Sunday, December 18, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
"We Come to Follow Jesus, not Worship Him" By Mark Harris - December 11, 2005
“The Christian Path” or " We Come to Follow Jesus, Not Worship Him"
by Mark W. Harris
(Third in a series on Religious Expressions of Unitarian Universalism)
"We Come to Follow Jesus . . . " is attributed to Francis David, the famous Unitarian from Transylvania (present day Romania) who in the 1560's and 1570's founded the Unitarian church, and would not give in to pressure to say he would worship Jesus as God, and thus provided the ethical Christian foundations of Unitarianism.
December 11, 2005 - The First Parish of Watertown
Opening Words (Responsive) #653 in hymnal by Dori J. Somers
Reading - “Special Starlight” by Carl Sandburg
The Creator of night and of birth
was the Maker of the stars.
Shall we look up now at stars in Winter
And call them always sweeter friends
Because this story of a Mother and a Child
Never is told with the stars left out?
Is it a Holy Night now when a child issues
Out of the dark and the unknown
Into the starlight?
Down a Winter evening sky
when a woman hovers
between two great doorways
between entry and exit,
between pain to be laughed at
joy to be wept over --
do the silver-white lines
then come from holy stars?
shall the Newcomer, the Newborn,
between soft flannels,
swaddling cloths called Holy?
Shall all wanderers over the earth, all homeless ones,
All against whom doors are shut and words spoken --
Shall these find the earth less strange tonight?
Shall they hear news, a whisper on the night wind?
”A child is born.” “The meek shall inherit the earth.”
“And they crucified Him . . . they spat upon Him.
And He rose from the dead.”
Shall a quiet dome of stars high over
Make signs and a friendly language
Among all the nations?
Shall they yet gather with no clenched fists at all,
And look into each other’s faces and see eye to eye,
And find ever new testaments of man as a sojourner
And a toiler and a brother of fresh understandings?
Shall there be now always
believers and more believers
of sunset and moonrise,
of moonset and dawn,
of wheeling numbers of stars,
and wheels within wheels?
Shall plain habitations off the well-known roads
Count now for a little more than they used to?
Shall plains ways and people held close to earth
be reckoned among things to be written about?
Shall tumult, grandeur, fanfare, panoply, prepared loud noises
Stand equal to a quiet heart, thoughts, vast dreams
Of men conquering the earth by conquering themselves?
Is there a time for ancient genius of man
To be set for comparison with the latest generations?
Is there a time for stripping to simple, childish questions?
On a holy night we may say:
The Creator of night and of birth
was the Maker of the stars.
Sermon -
As I began to write this sermon on Friday morning, I looked outside the church window, and saw snow falling heavily from the sky. It reminded me of two things. Unitarian Universalism may be largely what it is today due to the influence of its most famous minister, and perhaps the most profound American writer of them of all, Ralph Waldo Emerson. On a snowy day sometime during the winter of 1838 Emerson sat in his pew at the First Parish of Concord. He was listening to what he perceived as cold, lifeless preaching from a minister who had the symbolically appropriate surname of Frost. When he wrote his Divinity School Address for delivery the following July in the refulgent summer, Emerson remembered that snow storm as real, and the lifeless preacher as merely spectral. Emerson said that he could not tell if this man had lived, breathed, was married, had children or indeed, anything about him. In fact, Emerson was at the center of a rebellion away from what was then called liberal Christianity. He rejected its forms, its traditions, its rituals, and even its history. The sermon or the central religious expression of the Protestant Christian tradition should be life, he said, life in all its passions and pains, breathed through the fire of thought. At the center of Emerson’s thought was that we, each one of us, has the ability to perceive and know divinity directly, and that even Jesus himself, the human God of Christianity, was true to what is in you and me. And the snow was significant because it was an emblem of nature, and it is through our personal experience of the natural world, and not Biblical revelation or tradition, that we come to know eternal truths.
