkey burger, but that’s the way it appears.
But we don’t know for sure. A woman I believe to be a reasonable person told me a story of elephants the other day. One elephant got excited upon meeting another at a wild animal park. Turns out they are mother and daughter, separated many years ago. Did they remember one another? I don’t know.
But even if animals have memories, we’re pretty certain they don’t have emotions like ours, so it seems to me that the reason we have a memory is so we can remember our emotions. Go back to the time you got your driver’s license. Sure, you remember the car you first drove, but isn’t that because you were higher than a kite? Or scared silly? We remember times and places and people and events because of the way we felt at that time. The emotions that our memories bring back to us, the feelings, I believe are the reason we remember.
And let me just parse that word, “remember.” The r and e that begin the word indicate something that is happening again, that it’s repeated. And I think what’s happening again is the feeling of the emotion. We’re not really “seeing” or “hearing” something again. When we remember Woodstock, we don’t really hear Richie Havens and Carlos Santana and we don’t see 300,000 people. We “see” them and “hear” them in our imaginations.
But our feelings are not imagined. They are as real as they were the first time around. We don’t feel a representation of our emotion, we feel the love, the anger, the fear—whatever it was— we feel it again.
And why would that be important? Because it reinforces our connections—to each other, to our families, to the world. Because it keeps us alive, it keeps us human. It’s human nature to be connected. It’s human nature to have emotions.
Not all the emotions we remember are pleasant. That’s a fact.
I had a conversation a few days ago with someone who wouldn’t be attending church today because of the topic of the service. This person was trying to avoid feelings of grief brought on by the death of a loved one last year.
Trying to avoid grief is futile. Grief is a necessary part of life. If you don’t find your grief, your grief will find you, and probably at inopportune moments.
However, in the company of other people, you can begin to rebuild your connections. You can recall those moments of joy and not be overwhelmed when moments of sadness come unbidden. Grieving is a long process, not to be endured alone. That’s one of the reasons we’re here. So I encourage you to seek out other people to help you experience your grief.
It is the custom of this congregation to set aside Memorial Day not only for picnics and auto races but also as a time to remember those who have died in the past year. And so I offer you this list of people to remember. There are others, of course. But these are the ones whose death touched me.
Yasser Arafat was revered as the beacon of Palestinian statehood but reviled as a sponsor of terrorism. He died November 11th at the age of 75.
Superman, whose secret identity was Christopher Reeve, turned personal tragedy into a public crusade and from his wheelchair became the nation’s most recognizable spokesman for spinal cord research. He died October 10th. He was 52.
Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross was internationally known as an expert on death and dying. She died August 24th at 78. Kubler-Ross invited Americans to confront their squeamishness about mortality in her book On Death and Dying, a study of emotional experiences at the end of life. The book changed medical practice and the way people understand their feelings as they confront terminal illness in their loved ones or themselves.
Julia Child, wrote books and produced television shows that demystified French cuisine and ignited a gourmet cooking craze. She died August 12th in her sleep at her home near Santa Barbara. She was 91.
Francis Crick, along with James Watson, discovered the spiral, “double-helix” structure of DNA and won a Nobel prize for it. His research paved the way for everything from DNA blood tests to genetically engineered tomatoes. He died July 28th in San Diego. He was 88.
Marlon Brando was an actor whose riveting performances transformed acting from a remote craft to a naturalistic art form, died July 1st. He was 80. Brando won his first Oscar in 1954 for his portrayal of Terry Malloy in On the Waterfront and his second in 1972 for Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather.
Ray Charles was a musical innovator whose bold, effortless fusions left an indelible mark on the rock, soul and country music of the past half-century. He died June 10th at his Beverly Hills home at the age of 73.
President Ronald Reagan reshaped the Republican Party in his conservative image and devoted most of his energy to the destruction of communism abroad. He died June 5th at age 93 following a 10-year battle with Alzheimer’s disease. Pope John Paul II led the Roman Catholic Church for 26 years and helped topple communism in Europe while becoming the most-traveled pope. He died April 2nd in his Vatican apartment. He was 84.
Bob Keeshan gently entertained and educated generations of children as Captain Kangaroo. He died of a long illness January 23rd at the age of 76. Keeshan’s Captain Kangaroo premiered on CBS in 1955 and ran for 30 years before moving to public television for six more. It was wildly popular among children and won six Emmy Awards, three Gabriels and three Peabody Awards.
J.L. Hunter Roundtree was probably the nation’s oldest known bank robber when he died October 12th, at a prison hospital in Springfield, Missouri at the age of 92. When he died, he was serving time for the third robbery of the same bank in Abilene, Texas, which happened when he was 91. He slowly walked to the teller’s window and handed over an envelope indicating his intent. The teller couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding?” he asked, but gave him $1,999 anyway. Roundtree shuffled out the bank, but was later caught after a 90 mph chase. He was sentenced to 12½ years in prison. Roundtree said, “You want to know why I rob banks? It’s fun. I feel good, awful good.”
Bobby Frank Cherry, a member of the Ku Klux Klan, was convicted of killing four black girls in the bombing of a Birmingham church in 1963. He died November 18th at a prison hospital in Montgomery, Alabama. He was 74. The Sunday morning bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church was called the deadliest crime of the civil rights era.
J.B. Stoner died April 23rd in a Walker County nursing home. He was 81. Jesse Benjamin Stoner was born at the foot of Lookout Mountain where his father was a conductor on the incline railway. He attended McCallie School, but never graduated. He was an avowed anti-Semite and white supremacist and was convicted of bombing the Bethel Baptist Church in Birmingham, in 1958. He is buried in Forest Hills Cemetery in Chattanooga.
Richard Avedon was a revolutionary photographer who redefined fashion photography as an art form and received critical acclaim for his stark black-and-white portraits of powerful and celebrated people. He died October 1st at 81.
Harry Babbitt, Henry Corden and Thurl Ravenscroft all died within the last year. Babbitt was the laugh of Woody Woodpecker, and he died April 9th at 90. Corden was the voice of Fred Flintstone. He died May 19th at 85. Ravenscroft was the voice of Tony the Tiger. He died May 24th at 91.
Arthur Miller was a playwright and winner of a Pulitzer Prize, whose most famous character, Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman, came to symbolize the American Dream gone awry. He died February 10th at 89.
Sergeant 1st Class Stephen C. Kennedy was killed April 4th in Balad Ruz, Iraq, when his patrol was attacked by enemy forces using small arms fire. He was 35 and lived in Oak Ridge. Kennedy was assigned to the 1st Squadron, 278th Armored Cavalry Regiment, of the Army National Guard, based in Lenoir City.
Sergeant Alfred B. Siler died May 25th in Tuz, Iraq, when his Humvee hit another vehicle. He was 33 and lived in Duff, a tiny little burg north of LaFollette, almost in Kentucky. Siler was assigned to the Support Squadron, 278th Regimental Combat Team, of the Army National Guard, based in Knoxville.
Terry Schiavo died March 31st. She was 41.
And now I invite you to call out the names of those you remember. Not only those who died this year, but anyone you now hold in your remembrance. Let me begin by naming three people who died within the last year and who were connected to this church.
SYLVIA HARRISON
LAMAR BRYSON
[Names called out by the congregation]
In about a half–hour, after I catch my breath, we will re–dedicate the Memorial Garden with water that we collected last September at our Ingathering. We do this every year and I hope you’ll join us. I’ll ring the chime and we’ll all gather at the door and walk down to the garden.
What the choir and band will play next is a favorite of mine and has been heard around this church a few times. A while ago, I discovered that someone had written words for it. These lyrics were written by Cleo Laine and John Dankworth. They are
That shatters the silence so heavy to bear,
Lifts my soul into the night, fills my heart with love abounding,
And brings me the peace we all surely will share.
Though it’s time for farewell, the time for the parting,
Whatever the dawn may bring,
You’ll be part of my heart, each living moment,
Come summer, come Autumn, come Winter, come Spring.
Anthem
Ashokan Farewell
Announcements
Please consult your program for information about the life of this church.
In order that our religious education teachers have a chance to greet their friends and enjoy our time of fellowship, they are released from their duties 15 minutes after this service ends. Parents, please take note of this and meet your children at that time. It is important that the teachers know you are supervising your children so they can attend to their own needs.
This year the children have looked at the seven Unitarian Universalist principles one–by–one. Their curriculum is finished now and they would dearly love to share what they learned with you if you would visit their classrooms today. Also, Dolores intends to dedicate the WENDELL MANN PLAYHOUUSE later, and you are invited to that.
Saturday is mUUsic Jam at 3 pm with drummers warming up at 1:30. Bring sheet music or chord charts and your instrument and voice. Everyone welcome.
Photos are now on the web site from the new member Bar–B–Que. Many thanks to all who helped produce this popular event.
Would the following people please come forward and stand right over here: Rich Dwyer, Mary Hunter, Skip Stevens, Martha Berry, Priscilla King, Karl Hunt, Jeff Briere, Michael Walters, Kate Briere, Evelyn Wood, Dolores Wood, Steve Hollingsworth, Marcia Jenison and Nancy Anderson.
[Linda Pehlman presents a rose to each member of the choir.]
Please remember to send your announcements to the church by Thursday for inclusion in the Sunday service.
Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky
end in the folding of wings over the nest.Let the last touch of your hands be gentle
like the flower of the night.Stand still, a Beautiful End,
and say your last words in silence.I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.
—RABINDRANATH TAGORE
Rededication of the Memorial Garden
In this place where memories live, we gather to honor those who were close to us, those who touched us, those who lived with us but now live within us. In life, we carried their love, and we carry it still. Although a memory is not a heavy burden, it is not always a joyous one. It is evidence of our living that we remember; partly in sorrow for our loss, partly in fear of our own death and partly in love of our common humanity.
We come now to rededicate this garden and ourselves to that which moves us; to those goals, ideals and dreams which guide our lives, which guided their lives and which infuse our memories with courage and love. Let the spirits invoked by our voices and actions rest easy and warm.
Water, like memory, cannot be destroyed, only changed in appearance. Water falls from clouds only to percolate up through the ground into rivers and evaporate into the sky to make more clouds. In time, our memory will fade and we won’t see our family and friends as clearly as we do now. However, the memory we have will inhabit other parts of our lives. One day, years from now we might see a dress like the one she wore or hear an expression that he used. And again memories will be stirred and feelings will surface. And we’ll remember.
Taking this water that we have brought from distant places, let us now nourish the earth and the plants in this garden so that they will be strong and grow. We wish them to be here for others who will come to remember.
Link to this Service
May 21, 2005
Question Box Service
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 those who need a little extra support when standing. After the service, please join us for coffee and conversation.
Today our service will answer your questions. Literally. Over the past few weeks, we have collected your questions and today our minister or religious educator will answer them. To begin our service, Steve chose music by the Hungarian composer, Bela Bartok.
Kindling the Chalice
As Karl said, this service answers questions. And one question I got was this: “Why do we light the chalice?” The lighting of the chalice is something that got started with the women’s movement in the 60's, probably in California and it is seen in about 90% of our churches today. There are words for several chalice lightings in the hymnal, starting at number 447, and if you read through them, you’ll get some ideas about why we light the chalice.
But none of those words reflect what it means to me. For me, lighting the chalice is a signal that something important is happening. It’s a visual reminder of a spiritual connection that we rebuild each time we come to the Sunday worship service. And to accompany the chalice lighting this morning, I have these words about miracles.
I often read stories I the paper about people who search very hard for miracles. Last week, many people looked for the Virgin Mary in a water stain on a bridge abutment in Chicago. Sometimes, I read stories about people who try to create miracles, like the bride who invites a thousand people to her wedding and has fifteen attendants and rents the Astrodome for the reception. Everyday life must be tiresome, repetitive, boring and dull to some people. It seems that the everyday miracles so easily experienced are lostto them. Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, now living in exile in France looks for miracles everyday. He says,
I like to walk alone on country paths, rice plants and wild grasses on both sides, putting each foot down on the earth in mindfulness, knowing that I walk on the wondrous earth. In such moments, existence is a miraculous and mysterious reality. People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the brown, curious eyes of a child, our own two eyes. All is a miracle.Looking for special signs and miracles, we can easily miss what is unfolding before us. Your ears hear these words—how wonderful. You are breathing now—how wonderful. Your eyes see these people—how miraculous. You are alive and I am alive and the earth is alive and that is a miracle.
Kids Ask the Darndest Things
I invite the young and the young at heart up here to learn why I invite the young and the young at heart up here. This is the day questions are asked and answered, and one question I got from a youngster was this:
Why do the children come down in front of the congregation?
The reasons for this practice are mostly practical. The point is for the children to have a moment with the minister before going to their classes. Most of the adults in this room know me, know what I talk about, and know something of my background and personality. But I am your minister, too, and if you go off to your classes every Sunday, I won’t ever have a chance to meet you.
One minister I know gathers the children off to the side and while music plays for the congregation, the kids and the minister have a private time to themselves. But I know parents enjoy participating with their children in religious experiences, so many other ministers have this time with the children in public where the parents can see and hear. And that has been our practice here.
I will say this to the youngster who asked this question: If you are embarrassed or scared or feel weird in any way about coming up here, then please stay with your parents and talk to them about how you feel. Or talk to Dolores or me.
Why are we different than other churches and how do we explain that to other kids who ask?
We are different from other churches and other churches are different from us because people go to the church in which they feel comfortable. People go to different churches for the same reason they live in different houses. We all don’t live in the same house. Each family has its own house. And each house looks different from the others. Same for ice cream. We all have favorite flavors of ice cream. That’s a pretty good way to explain it to your friends, too. If someone asks why your church is different, you can say it just is, like different houses or ice cream flavors. And you might want to invite your friend to your church someday.
Why can’t people focus on the similarities in each other instead of the differences?
I think people do this for a couple of reasons: One, it’s human nature to try to define something. If I see something walking down the street and it has fur and four legs and barks, I’ll define it as a dog. Five minutes later, if I see another four–legged, furry critter walking down the street and this one is smaller, sleeker and meows, I notice the differences and I say the second one is a cat. Humans do this with everything: plants, animals, cars, houses, even other people. There is something in our brains that makes us want to categorize all that we see so that we can understand it better. It’s the same thing that makes us want to put a jigsaw puzzle together—it’s a simple way of making sense of a very complex world. So we look for differences.
And two, we are lazy, sometimes. When it comes to people, it’s harder to see the similarities than it is the differences. I don’t mean external similarities. Anyone can see that you and I each have two arms and two legs and two ears and two eyes, but other similarities, the similarities inside us, are very hard to see. To see the inside similarities takes time and effort. You have to get to know the other person. And I’m sorry to say, many of us are scared by the prospect of spending a lot of time getting to know each other.
Why do we die?
I wish we didn’t have to die, but we do. If we were perfect we wouldn’t die. But no one is perfect. Plants die, animals die, everything that is alive will die. In all of history, every living being died. Now I could say that no one knows the reason why—it’s just the way it is. And that would be a fair answer.
But I think the youngster who asked this question deserves to hear two more thoughts. First, dying is a natural part of life and not something to be afraid of. Whether it’s your own death or the death of a friend or relative, it may take some time to develop the courage to face it, but you will do it naturally. Anyone can develop courage and everyone is capable of facing death. Even you. Just remember it’s part of life and try not to be scared.
Second, you can help yourself accept dying by living a strong, vigorous life, learning all you can about this world and the people in it. Love life, and love living. Be thankful every day that you are alive right here and right now. Work on ways to make the world a better place. Take advantage of every opportunity to learn something new and meet new people and have new experiences. If you do that, you will have more than enough courage to face dying.
A story now from the Buddhist tradition, in which the Buddha teaches us to cultivate self–confidence, which is not an easy task. Self–confidence is too easily lost when we indulge our fears and compare ourselves to others. As our hymn 184 says, “Be ye lamps unto yourselves.”
As the Buddha was preaching one day, a man interrupted him with a flood of abuse. Buddha waited until he had finished and then asked him, “If a man offered a gift to another but the gift was declined, to whom would the gift belong?”
“To the one who offered it,” said the man.
“Then,” said Buddha, “I decline to accept your abuse and request you to keep it for yourself.”
We will now accept your offering for the support and ministry of this church and have no fear that we will decline to accept whatever you put in the basket. We will happily accept it. Likewise, the Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your donations of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
The Question Box
This is the Question Box Sermon, a chance for you to ask questions about Unitarian Universalism or this church, the practice of religion or just about anything else that puzzles you. This is a good chance for you to ask questions in a semi–anonymous situation.
There are three questions on this sheet, one of which concerns religious education and specifically, the youth group.
Why does the UU church have such a problem with a youth group?