This was powerful stuff in the 19th century, and it caused an avalanche of criticism to fall on those radicals we have come to know as Transcendentalists. But this questioning of fundamental Christians principles was not confined to Concord or Boston. Although it is sometimes hard for us to admit, there are enlightened people beyond the Rte. 128 beltway. There were also men and women in Europe who had come to understand human beings should read the Bible for themselves, and arrive at their own conclusions about what it says. They began to advocate the radical ideas of using your mind in interpreting scriptures, being tolerant and understanding of the many paths to truth, and finally being open to a free search for continuing revelations of truth. This was true of many people in England, where advocating a belief in a human Jesus rather than the Trinity of Christianity was against the law, and was punishable by seizures of property and imprisonment. One person who rebelled against a thoughtless allegiance to a church, and began to advocate for a Christian faith that was centered upon an ethical approach to living was Josiah Wedgwood, that most famous of potters, who became one of the most successful business people in history. Wedgwood was one of Charles Darwin's grandfathers. The other, Erasmus Darwin was also a religious nonconformist. His radicalism went beyond Wedgwood, when he ridiculed the Unitarian faith by calling it "a featherbed to catch a falling Christian." This featherbed analogy was the second thing the snow reminded me of. The soft cushion we lay upon as children to makes our snow angels. This was the way Darwin saw Unitarians; soft Christians who leave the old faith behind, to embrace a new faith that mollifies all the harsh doctrines of sin and salvation. So if, Unitarians were falling away from Christianity even then, in what sense do we have a relationship to Christianity today? Perhaps the most common question posed to Unitarian Universalists is, Are you Christian or not?
Although I do not remember the exact context, last year there were two occasions at church meetings here at First Parish, where I innocently referred to our congregation as Protestant. In both those instances I remember our members, who may be present today, responding as though I had misspoken. Clearly to them, the word Protestant evoked images of traditional Christianity, and its worship , beliefs and institutions, and was no longer a word that in any way identified Unitarian Universalists today. I was reminded of how sensitive many of our members feel about their relationship to Christianity. They may have grown up in a Christian church and felt its beliefs were irrational, its traditions authoritarian, and its methods shameful. They may have come to our faith because here you are encouraged to use your mind, discover those traditions which speak to you, and hopefully find understanding fellow travelers who believe in a universal embrace of compassion.
When I used the word “Protestant,” I was speaking as a historian, and was evoking the specific tradition we Unitarian Universalists emerged from. It could be that 60’s hippie in me coming to life again, but when I say Protestant, it does not evoke all those stultifying, guilt inducing, moralisms for me that some may associate with the old time religion of no dancing, no drinking, and certainly no laughing in church. While Martin Luther is hardly a person we would remember as liberal, he started what became a broader “protest” against the widespread corruption of the Catholic church, and produced a revolution in religious thought and practice. In many ways, we religious liberals are an embodiment of his belief in the “priesthood of all believers,” as fully revealed in Emerson’s understanding that we can each know God firsthand. So for me there is something in Protestant Christianity that stands as a protest against any injustice or bigotry that exists in the world. Much of the Unitarian Universalist protestant center can be identified with its continuing protest of Christian tradition and authority. Andrew Hill, the minister in Edinburgh says we are so thoroughly Protestant that we protest the very core of the Christian tradition, and its too frequent reliance upon hypocrisy and hierarchal control. The earliest Unitarians here in America advocated a broad Christian church that was not based on doctrinal conformity, but rather a fellowship that was open to many approaches to faith, and was ultimately grounded, not in conformity, but in freedom. So if we are children of the Christian tradition, we also protesters of that tradition as well. In fact some would say that we are so thoroughly protestant that the vast majority of our members do not consider themselves Christian.