I believe this refers to the lack of an organized group for older children, teenagers. The most important reason is demographics. It’s not only a Unitarian Universalist problem. Every church, synagogue, mosque and temple has the same problem, to a greater degree the more liberal it is, and to a lesser degree, the more conservative it is.
There are other reasons, too: The one thing American teenagers feel most strongly about is that they must not become their parents. (Although they will.) So they do everything they can to define themselves against their parents. So if mom and dad go to church, Junior will want to stay home.
In order to build a good program for teenagers, we need to lay a good foundation, to expose younger children to the fact that good things can happen at church and you can have fun there. We cannot expect someone to participate merely because his or her parents think it’s a good idea. The impetus has to come from the teenager. As a result, Dolores and I believe that putting more emphasis on the younger grades in hopes of building a critical mass of teens is a good idea. In time, they would form bonds and be the nucleus of a teen group.
And what’s more important, support has to come from the parents. Thus, we cannot expect kids to show up here—even if they are excited by the prospect of church—if their parents don’t want to come to church, or attend irregularly. Any good religious education program needs the commitment of parents and children to attend regularly.
A Youth Group will not form around an ideal. They need a consistent, in–touch, dynamic, cool–beans type of leader, like Michael Walters or Kate Briere. And that leader cannot be expected to valiantly produce a program week after week for teenagers who do not attend—for whatever reason.
A youth group needs consistent funding. Last year some of the older children went on a rafting trip and it was hard to find the money to pay for it. We can either charge the participants or fund the program properly, and this church has done neither of those.
And a youth group needs its own room. Every teenager I ever knew wanted a private room. A youth group would need a room they could call their own and could decorate it they way it suited them.
What can we do to stop the discrimination of the UU’s?
I am gonna guess that the questioner is asking what we can do to turn around the culture of this church—and perhaps all Unitarian Universalists—the culture which works against the formation of a youth group. Well, to start with, get the commitment of parents and teens to attend, find a dynamic leader and find money. Beyond that, get involved and get every parent of every teenager and pre–teen involved as well. This church is only as responsive to your needs as you make it.
The last question on this page is What is UU all about?
I once had a bumper sticker idea: UU Is What U Make It. Clever, but not very satisfying. Any human endeavor falls into that category. Anything is what you make it. The point is that Unitarian Universalism cannot be anything unless you make it something. This is a non–creedal faith. No one is going to tell you what it’s all about. You’ll have to find that out for yourself. However, as a Unitarian Universalist, you don’t make the journey alone. You have the support and camaraderie of people who, like you, are searching for the truth.
How will I know the truth when I find it?
This is one of those times in your life that you’ll have to trust your intuition, because no one can tell you what the truth looks like. There was a time you feel in love, I’ll bet. How did you know she was the one? How did you know that he was the one? You just knew, that’s all.
The truth ought to open you up to more experiences and stronger connections with others. If, when you find the truth, you also find that you are closing yourself off from people, if the circle of your connections is shrinking, then I would re–consider the truth.
Likewise, if you get yourself to a place where all is rigid and the truth will not bend to fit the obvious facts of existence, then I would suggest it’s time to find another truth, another something on which you can rely. I believe the truth must conform to reality and it must be reliable. None of us is perfect. We all make mistakes. We might even mistake fool’s gold for the real thing or something blissful for the truth. When this happens, we are perfectly free to abandon what we thought was the truth for a more reliable truth.
What are the limits of liberal theology?
This question presupposes that there are limits to liberal theology. Note that the question is not “Are the any limits...?” but “What are the limits...?”
By it’s very nature, the house of liberal theology leaves at least one window open for the fresh breeze of new discoveries and novel thought. If liberal theology closed all the doors and all the windows, it wouldn’t be liberal. It would be conservative.
So theoretically, liberal theology has no limits. But in practice, it’s limited by common sense, good judgement and ethics. Liberal theology cannot be so liberal that it compels people to walk barefoot over broken glass. Liberal theology cannot be so liberal that it teaches people to live only in Saskatchewan. Liberal theology, like any theology, must seek to improve the believer, must foster cooperation among people, not confrontation, and must seek to make the world a better place.
Liberal theology stops at the point of intentional, unprovoked harm to another person. Liberal theology stops at mean–spirited actions. Here are a few words that are not in the liberal theology lexicon: rancor, acrimony, cruelty, spite, malevolence, ingratitude, revenge, malice, envy, contempt, arrogance, greed. And I could go on, but I think you get the point. When liberal theology gets to the point that it does not promote peaceful cooperation among people, where it does not allow relationships to develop, then it is not liberal.
Did Adam have a bellybutton?
This question is often posed by people arguing the origin of humanity. If you answer, “Yes,” then you admit that Adam had human parents. If you answer, “No,” then you deny that Adam was human. So it’s a question like, “Did you inhale?” If by Adam, you mean the first human being, the answer is no one knows, because we don’t have a photograph of Adam. I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear, so let me propose a more satisfying answer: It depends.
It depends on how you believe the first human being came to be the first human being. If you believe that the first human being evolved from another form of life, then the answer is, probably. Everything we know about belly buttons tells us that early proto-human creatures, if they gave birth as we do, must have had belly buttons, so Adam probably had one.
If you accept the story of creation in Genesis, if you believe that God picked up a hunk of clay and molded the first human being on the sixth day of creation, then the answer is, maybe. If God made a human being, then God could have added a belly button. For sure, given the story in Genesis, we can say that Cain and Abel had belly buttons, because they had human parents. But as for Adam and for Eve, we don’t know.
Is there room for ecstatic worship in Unitarian Universalist traditions?
The questioner means talking in tongues and other emotional displays of the spirit. In UU traditions, the answer is no. In the future, maybe. There is some history with the Unitarians on this subject.
The Great Awakening was a major revival movement in the 18th century. It swept up and down the Atlantic seaboard and inland to the Appalachians. It was characterized by fervent, sensational emotional outbursts, both from the preachers and from those attending the revivals. It has been described as the first American event of national scope.
The excesses of the movement repelled the more rational clergy in New England and drove them ever closer to Unitarian theology. In time, being products of the Enlightenment, they embraced the rational aspects of their faith and rejected displays of emotion. And that culture is still hanging on in many Unitarian Universalist churches today. Even this church, although your minister does his level best every Sunday to balance it with a little flamboyance.
Like many of my colleagues, I have mixed feelings about the practice of speaking in tongues, handling of snakes and allowing oneself to be caught up with the spirit and roll down the aisle. The part of me that’s ruled by the scientific method wants to investigate these phenomena and be assured that no one is “faking it.” The part of me that loves a mystery is really fascinated by emotional outbursts in church which seem to indicate a level of religiosity and worship that is unfamiliar to me. My final answer is, don’t expect ecstatic worship in the Unitarian Universalist church anytime soon.
Can you compare the influence of the prominent Unitarian and Universalist prophets, Emerson, Channing and others?
Let me tell you about three Unitarian ministers who were “prophets” of religious liberalism: William Ellery Channing, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Theodore Parker.
Channing, in 1819, gave the sermon at the ordination of Jared Sparks in Baltimore. It was a calculated speech, designed to settle controversy and provoke his detractors, and it went through multiple printings and was said to be read more than any other document since Common Sense. In his speech, “Unitarian Christianity,” Channing made it plain that reason was to be used in religious matters, especially in reading the Bible. Let me just give you a few quotes and I think you’ll understand what he said in this speech.
The Bible is a book written for men by men and ought to be interpreted in the same manner as that of other books. No book requires the more frequent exercise of reason than the Bible. God never contradicts in one part of Scripture what he teaches in another and never contradicts in revelation what he teaches in his providence. We feel it our bounden duty to exercise our reason, to compare, to infer and to look beyond the letter to the spirit.Emerson was in the audience that day, having traveled with a group of Unitarians from Boston, and he was undoubtedly influenced by Channing. In 1838, he addressed the graduating class at the Harvard Divinity School and touched off a firestorm of controversy. In his address, he implied that people can develop a direct relationship with God, that they don’t need a Bible or even language. He spoke about intuition and what he called the Understanding, something beyond reason. With this faculty, or sentiment, as he called it, people can have a direct, intuitive apprehension of God. It need not be mediated by reason or experience.
Well that was radical enough, but he didn’t stop there. He seemed to indicate God was a collection of divine laws, not a divine being and he explicitly denied miracles. In time, Unitarians abandoned the doctrine of miracles and the theology that was built on it.
In the audience of graduates that day was Theodore Parker, a man who turned out to be the most radical minister of his time. In 1841, he preached a sermon, “The Transient and Permanent in Christianity,” in which he separated the religion of Jesus from the religion about Jesus. But he didn’t stop there. He also questioned the authority of the Bible and the authority of Jesus.
As a result, he put his Unitarian colleagues on the spot. If they acceded to the outcry from their congregations and the orthodox, they would default on their collegial relationship with Parker. If they stood by him, they risked their settlements in the churches they served. The Unitarians could not deny Parker the right to speak his mind, but they thought he had some responsibility to reflect the generally held views of the community.
Parker refused to back down and all the other Unitarian ministers refused to accept his radical views. They didn’t boot him out of their company, but they ostracized him nonetheless.
The lessons that remain with us today from Channing, Emerson and Parker are these: the use of our rational nature in religious matters, a direct intuitive sense of God and fellowship with those who are members of our churches, regardless of their personal views.
What led you to become a minister and what do you consider your role as a minister to be?
I have many roles around here, but the big reason you called me to this ministry so that I will look for the big picture, so that I will care for the church and the people in it without regard for present day politics or the excitement of the moment.
What led me to the ministry? A desire to serve, first, probably instilled by my mother’s work with the American Red Cross and my exposure to the Jesuits who educated me in high school and college.
Secondly, a notion that I could preach as well or better than others I had seen and heard. The preaching I experienced was too much in the head and not enough in the heart. I saw ministers who did not follow the basic concepts of communication as I learned them in theatre, advertising, radio, television and public speaking— although there was ample evidence they could think and theorize and cogitate rings around me. I thought that people on Sunday morning, sitting on an uncomfortable seat, wishing for a cup of coffee, missing a few hours of sleep, deserved more than a dry–as–bones lecture. I also thought God’s frozen people needed warming up a bit.
During the time I thought about ministry and during my time in seminary, I always felt nudged along by something at my back, prodding me to do this or try that. I never heard a voice, nor saw a light, nor followed a distant call. None of those romantic notions were mine. I didn’t even hear a still small voice within. I felt nudged.
As it turns out, what I thought I would excel at, preaching, is the most difficult of all my duties, and what I thought I would be miserable at, pastoral care, is the most rewarding.
If all humans were governed and acted by the Golden Rule, instead of a belief in God or gods, would the world be a better place?
Oh, my. Quick answer, yes, of course. By definition. I hafta say that if this came to pass, the world would be boring. Yes, paradise is boring. Furthermore, I believe it won’t happen.
What the questioner is saying is that religions are the cause of a lot of misery in the world. And it might be nice if we outlawed religion in favor of the Golden Rule. This logic will also lead one to say that all guns should be banned because they shoot bullets which kill people. And it leads one to say that motorcycles ought to be outlawed because they make excessive noise. But we can’t confuse the instigator with the effect.
I believe evil will always be with us. There is just something about human existence that admits of bad things. War and murder and rape and burglary and littering and disorderly conduct and spitting on the sidewalk are here to stay. I think it’s part of our humanity.
What saves us, if you will, what redeems us is our struggle to defeat evil in our lives. What we can do to foster justice, to make peace, to hold criminals accountable, what we can do to promote the good things in life—what we can do to balance the scales—that will be the legacy we leave to our children.
When are you going on the air with Jeff Styles to fulfill my auction item?
This question comes from Martha Berry. When I was just barely here a couple months, still a young pup, wet behind the ears, knowing nothing about nothing about Chattanooga, Martha Berry, at the service auction, without my permission, made the winning bid on a half hour with Jeff Styles on Talk Radio 102 to discuss the topic of choice. She bid on it, she says, only if I would take her place at the microphone. She wanted me to talk about myself and she thought Chattanooga ought to get to know me better.
Well, Martha allowed me to save this until I had something to talk about. Now I do. Martha, you will be pleased to know that Jeff has agreed to chat with me on the air this fall and what we will chat about is not me, but the Lovell Sisters Band and their concert at the church on the weekend of the autumnal equinox. I am sorry that I cannot talk about myself. That’s just not something I can do on the radio. But I can talk about the church and the concert and I might even sneak your name into the conversation as well.
The Lovell Sisters are three sisters from Calhoun GA who play fiddle, dobro, mandolin and banjo and sing the purest harmony I ever heard from three teenaged girls. And they are not even out of high school yet. Well, one of them is.
They recently won a national talent contest and appeared on Prairie Home Companion and their career took off like a rocket after that. We are very fortunate to have booked them for a concert here at the church on September 24th. I want to take this opportunity to invite you to the concert and Martha, you’ll be my special guest.
Last question: Every religion has some notion of heaven or nirvana. Does Unitarian Universalism have any prescriptions for enlightenment to add, or would they defer to other religions recipes for achieving enlightenment?
Remembering that Unitarian Universalism is a non–creedal faith, the quick answer is that it offers no sure–fire way to heaven. Unitarian Universalism leaves creedal statements to the discretion of every individual. Note that this statement assumes the existence of heaven or the possible attainment of enlightenment, which is a subjective proposition itself.
What Unitarian Universalism does propose is this: If we cannot all agree on the destination, perhaps we can all agree on the journey, and perhaps we can draw strength form each other as we travel along. Sometimes, the process is more important than the product, the journey more important than the destination. And that’s a tough concept to embrace for western–educated, rational–based people like me. I often get frustrated with the process and I want to get right to the product, the answer, the solution. What I am learning every day is to appreciate the journey.
And now let me ask you a question: What hymn would you like to sing?
Announcements
The Book Club meets May 19 at 7 pm. They will discuss Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. Everyone invited.
A Different View is a program presented by the Unitarian Universalist Church of Surprise, Arizona, and hosted by their minister, the Rev. Dr. Walter Wieder. Each Sunday afternoon between 3 and 4, the program looks at different ethical, theological, spiritual and religious issues with the goal of understanding more clearly the differences we genuinely hold and the common ground we share.
The show may be heard on the internet at <www.1010kxxt.com>. In the upper right hand corner of the screen is a place to click for streaming audio of the show. There is a toll free number for call in (it is a call in show) and that is 888/294-4321.
Please remember to send your announcements to the church by Thursday for inclusion in the Sunday service.
Link to this Service
May 08, 2005
Your Mother Should Know
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 those who need a little extra support when standing. After the service, please join us for coffee and conversation.
Today our service honors mothers, would-be mothers, wise women and women old enough to be your mother. As you entered the sanctuary, the usher handed you a 3x5 card. We’d like you write down a little something your mother taught you that guides your life today, a lesson you’ll never forget. If you can’t do that, then something you learned from a wise woman old enough to be your mother. We’ll use your responses later in the service.
To begin our service, Linda chose a song sung by a father, but about something both a mother and a father feel, and that’s a wistful joy at seeing children grow up. This is “Sunrise, Sunset,” from Fiddler on the Roof.
Kindling the Chalice
She who has power to open the womb
has done great things for me.
Holy is Her name.
Her mercy flows
through mother to child.
From generation to generation.
Her maternal strength
strikes at the roots of evil, and it departs.
She pushes the proud from the pinnacles of power
and lifts up little people.
She feeds her hungry children,
but those who are filled to the brim
with opportunity, She sends away.
She soothes all those who turn to Her,
remembering Her compassion,
keeping Her promise to
Her progeny forever.
Hymn 323, Break Not the Circle
Who’s a Mother?
I invite the young and the young at heart to help me determine who is a mother.
Good morning, children! What day is today? Right, it’s Mother’s Day, a day we set aside to honor mothers and those who act like mothers. Well, what I wanna know is how can we tell who is a mother? I had to get a Tennessee driver’s license. Do mothers get a Mother’s License? I see people this morning with name tags. Do mothers wear a mother’s tag?
Well, how do you know who’s a mother?
What about this? What is this? A pen? How do you know it’s a pen? [has ink, write with it] Well, my mother could write. She wrote me letters. And if she could write, she must have had ink, too. [not a mother] So you're sure this a pen? OK.
What about this? What is this? A clock? How do you know it’s a clock? [face, hands, tells time] Well, a mother tells time. If I asked my mother what time it was, she’d always tell me. And my mother had a face and hands. [not a mother] So you're sure this a clock? OK.
Now what about this? What is this? [It’s my mother] Your mother? Who said this was your mother? How do you know this is a mother? What does a mother do? My mother hugs me. Does your mom hug you? What does she say to you when she hugs you?