That word protest also says something very relevant about our place in the world. Liberals have long said that our faith must be based, not on a salvation which lies beyond this life, but upon ethical guidelines for living that will result in a world transformed. Our understanding of Christianity was to have an active presence in the world. Universalists went so far as to imply that none of us would be saved, that is receive God’s embracing love, until all of us are saved, saints and sinners alike - a vision for one world. For these liberals you are most Christian, when you are living the words of the old hymn, “they’ll know we are Christians by our love,” and this was in fact the way Unitarians and Universalists came to define their understanding of Christianity. They invoked the words of Jesus - when I was sick, when I was hungry, when I was in prison - you came to me, you cared about me, you fed me. Unitarian Universalists embraced what has been called an ethical Christianity, one grounded in deeds not creeds. While our traditions and our cultural norms may be based in Christianity, and our sense of ethics and involvement in the world grows from Christian morality, we have mostly never been seen as Christian in the context of our beliefs.
This is true of the many ways we define the Christian message. For Christians the Bible has been the sole means of religious revelation, but liberals have come to see that there are many sources of religious inspiration, embodied in scriptures from all the world’s great faiths and other writings. For Christians, Jesus Christ has been the human conduit to the divine so that believing in him, and accepting him as Lord, brings an individual into the Christian fold, but liberals have come to see that there have been many great teachers of religious truths throughout history, and while Jesus embodied a great and genuine spirit of love and forgiveness, that ability, as we have seen in Emerson’s gospel resides in us, too. For Christians, a basic belief in God, or an all powerful spirit that brings purpose to life has been necessary, but liberals have come to understand that truth begins not with divine inspiration, but with human experience, and while some will hear a still small, voice of eternal truth, others will only find meaning in what we create together in our human and earthly communities. But there are those among us who look first to the Bible, and first to Jesus and ultimately to God for inspiration, and they have chosen to identify with the Christian path in our pluralistic Unitarian Universalist faith.
So you see the question cuts both ways. Historically we came out of the Christian tradition, but we have always protested its rituals and beliefs to the point of sometimes finding them bereft of meaning. It is our home, but most of us have never longed to return. Historically we have said the Christian message is about how much we love one another rather than how much we mouthed revealed words or propounded doctrines. A half century ago, the Universalists used to say we are Christian, but more than Christian, and they symbolized that with a larger circle, and in that circle of truth there was an off center cross. That cross symbolized where we began. The Bible, Jesus, the God of justice and understanding informed us. But then we discovered that faith is bigger than any one tradition - truth is found in many cultures, is prophesied by many teachers, and resides in the hearts of all people if they would only turn their hearts toward each other in warm embrace, and journey down a path of trying to understand each other. It could be for many of us that this longing for love and understanding, for building a holier sense of community began with Christianity, but we know now that it requires something broader and deeper, and that is why we have become advocates for Unitarian Universalism.
And yet, as Carl Sandburg implies in his poem “Special Starlight,” this story, this tradition at this time of year asks us all to return to the simplest, and most humble of origins. It is a time for stripping down to simple questions. We come to understand that the wanderers, the homeless ones are us, and that the religious quest is not to proclaim one truth over others, one way of life over others, but to open the doors to those who are shut out, and to speak words of hospitality to those who are shunned. The December issue of Harper’s magazine has a cover story article on “Jesus Without the Miracles” by Erik Reece. Reece covers familiar territory for Unitarian Universalists. He begins with Thomas Jefferson’s famous Bible, where that scissors wielding rationalist third President of the USA took the New Testament and literally cut out all of the miracle stories to give us a purely ethical Jesus. Here was the most perfect model for moral behavior the world had ever witnessed. Jefferson said that Jesus’ basic teaching had been distorted by a dogmatically oriented Christian church, and he advocated for an authentic Christianity as seen through Jesus’ amazing life. Yet Jefferson came to realize that most people who espoused Christianity were really looking for the ticket to eternal life, and were less interested in living such a perfect life. That was too hard. Jesus is trying to convince whoever will listen, to shake off the world’s distractions, and find that kingdom that is present within.