Do you know what today is? [Mother’s Day] Yes, this is Mother’s Day. Mothers deserve a special day because they do so much for us. Fathers, too. And the way mothers and fathers love and hug and care for us is how we should act as Unitarian Universalists. We should love and care for one another. Like mothers do.
Mother Knows Best
Mothers love us. They protect us. Mothers teach us lessons, and sometimes, we don’t really understand the lesson until later in life. It’s hard for four–year–old Alex to understand the reasons for getting a good night’s sleep. He’d like to stay up and play. But as we get older, we understand why Mom said, “OK, Buster. Time for bed.”
It’s difficult for us to see what mothers see. They see more than we do. But then, as we age, perhaps become a mother to a child, or a father, it’s easier for us to understand a mother’s wisdom. And that’s why I asked you to recall an important lesson your mother taught you or a lesson you learned from a woman old enough to be your mother. And actually, although most mothers in this world are women, it need not be so. A man can be a mother too.
And if you remembered to bring a photo of your mother, or if you don’t have one, a photo of a woman who could have been your mother, you can place them up here on the altar.
Let’s take this half of the congregation over here. Please line up at the microphone and tell us about the lesson you learned from your mother. Or step mother. Or would–be mother. Or someone who could have been your mother. Or someone who was a mothering figure to you.
Offertory: In My Daughter’s Eyes
I did a little research on this song and I was surprised to discover that the songwriter was not writing from personal experience. The lyrics seemed so personal. Furthermore, I was surprised to learn it was written by a man. I had heard it sung only by a woman, so that gave me notions about it. Then Kate pointed out that it’s not gender–specific, that it could be, “In My Son’s Eyes.” This song celebrates the relationship between a child and parent. So whether you are a child or a parent, it speaks to human experience, a universal human experience.
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see—
she was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be in my daughter’s eyes
In my daughter’s eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light and the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me gives me
strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe in my daughter’s eyes
And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It’s hangin’ on when your heart has had enough
It’s giving more when you feel like giving up
I’ve seen the light—it’s in my daughter’s eyes
In my daughter’s eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she’ll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I’m gone I hope you see how happy she made me
For I’ll be there—in my daughter’s eyes
The farmer, poet, novelist, conservationist and teacher, Wendell Berry, is a lover of the land. His appreciation and love for the land is expressed in both his life and works.
Berry was born in New Castle, Kentucky, in 1934. He grew up in the cycle of tobacco growing, cultivation, and marketing. In 1956, Berry received a BA in English from the University of Kentucky and his MA a year later. From 1957 to 1959, he taught at Georgetown College. In the early 60's he accepted a teaching position in the English Department at the University of Kentucky, where he teaches today.
He lives on a 125 acre farm where his family has lived since the early 1800's. Berry is the fifth generation of his father’s family and the sixth of his mother’s to farm in Henry County, Kentucky. He does not have a modern toilet; instead he has a privy in the back yard. Another technology he does without is a computer. He writes his works with a pencil and then his wife revises and types then on a manual typewriter. Tractors are not used to plow his fields, either. Berry uses a team of draft horses in replace of “Exhaust-stinking, engine-roaring, gasoline-guzzling tractors,” as he puts it.
Much of his writing focuses on his relationship with the land. But this poem is about his relationship with his mother.
do you remember? Sometimes
I wonder if you do remember,
so complete has your forgiveness been.
So complete has your forgiveness been
I wonder sometimes if it did not
precede my wrong, and I erred,
safe found, within your love,
prepared ahead of me,
the way home, or my bed at night,
so that almost I should forgive you,
who perhaps foresaw the worst that I might do,
and forgave before I could act,
causing me to smile now,
looking back, to see how paltry was my worst,
compared to your forgiveness of it already given.
And this, then, is the vision of that Heaven
of which we have heard,
where those who love each other
have forgiven each other,
where, for that, the leaves are green,
the light a music in the air,
and all is unentangled,
and all is undismayed.
Mother Knows Best
And now, let’s hear from the rest of you about the lesson Mom taught you, or the one you learned from Aunt Sue or Uncle Mike. Bring your photo with you, if you brought one.
Your Mother Should Know
The title of my sermon is Your Mother Should Know, which is the title of a song by the Beatles. If you listened to it, you’d know it’s more the work of Paul McCartney than John Lennon. And the song really doesn’t have anything to do with the knowledge that mothers have. The words are:
that was a hit before your mother was born.
Although she was born a long time ago,
your mother should know,
your mother should know.
Funny thing about writing sermons. Sometimes, I just write and when I finish, a title usually reveals itself. Other times a phrase or a word hangs around in my head until I write about it, as if the phrase is nagging at me to address some issue that I am not conscious of. This is one of those sermons. The title came first and I didn’t know why until after I wrote it.
So this week I sat down and tried to write a sermon to fit the title, I really did. It was an awful process. On Friday, I began to feel sick, I mean with a temperature and body aches. I think it was because I hadn’t written anything. But I managed to wring a few words out of my aching body and tortured spirit.
Then I read it to Kate. You may not know that a great deal of what you hear from me goes through a vetting process. Unlike federal appeals court nominees, my sermons get an up–or–down vote on the living room floor. What I had so agonizingly produced got a big thumbs down. And I am glad that she said it stunk, because it reminded me of what preaching is all about.
What I had written was a walk across a tightrope. Knowing that not everyone’s mother was June Cleaver, knowing that some mothers are more like Joan Crawford or Lucretia Borgia, knowing that some mothers will be present, that others won’t, that some mothers are unknown and others wish they were, knowing all the scramblings of mother–child relations, I wrote something that would include all, exclude none and generally be unobjectionable and unoffensive.
But ministers wiser than yours say that if I don’t offend someone, if no one objects to my sermon, then I am not doing my job. Preaching, they say, ought to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Ralph Waldo Emerson tells us that a good preacher deals out to the congregation his life—life passed through the fire of thought. And when my would–be sermon got a big raspberry, I was reminded of that.
So I threw out what I had written, because as Kate said, it was just drivel. She was only partly right. It wasn’t just drivel. It was bad drivel, not even worthy of a Hallmark card.
Kate suggested that I write a letter to my mother and tell her what's up with me now, because she doesn’t know. And my mother should know. And happily, my sermon title fit perfectly. I just didn’t understand that the title was being said to me, not by me.
Dear Mom,
Long time. So how’s things where you are? I’m doin’ OK.
The last time you saw me, in 1986, you were near the end of your life, dying of emphysema and I was at the end of my broadcasting career, dying of inspiration. They called me in the middle of the night and told me that you were gone. So I dressed and went over to that nursing home in Minoa. I hadn’t thought much about it, but writing these words, I smell again the urine and disinfectant.
You died in your sleep, they told me. The nurse removed your mother’s diamond ring and handed it to me. I went back home, moving through this event in my life as I learned from you: resolute, showing little emotion.
You didn’t leave a will, you know. As I am your only survivor, I suppose there wouldn’t have been much point to a will. I can’t remember now, but I think the small death benefit from the Red Cross covered your cremation.
It always seemed to me that you had the fondest memories of your childhood, you spoke of it with such a brightness that you didn’t usually have. So the next time I had the opportunity, I scattered your ashes off the Delaware Street Bridge over Fall Creek, right as it flows by your childhood home. I did what I could to get you back there.
I finally got to see Europe, like you did. Shortly after you died, I went on a year–long trip around the world. But I spent most of my time in Europe.
Remember those giant scrapbooks you made of your time overseas during the war? I wonder if you know that I pored over those scrapbooks dozens of times when I was young. I think I was looking for you, the woman who became my mother, trying to learn a little bit about you. Today, I still cannot understand what made you volunteer for duty with the Red Cross in World War Two. You, with the privileged background, you, with the private school, the horses and the Pierce-Arrow. You could have easily stayed home instead of slogging through Europe with General Patton.
From the scrapbooks, I never learned much about you, the woman who became my mother, but I think I caught the volunteer spirit from you and I thought you should know.
I mention the scrapbooks because I think looking so many times at all those postcards and photos and ticket stubs and programs and maps and letters and telegrams made me want to go to Europe.
Anyway, I had a good time there. Part of it was a honeymoon. Before the wedding. Lemme explain. I am re–married now. You never met her, but she says she’d like to meet you. Her name is Kate. We met in Syracuse, but before we married, we had a honeymoon in southern France.
You better sit down, Mom, there’s more. I am a minister now. Like in a church.