In the article, Reece goes on to look at the Gospel of Thomas, which early Christians tried to repress, and recent writers have rediscovered. Prefiguring Emerson, the Gospel of Thomas says that all of us posses some fragment of the divine light. We don’t have to find it only through the conduit of the Messiah. We, as Emerson later tells us, can find it within ourselves. In that sense the Gospel is present in each of us. It is a kind of radical UU Christianity, that continues to protest how oppressive the message and the institution became and is. Reece reminds us that the Christian church has traditionally taught us about out smallness - they dispense the truth, they dispense salvation through their boy Jesus, but Reece and Emerson helps us realize the true largeness of our nature; the divine beings each of us could be and is. In a way Emerson did the Christians one better, not by denying Jesus’ divinity, but by making us all Jesus’, all saviors, all divine. Some might argue that this is the pure Christianity that Unitarian Universalism has embodied all along. What’s clear is that Unitarian Universalists stand apart from much of Christian tradition, but if we can help Christianity see its protesting, ethical, transforming, universal light then we have played a key role in opening ourselves and our world to becoming more whole and holy people. Even if we are not Christian, may we continue to embrace its radical thinking, protesting, and loving truth, with its vision of who we can become, and what kind of world we can create.
Closing Words - from Edward Ericson
We stand with eyes toward the east,
Awaiting the rising of the star,
And pray that love shall become flesh,
and dwell among us;
And that compassion shall be born
in human hearts.
We celebrate the discovery of fact
in the garment of legend.
Let every cradle be visited by the three
good kings of Faith, Hope and Love.
Then Christmas is with us always,
and every birth is the birth of god among us,
And every child is the Christ child,
And every song is the song of angels.
To celebrate Christmas is to attest
the power of love to remake humankind,
May we be renewed in the love which can save the world.
by Mark W. Harris
(Third in a series on Religious Expressions of Unitarian Universalism)
"We Come to Follow Jesus . . . " is attributed to Francis David, the famous Unitarian from Transylvania (present day Romania) who in the 1560's and 1570's founded the Unitarian church, and would not give in to pressure to say he would worship Jesus as God, and thus provided the ethical Christian foundations of Unitarianism.
December 11, 2005 - The First Parish of Watertown
Opening Words (Responsive) #653 in hymnal by Dori J. Somers
Reading - “Special Starlight” by Carl Sandburg
The Creator of night and of birth
was the Maker of the stars.
Shall we look up now at stars in Winter
And call them always sweeter friends
Because this story of a Mother and a Child
Never is told with the stars left out?
Is it a Holy Night now when a child issues
Out of the dark and the unknown
Into the starlight?
Down a Winter evening sky
when a woman hovers
between two great doorways
between entry and exit,
between pain to be laughed at
joy to be wept over --
do the silver-white lines
then come from holy stars?
shall the Newcomer, the Newborn,
between soft flannels,
swaddling cloths called Holy?
Shall all wanderers over the earth, all homeless ones,
All against whom doors are shut and words spoken --
Shall these find the earth less strange tonight?
Shall they hear news, a whisper on the night wind?
”A child is born.” “The meek shall inherit the earth.”
“And they crucified Him . . . they spat upon Him.
And He rose from the dead.”
Shall a quiet dome of stars high over
Make signs and a friendly language
Among all the nations?
Shall they yet gather with no clenched fists at all,
And look into each other’s faces and see eye to eye,
And find ever new testaments of man as a sojourner
And a toiler and a brother of fresh understandings?
Shall there be now always
believers and more believers
of sunset and moonrise,
of moonset and dawn,
of wheeling numbers of stars,
and wheels within wheels?
Shall plain habitations off the well-known roads
Count now for a little more than they used to?
Shall plains ways and people held close to earth
be reckoned among things to be written about?
Shall tumult, grandeur, fanfare, panoply, prepared loud noises
Stand equal to a quiet heart, thoughts, vast dreams
Of men conquering the earth by conquering themselves?