I never went back to broadcasting after I went to Europe. I wrote for awhile and I did all right with that. Wrote all about my trip for the newspaper in Syracuse. I tried sales. First it was clothing, then I graduated to cars. But I didn’t inherit any of Dad’s sales abilities. I wasn’t any good at it.
About ten years after you died, I began attending church. You know you never taught me much about church. I can’t even remember you going. Well, I didn’t go to the Catholic church, like Dad took me to. I went to a Unitarian Universalist church and I liked it.
One thing led to another and one day I got the bright idea to be a minister. And I find myself today writing so much. Every week, I distill about twenty hours of thinking and preparation into an hour–long worship service. Write and write and write. Kate says I spend too much time at the computer writing. But I like it.
You remember that newsletter you got in the mail, Verbatim? It was all about words and language? And remember all the crosswords and jumbles you solved? And remember all the Scrabble games we played? Well, I think all that has something to do with the writing that I do. I don’t know if it makes my work better or worse, but I know it makes me like it. And I thought you should know.
You remember Virgil Shepherd, don’t you? That odious, stingy, foul–mouthed, evil–hearted sorry excuse for a man who was your boss? I wonder if you knew that I was listening with both ears when you complained about his heartless management and hateful attitude and the paltry salary he paid you and the other women. I thought you did good work. I knew you did good work. You told me so.
I never forgot that and I thought you should know that it stayed with me and drove me to advocate for women’s causes. I’m active with a group called The Sanctuary. We provide housing, treatment and support for women with a history of drug abuse and prostitution. Every morning I get up at 6:30 to drive the residents to their program meetings. I do this because society treats these women just about the way Virgil Shepherd treated you.
One other thing you should know. We both know that motherhood was not your strong suit. You were always better at being your father’s daughter than your son’s mother. I am not complaining. I think you did the best you could with what you had. These days, there’s a lot more support for single mothers, and you probably could have used some of it.
What you should know is that I have been exposed to some pretty good mothers, so I kinda get the idea now. Where I didn’t quite understand mothering when I was growing up. I always thought you didn’t know quite what to do with me, so you did very little. Maybe that’s what you learned from your mother, I don’t know.
Anyway, I’m all right now. Things are going well for me. I am growing in self–confidence after years of self–doubt.
I just thought you should know.
Love,
Jeff
Please refer to your program for information about the life of this church.
The Interfaith Hospitality Network is once again active in this church from June 5th through the 11th. If you can prepare dinner, welcome guests or stay overnight, please sign up on the board in the fellowship area. We do this three times a year for families who are homeless. If you have questions, you can ask me after the service or call Monique Lewis at 847-1523.
You are invited to join the Book Club for a night of theatre at the Chattanooga Theatre Centre. The play is A Lesson Before Dying and the date is May 12th, Thursday night. Kate arranged a discussion session after the show with the producer and members of the cast. Call the Theatre Centre for reservations. The number is 267-8534.
Next Sunday is a Question Box Service, and it requires your participation. All you have to do is pose a question and either Dolores or Jeff will answer it. 3x5 cards and a box to hold the questions are on the round table.
Please send your announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in the Sunday service.
To conclude our service, Linda chose another song about children growing. This is “Turn Around,” by Malvina Reynolds.
Link to this Service
May 01, 2005
Old Time Religion / Flower Communion
Audio from Rev. Briere's sermon:
For All That Is Our Life
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Carolyn Moore and I serve on the Board of Trustees. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is avail-able downstairs in the nursery, and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for those who need a little extra support when standing. After the service, please join us for coffee and conversation.
Today we celebrate our annual flower communion. If you have brought a flower or bouquet, please place it in the large vase in the back of the sanctuary. And when you leave, please take another flower with you. Our service today is an auction service, including a sermon on a topic of their choice. Leslie Walters emptied her purse so she could be the high bidder and she wanted to hear something about pagan beliefs and the resurgence of earth-centered spirituality. Our minister, Jeff Briere, is happy to redeem her bid slip with this service. To accompany our service, Steve chose music by the Norwegian composer, Edvard Grieg.
Kindling the Chalice
RICH. Spirit of the East,
Radiance of the rising Sun,
Spirit of new beginnings,
Grandfather Fire,
Great nuclear fire of the Sun.
Power of life, energy, vital spark,
Power to see far, and to
Imagine with boldness.
Power to purify our senses,
Our hearts and our minds.
ALL. We pray that we may be aligned with You,
So that your powers may flow through us,
And be expressed by us,
For the good of this planet Earth,
And all living beings upon it.
LESLIE. Spirit of the South,
Protector of the fruitful land,
And of all green and growing things,
The noble trees and grasses,
Grandmother Earth, Soul of Nature.
Great power of the receptive,
Of nurturance and endurance,
Power to grow and bring forth
Flowers of the field,
Fruits of the garden.
ALL. We pray that we may be aligned with You,
So that your powers may flow through us,
For the good of this planet Earth,
And all living beings upon it.
LINDA. Spirit of the West,
Spirit of the Great Waters,
Of rain, rivers, lakes and springs.
Grandmother Ocean,
Deep matrix, womb of all life.
Power to dissolve boundaries,
To release holdings,
Power to taste and to feel,
To cleanse and to heal,
Great blissful darkness of peace.
ALL. We pray that we may be aligned with You,
So that your powers may flow through us,
And be expressed by us,
For the good of this planet Earth,
And all living beings on it.
MICHAEL. Spirit of the North,
Invisible Spirit of the Air,
And of the fresh, cool winds,
Vast and boundless Grandfather Sky,
Your living breath animates all life.
Power of clarity and strength,
Power to hear the inner sounds,
To sweep out the old patterns,
And to bring change and challenge,
The ecstasy of movement and the dance.
ALL. We pray that we may be aligned with You,
So that your powers may flow through us,
And be expressed by us,
For the good of this planet Earth,
And all living beings on it.
MINISTER. Mother earth, Father sky!
Weave for us a garment of brightness;
The warp the white light of morning,
The weft the red light of evening,
The fringes the falling rain,
The border the standing rainbow.
Thus weave for us a garment of brightness
That we may walk fittingly where grass is green,
Mother earth, Father sky!
Presentation of the Flowers
At this time, please present the flowers.
Our Flower Communion, a ritual in which we bring flowers to church and take home flowers brought by another person, is a springtime tradition in Unitarian Universalist churches. It originated in Czechoslovakia, where Dr. Norbert Fabián Čapek was a Unitarian minister and was introduced to the United States by his wife, Maja, in 1940. You can read a short history of this ceremony in your program today. These words are adapted from the prayer of Dr. Čapek for the consecration of the flowers at the first Flower Communion in 1923.
thy messengers of fellowship and love.
May they remind us, amid diversities of knowledge
and gifts, to be one in desire and affection,
and devotion to the community.
May they also remind us
of the value of comradeship,
doing and sharing alike.
May we cherish friendship
as one of life’s most precious gifts.
We pray that awareness of another’s talents
not discourage us, nor sully our relationship
for we know that whatever we contribute,
great or small,
that it is the concerted effort of all
which make the world a better place.
After the service, you may take some flowers home with you. Please choose flowers that you did not bring. Rise now and blend your voices in singing Hymn 78, Colors & Fragrance, which was written by Dr. Čapek. I suspect this hymn may be unfamiliar, but that shouldn’t deter you from singing right out. You’ll see it has a simple folk melody, and Linda says with folk music, it’s OK if you don’t sing the right notes. Sorta like jazz. We’ll sing only the first three verses. During the hymn the children are free to go to their classes.
Color & Fragrance [verses 1-3]
Candles of Community
Offertory: Sarabande
Do you know Sarah Bernhardt? She was a rail–thin actress with a devastating voice and a penchant for over–acting in overly– emotional roles. Madge Kendal was a friend of hers but complained to Bernhardt that she always acted in roles requiring such displays of passion that Mrs. Kendal felt she could not take her daughter to see her. Bernhardt replied, “But, madame, you should remember that were it not for passion, you would have no daughter to bring.”
Clergymen across the United States denounced Sarah Bernhardt from their pulpits as the “whore of Babylon,” which of course drove more people to pack the house wherever she played. The Episcopalian bishop of Chicago delivered a particularly effective piece of publicity, so Bernhardt sent him a note and a bank draft. “Your Excellency,” the note read, “I am accustomed, when I bring an attraction to your town, to spend $400 on advertising. As you have done half the advertising for me, I herewith enclose $200 for your parish.”