Is there a time for ancient genius of man
To be set for comparison with the latest generations?
Is there a time for stripping to simple, childish questions?
On a holy night we may say:
The Creator of night and of birth
was the Maker of the stars.
Sermon -
As I began to write this sermon on Friday morning, I looked outside the church window, and saw snow falling heavily from the sky. It reminded me of two things. Unitarian Universalism may be largely what it is today due to the influence of its most famous minister, and perhaps the most profound American writer of them of all, Ralph Waldo Emerson. On a snowy day sometime during the winter of 1838 Emerson sat in his pew at the First Parish of Concord. He was listening to what he perceived as cold, lifeless preaching from a minister who had the symbolically appropriate surname of Frost. When he wrote his Divinity School Address for delivery the following July in the refulgent summer, Emerson remembered that snow storm as real, and the lifeless preacher as merely spectral. Emerson said that he could not tell if this man had lived, breathed, was married, had children or indeed, anything about him. In fact, Emerson was at the center of a rebellion away from what was then called liberal Christianity. He rejected its forms, its traditions, its rituals, and even its history. The sermon or the central religious expression of the Protestant Christian tradition should be life, he said, life in all its passions and pains, breathed through the fire of thought. At the center of Emerson’s thought was that we, each one of us, has the ability to perceive and know divinity directly, and that even Jesus himself, the human God of Christianity, was true to what is in you and me. And the snow was significant because it was an emblem of nature, and it is through our personal experience of the natural world, and not Biblical revelation or tradition, that we come to know eternal truths.
This was powerful stuff in the 19th century, and it caused an avalanche of criticism to fall on those radicals we have come to know as Transcendentalists. But this questioning of fundamental Christians principles was not confined to Concord or Boston. Although it is sometimes hard for us to admit, there are enlightened people beyond the Rte. 128 beltway. There were also men and women in Europe who had come to understand human beings should read the Bible for themselves, and arrive at their own conclusions about what it says. They began to advocate the radical ideas of using your mind in interpreting scriptures, being tolerant and understanding of the many paths to truth, and finally being open to a free search for continuing revelations of truth. This was true of many people in England, where advocating a belief in a human Jesus rather than the Trinity of Christianity was against the law, and was punishable by seizures of property and imprisonment. One person who rebelled against a thoughtless allegiance to a church, and began to advocate for a Christian faith that was centered upon an ethical approach to living was Josiah Wedgwood, that most famous of potters, who became one of the most successful business people in history. Wedgwood was one of Charles Darwin's grandfathers. The other, Erasmus Darwin was also a religious nonconformist. His radicalism went beyond Wedgwood, when he ridiculed the Unitarian faith by calling it "a featherbed to catch a falling Christian." This featherbed analogy was the second thing the snow reminded me of. The soft cushion we lay upon as children to makes our snow angels. This was the way Darwin saw Unitarians; soft Christians who leave the old faith behind, to embrace a new faith that mollifies all the harsh doctrines of sin and salvation. So if, Unitarians were falling away from Christianity even then, in what sense do we have a relationship to Christianity today? Perhaps the most common question posed to Unitarian Universalists is, Are you Christian or not?
Although I do not remember the exact context, last year there were two occasions at church meetings here at First Parish, where I innocently referred to our congregation as Protestant. In both those instances I remember our members, who may be present today, responding as though I had misspoken. Clearly to them, the word Protestant evoked images of traditional Christianity, and its worship , beliefs and institutions, and was no longer a word that in any way identified Unitarian Universalists today. I was reminded of how sensitive many of our members feel about their relationship to Christianity. They may have grown up in a Christian church and felt its beliefs were irrational, its traditions authoritarian, and its methods shameful. They may have come to our faith because here you are encouraged to use your mind, discover those traditions which speak to you, and hopefully find understanding fellow travelers who believe in a universal embrace of compassion.