I bring you these stories of Sarah Bernhardt this morning because of passion and advertising. Have passion for what you do. Have passion for that thing in your life that makes you want to get out of bed in the morning, for that thing in your life that floats your boat. As Kate would say, “Don’t live a lily–livered life.” Have passion for what you do and you’ll do it well. And advertise your passion. Tell people what you do to make the world a better place. Shout about it, sing about it, make the rafters ring about it. Be proud of what your passion drives you to do and you’ll do it well. Passion and advertising.
We’ll collect the morning offering now for the support and 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.
Left to my own devices, I might not have written on the topic of our service today. And yet, the more I researched the topic and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. So I thank Leslie Walters for her suggestion that I preach about pagan beliefs and the resurgence of earth–centered spirituality.
At the last service auction I offered to create a service on the topic of the high bidder’s choice. Leslie Walters turned out to have more passion—and more money—for this item than anyone else.
Let me start with a definition. The phrase “pagan beliefs” refers to religions that developed among primitive peoples in several parts of the world. The populations of the South Pacific, Polynesia and Indonesia; the peoples of the Americas, the peoples of Europe and Scandinavia—all these cultures, in the time before they interacted with more developed civilizations, had developed religions that we would call pagan.
The word pagan comes to us from the Latin, paganus, which means a hick, a country dweller, an unsophisticated, uneducated, uncultivated, unenlightened, uncivilized coarse and brutish person who lives in the forest. And probably eats nuts and berries. You know, about one step this side of an ferocious animal. The word often occurs in close proximity to heathen and savage.
You might guess that pagan was an epithet, an insult. You’d be right. It was like calling someone a Unitarian in the 19th century. It was easy for the more developed civilizations, with their cities, their coins, their ships and technology to look down their noses at barefoot savages who ran around in skins eating nuts and berries. In the case of Christian missionaries, converted pagans were prizes to be gathered in hopes of a higher seat in heaven.
A modern equivalent to the way pagans were viewed is the cartoon images of hillbilly Tennesseans that we often see in the media. A month or so ago, when the Times–Free Press was critical of some backwards actions taken by the Tennessee legislature, the cartoonist drew the legislators as barefoot hillbillies, smoking corn cob pipes and wearing big floppy hats and one–strap overalls. Pagans.
In a very narrow sense, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, and any other non-Christian religion is pagan. That’s because the concept originated among Romans, who had converted to Christianity, and who spoke Latin. And it was through them and their legacy to western culture that we that we have the word and the concept today.
To be honest, I don’t particularly like the word pagan. It still has an aura of negativity that it can never lose because it was coined by people who felt themselves superior to others. It still has pejorative connotations and I really wish that pagans would coin another word for themselves. But I guess that’s due to my own culture and education, and I’m working on it.
People a lot more knowledgeable than me divide pagans into four groups. A paleo–pagan culture is one that has not been disrupted by other civilizations or other cultures. This does not include any known cultures. Indeed, this absolutely, by definition, cannot include any living culture, since all cultures have been disrupted by their neighbors to some extent or another.
A meso–pagan group, is, or has been, influenced by a conquering culture, but has been able to maintain an independence of religious practices. This includes Native Americans and Australian Aborigine Bushmen.
A syncreto–pagan culture has been conquered but adopts and merges the conquering culture’s religious practices with their own. This includes Haitian Voodoo, and Santería.
And lastly, we have neo–paganism, which is an attempt by modern people to reconnect with nature and to revive pre-Christian religions, or other nature-based spiritual paths.
Nowadays, at least in this country, when you hear the word pagan it probably refers to the last of those four divisions, neo–pagan, someone who holds beliefs in line with ancient religious practices, especially those popular before contact with the developed nations. More exactly, the vast majority of pagans in America practice religious beliefs that they have resurrected or re–created from the sparse histories we have of peoples living in northern Europe, especially the British Isles, before the time of Roman conquest. Which is understandable, given that much of our history and culture comes from England and Europe.
Resurrected or re–created. Quite frankly, we don’t know what the religion of pre-literate European peoples was like in the same way we know what the religion of 13th century France was like. They didn’t write it down. No paintings, no Bibles, no tapestries have been unearthed from that time. They did leave some fascinating structures behind, like Stonehenge and dozens of other stone circles and cairns, but they didn’t leave any owner’s manuals. We can make educated guesses; for instance, it’s unlikely Stonehenge was a hospital. It’s more likely that it was an astronomical observatory. But educated guesses and deductions are all we have.
The earliest history about pre-Christian Europe that we do have was written by. . .The Romans, the same guys who looked down their long noses at the pagans. So what they wrote about the people they despised is not entirely trustworthy. Because of the dearth of evidence what has been written is speculative history, in some cases passed off as fact and written to support the author’s agenda.
In fact, we have only glimpses of what pre–literate northern European culture was like. One glimpse of that time comes from festivals that survived the Roman conquest, like Yule and Samhain. Another are traditions that survived, like bonfires and characters like the Green Man.
Something about which everyone agrees is that the culture and religion of these people revolved around natural events. Natural events—the rain, the wind, the earth, the apparent movement of the moon, the sun and the stars, the change in seasons, the growth of plants, birth and death. As an ancient pagan, these were events that you could not control, could not understand and could not live without. They were bigger than you.
Think about it for a moment. You have no buildings, no cities, no postal system, no artistic tradition and no literature. You can’t read, even if you did have a book. You barely have a language, you barely have weapons and you barely scrape an existence out of the earth. You have learned to domesticate animals, you grow some plants to feed yourself and you have developed the rudiments of a society. You live a lot closer to the elements, a lot closer to nature than your average Roman citizen. Wouldn’t you want to worship and make sacrifices to the powers that control agriculture and the weather and fertility? I would.
And it’s not only pre–literate Europe where nature–based religions arose. We see examples around the world. Before they converted to Christianity, the Romans worshiped deities thought to control agriculture and the weather and the oceans and fertility. In the time before we developed a scientific understanding of our world, what kind of understanding could we have of something like the weather? Or the cycle of the seasons?
Some of what we know about ancient European culture comes from the western edges of the Roman empire. I mean England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. These were the last areas to be subdued and elements of their culture survived much longer than in other places, some people would say, even into the 20th century. So we can easily deduce some things about the religious practices of the Irish and the Scots.
I’m careful here not to use the word Celtic, because aside from the islands of Great Britain, the Celts lived on the Atlantic coasts of Spain and France and their culture is entirely different. So we can’t lump all the Celtic people together and assume they all spoke Gaelic and built stone circles like they did in the British Isles.
One of the things of which we are fairly certain is that the seasonal celebrations of ancient peoples were co–opted by Christian missionaries seeking greater participation in their Christian rituals. Thus we still have ancient pagan elements of mid–winter festivals associated with Christmas, such as bringing greenery into the home, making festive lights and the Yule log. These traditions are aimed at re–kindling the warmth of the sun, resurrecting growth at a time of apparent death and generally bringing the earth back to life.
Also in the spring, ancient symbols of new growth—eggs—are associated with Easter, an ostensibly Christian holiday. But spring festivals celebrating the return of the growing season have a much longer pedigree than Easter. The root word for Easter is aus and it was spoken in Germany and England long before the Romans arrived. It means to shine, like the sun. In time, it came to mean east, the place where the sun rises. I can’t help but think that the homophonic phrases, “the sun rises” and “the son rises” have something to do with the blending of spring festivals and Easter.
Even though the evidence is scant and the historical record is inconclusive, ancient festivals and religious practices are popular today precisely because people feel divorced from their natural world and removed from their roots as beings of the earth. And it’s not hard to understand why—just imagine the life led by an office worker in Houston or a salesperson in Louisville or the clerk at the Golden Gallon. Many people live in little apartments, concrete boxes completely separated from the natural world. I think it’s a testament to the power of our connection to the natural order that the earth still calls to people in a 21st century city like Chattanooga.
Here’s the thing that strikes me about pagan beliefs as practiced today: Because the evidence is scant and the history inconclusive, many rituals and beliefs are contrived, if not in whole, then in part.
People create rituals with little or no connection to ancient practices because they really don’t know what the ancient practices were. And I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. If you want to pound a drum at dawn and dance around a bonfire to encourage the power of the earth to grow your tomato plants, I don’t see the harm in it. Actually, it might do some good.
But if you believe that you are continuing the traditions started by ancient European peoples, that you are standing in an unbroken line from the dawn of humanity to 2005, I’d say you are kidding yourself.
Pagan belief systems are natural religions; they arose out of people’s experiences and lives and pertain to the natural world. Revealed religions are those which promulgate some set of revelations handed down by a god or gods. These revelations are often contained in the religion’s holy scriptures which, in turn, have been transmitted to the people by specially revered prophets of the god or gods. Major revealed religions in the world today include Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Sikhism.
Here’s the other thing about pagan beliefs: They are no more and no less believable than any other religion.
To me the beliefs of Christianity, Judaism and Islam are just as fantastic as beliefs in Odin, Neptune, Zeus and the gigantic stone statues on Easter Island. Think about this a moment. Pretend you are an alien from the planet Tralfamadore. You don’t know from nothin’ about earth or its cultures. You are handed a chart listing side–by–side the beliefs and stories and legends of all the religions on earth. Is any one more reasonable than any other? Is any religion convincing on account of its evidence? Is any religion preferable for any reason?
I don’t mean to mock any religion, but looked at this way, a burning bush that speaks is just as fantastic as a fish–god who rides around on a dolphin holding a trident and directing events in the ocean. A god–man who rises from the dead is just as fantastic as the Emperor of Japan, who is descended from the longest un-broken royal line in the world and who, before World War Two, was thought to be divine.
What I am saying here is that pagan beliefs that bring us in closer contact with the earth, the elements and the natural order of things are reasonable beliefs. And that’s a good thing. I think being in closer contact with the natural world makes us more human, more a part of nature instead of apart from nature.
So light a candle and pray to the four winds that they blow gentle on your life. Cast a circle and invoke the ancient gods and goddesses so that they might offer guidance and protection. Build a bonfire next winter and warm up that little space of earth that you inhabit.
In our worship services this year we have looked briefly at several religions—Christianity, Buddhism, Islam and Judaism. So it is a happy coincidence that Leslie suggested pagan beliefs as a topic because that fit neatly into the series. Exploring pagan beliefs is also appropriate because today is Beltane, a major holiday in the yearly cycle of pagan festivals.
Beltane is a word from the Old Irish meaning “bright fire” and it refers to an ancient Gaelic holiday celebrated around May 1. Beltane is also the modern Irish word for the month of May and in Ireland, May 1st is the traditional first day of summer. Beltane marks the midpoint in the sun’s progress between the Vernal Equinox and Summer Solstice.
Early Gaelic sources from around the 10th century state that people would create two bonfires on top of a hill on Beltane and drive cattle through the fires to purify them and bring luck. People would also go between the fires to purify themselves. The festival persisted widely up until the 1950s, and in some places the celebration of Beltane continues today.
A Beltane Fire Festival happens every year on Calton Hill in Edinburgh, Scotland and attracts about 15,000 people. Beltane is a specifically Gaelic holiday, not Celtic, as the Welsh, Bretons, and Gauls, do not celebrate it.
In the neo–pagan culture, Beltane is used for one of the eight solar holidays, which is celebrated on May first. Although the holiday uses features of the Gaelic Beltane, such as the two fires, it bears more resemblance to the Germanic May Day festival, both in its significance (focusing on fertility) and its rituals (such as maypole dancing).
There’s more to Beltane than I can cover in this service, but I do want to mention some things about Beltane that survive in our American culture today. One is flowers. In pre–Christian Rome, Floralia was celebrated from April 27th to May 3rd. It was the festival of the Flower Goddess Flora and the flowering of spring. On May 1, offerings were made Maia (Goddess of Increase) from whom May gets its name. Ancient peoples developed an appreciation of the beauty that the earth is capable of producing. At this time of year, we continue that appreciation with our flower communion.
Another is the election of a May Queen. In times past, especially in Great Britain, a young woman was appointed to be the May Queen and she personified Mother Earth and the goddess of fertility. Well, the May Queen is still around.
When I was a young boy in the Catholic Church, the Virgin Mary was our May Queen and we brought flowers to the church to adorn her statue and we processed around the church singing songs about how beautiful she was and how we loved her. The election of a May Queen in ancient times is related, I think, to the election of prom queens in the spring time at American high schools. And I’ll bet there’s some relation between the dancing at a prom and ancient festive dancing at the beginning of the summer. Just seems natural to me.
Lastly, in talking about spring time festivals, I want to mention something that we’ve only gently implied this morning. Sex. Much of what is behind spring celebrations is a desire to increase. A desire to increase plants and animals. And humans. In a very real way, Beltane is all about a fertility and fecundity. And doing all that you can do to be fertile and fecund.
Camelot is one of my favorite movies. At one point Queen Guinevere takes the entire court outside and into the fields to go “a-maying.” And she sings “The Lusty Month of May.” I won’t sing it, but the lyrics are an appropriate way to finish my sermon.
That lovely month when everyone goes
Blissfully astray. Tra la! It’s here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear!
It’s May! It’s May! That gorgeous holiday
When every maiden prays that her lad
Will be a cad! It’s mad! It’s gay!
A libelous display!
Those dreary vows that everyone takes,
Everyone breaks.
Everyone makes divine mistakes
In the lusty month of May!
Tra la! It’s May! The lusty month of May!
That darling month when everyone throws
Self-control away. It’s time to do
A wretched thing or two,
And try to make each precious day
One you’ll always rue!
It’s May! It’s May! The month of “Yes you may.”
The time for every frivolous whim,
Proper or “im.” It’s wild! It’s gay!
A blot in every way.
The birds and bees with all of their vast
Amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast,
In the lusty month of May.
Hymn 78
Color & Fragrance [verses 4-6]
Announcements
Please refer to the announcement insert for information about the life of the congregation.
Parents are invited to participate with their children in the making of a Maypole after the service. Today is May Day, and especially after this winter, the one that wouldn’t let go, we ought to celebrate the return of sunlight and warmth to our world. The Maypole will be outside, of course, and you can ask Dolores for more details fo the festivities.
The next two week’s services require some participation from you. It’s easy—all you need is a 3x5 card, and I have some right here. Take two of these cards—you’ll need one for each week’s service.
Next week, we will honor mothers, would-be mothers and wise women who could have been your mother. Please bring a picture of your mother if you have one, or if not, a photo of someone who would could have been your mother. Also, on the 3x5 card, please write down, in about 25 words or so, something your mother taught you that you remember today or an important lesson you learned from a woman old enough to be your mother. And bring the photo and 3x5 card to church next week.
In two weeks will be our Question Box Service. For this service, please ask a question. And Dolores or I will answer it. But ask it now, so that we have time to give you a proper answer. Your question is important to you and we’d rather not give you an answer formulated in the moment. The way to ask a question now is to use a 3x5 card. Write your question and put it in the Question Box on the round table. Every question submitted may not be used in the service, but any question with a signature will get a personal answer.
Children are encouraged to ask a question as well—their questions will be answered first so they can go to their classes. Dolores has a question box for them.
New members and anyone interested in learning more about this church and Unitarian Universalism is encouraged to sign up for a three-session class called the New UU. The class meets on May 3rd, 10th & 17th. You can call the office to register or use the sign up sheet on the clipboard on my office door.
Kate Briere is signing up people for some introductory acting sessions and scene study. This is like a book club discussion, only with live action. No previous acting experience is required—Kate will tell you everything you need to know. There’s a sign–up sheet on the door by the kitchen.
Remember to send your announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in the Sunday Service.
MICHAEL. Spirit of the north, powers of earth
Strengthen our resolve, keep us centered.
Help us be here, now.
Let our bodies be strong for loving each other.
Let the dizziness of the workday pass,
And we find ourselves together on one planet.
ALL. Blessed be.
LINDA. Spirit of the West, powers of water
Rain on us, quench our thirst.
Help us remember the ocean womb from which we come.
Now let all of us be connected.
Let our moods be flowing back & forth until all is one.
Let the drought of separation be over.
ALL. Blessed be.
LESLIE. Spirit of the South, powers of fire
Come into our hearts, warm us.
Lead us from hibernation, isolation, to greet each other.
Let passion glow on our birthright
As we fight injustice.
Let our emotions emerge from all their hiding places.
ALL. Blessed be.
RICH. Spirit of the of the East, powers of air,
Blow the staleness away, fill our lungs.
Help us bring freshness into our lives.
Let there be clear skies, clear minds for us to see our way.
Let our words create a safe space.
ALL. Blessed be.
MINISTER. Through our struggles let us learn to cast a greater circle—a circle of love & social harmony.
ALL. Blessed be.
Postlude: Rigaudon
Link to this Service