When I used the word “Protestant,” I was speaking as a historian, and was evoking the specific tradition we Unitarian Universalists emerged from. It could be that 60’s hippie in me coming to life again, but when I say Protestant, it does not evoke all those stultifying, guilt inducing, moralisms for me that some may associate with the old time religion of no dancing, no drinking, and certainly no laughing in church. While Martin Luther is hardly a person we would remember as liberal, he started what became a broader “protest” against the widespread corruption of the Catholic church, and produced a revolution in religious thought and practice. In many ways, we religious liberals are an embodiment of his belief in the “priesthood of all believers,” as fully revealed in Emerson’s understanding that we can each know God firsthand. So for me there is something in Protestant Christianity that stands as a protest against any injustice or bigotry that exists in the world. Much of the Unitarian Universalist protestant center can be identified with its continuing protest of Christian tradition and authority. Andrew Hill, the minister in Edinburgh says we are so thoroughly Protestant that we protest the very core of the Christian tradition, and its too frequent reliance upon hypocrisy and hierarchal control. The earliest Unitarians here in America advocated a broad Christian church that was not based on doctrinal conformity, but rather a fellowship that was open to many approaches to faith, and was ultimately grounded, not in conformity, but in freedom. So if we are children of the Christian tradition, we also protesters of that tradition as well. In fact some would say that we are so thoroughly protestant that the vast majority of our members do not consider themselves Christian.
That word protest also says something very relevant about our place in the world. Liberals have long said that our faith must be based, not on a salvation which lies beyond this life, but upon ethical guidelines for living that will result in a world transformed. Our understanding of Christianity was to have an active presence in the world. Universalists went so far as to imply that none of us would be saved, that is receive God’s embracing love, until all of us are saved, saints and sinners alike - a vision for one world. For these liberals you are most Christian, when you are living the words of the old hymn, “they’ll know we are Christians by our love,” and this was in fact the way Unitarians and Universalists came to define their understanding of Christianity. They invoked the words of Jesus - when I was sick, when I was hungry, when I was in prison - you came to me, you cared about me, you fed me. Unitarian Universalists embraced what has been called an ethical Christianity, one grounded in deeds not creeds. While our traditions and our cultural norms may be based in Christianity, and our sense of ethics and involvement in the world grows from Christian morality, we have mostly never been seen as Christian in the context of our beliefs.
This is true of the many ways we define the Christian message. For Christians the Bible has been the sole means of religious revelation, but liberals have come to see that there are many sources of religious inspiration, embodied in scriptures from all the world’s great faiths and other writings. For Christians, Jesus Christ has been the human conduit to the divine so that believing in him, and accepting him as Lord, brings an individual into the Christian fold, but liberals have come to see that there have been many great teachers of religious truths throughout history, and while Jesus embodied a great and genuine spirit of love and forgiveness, that ability, as we have seen in Emerson’s gospel resides in us, too. For Christians, a basic belief in God, or an all powerful spirit that brings purpose to life has been necessary, but liberals have come to understand that truth begins not with divine inspiration, but with human experience, and while some will hear a still small, voice of eternal truth, others will only find meaning in what we create together in our human and earthly communities. But there are those among us who look first to the Bible, and first to Jesus and ultimately to God for inspiration, and they have chosen to identify with the Christian path in our pluralistic Unitarian Universalist faith.
So you see the question cuts both ways. Historically we came out of the Christian tradition, but we have always protested its rituals and beliefs to the point of sometimes finding them bereft of meaning. It is our home, but most of us have never longed to return. Historically we have said the Christian message is about how much we love one another rather than how much we mouthed revealed words or propounded doctrines. A half century ago, the Universalists used to say we are Christian, but more than Christian, and they symbolized that with a larger circle, and in that circle of truth there was an off center cross. That cross symbolized where we began. The Bible, Jesus, the God of justice and understanding informed us. But then we discovered that faith is bigger than any one tradition - truth is found in many cultures, is prophesied by many teachers, and resides in the hearts of all people if they would only turn their hearts toward each other in warm embrace, and journey down a path of trying to understand each other. It could be for many of us that this longing for love and understanding, for building a holier sense of community began with Christianity, but we know now that it requires something broader and deeper, and that is why we have become advocates for Unitarian Universalism.
And yet, as Carl Sandburg implies in his poem “Special Starlight,” this story, this tradition at this time of year asks us all to return to the simplest, and most humble of origins. It is a time for stripping down to simple questions. We come to understand that the wanderers, the homeless ones are us, and that the religious quest is not to proclaim one truth over others, one way of life over others, but to open the doors to those who are shut out, and to speak words of hospitality to those who are shunned. The December issue of Harper’s magazine has a cover story article on “Jesus Without the Miracles” by Erik Reece. Reece covers familiar territory for Unitarian Universalists. He begins with Thomas Jefferson’s famous Bible, where that scissors wielding rationalist third President of the USA took the New Testament and literally cut out all of the miracle stories to give us a purely ethical Jesus. Here was the most perfect model for moral behavior the world had ever witnessed. Jefferson said that Jesus’ basic teaching had been distorted by a dogmatically oriented Christian church, and he advocated for an authentic Christianity as seen through Jesus’ amazing life. Yet Jefferson came to realize that most people who espoused Christianity were really looking for the ticket to eternal life, and were less interested in living such a perfect life. That was too hard. Jesus is trying to convince whoever will listen, to shake off the world’s distractions, and find that kingdom that is present within.
In the article, Reece goes on to look at the Gospel of Thomas, which early Christians tried to repress, and recent writers have rediscovered. Prefiguring Emerson, the Gospel of Thomas says that all of us posses some fragment of the divine light. We don’t have to find it only through the conduit of the Messiah. We, as Emerson later tells us, can find it within ourselves. In that sense the Gospel is present in each of us. It is a kind of radical UU Christianity, that continues to protest how oppressive the message and the institution became and is. Reece reminds us that the Christian church has traditionally taught us about out smallness - they dispense the truth, they dispense salvation through their boy Jesus, but Reece and Emerson helps us realize the true largeness of our nature; the divine beings each of us could be and is. In a way Emerson did the Christians one better, not by denying Jesus’ divinity, but by making us all Jesus’, all saviors, all divine. Some might argue that this is the pure Christianity that Unitarian Universalism has embodied all along. What’s clear is that Unitarian Universalists stand apart from much of Christian tradition, but if we can help Christianity see its protesting, ethical, transforming, universal light then we have played a key role in opening ourselves and our world to becoming more whole and holy people. Even if we are not Christian, may we continue to embrace its radical thinking, protesting, and loving truth, with its vision of who we can become, and what kind of world we can create.
Closing Words - from Edward Ericson
We stand with eyes toward the east,
Awaiting the rising of the star,
And pray that love shall become flesh,
and dwell among us;
And that compassion shall be born
in human hearts.
We celebrate the discovery of fact
in the garment of legend.
Let every cradle be visited by the three
good kings of Faith, Hope and Love.
Then Christmas is with us always,
and every birth is the birth of god among us,
And every child is the Christ child,
And every song is the song of angels.
To celebrate Christmas is to attest
the power of love to remake humankind,
May we be renewed in the love which can save the world.
"Proper Preparations" by Mark Harris - Dec. 4, 2005
"Proper Preparations" Mark W. Harris
December 4, 2005 First Parish of Watertown
Opening Words - from Robert French Leavens
Holy and beautiful the custom which brings us together,
In the presence of the Most High:
To face our ideals,
To remember our loved ones in absence
To give thanks, to make confession, to offer forgiveness,
To be enlightened, and to be strengthened.
Through this quiet hour breathes the worship of ages,
The cathedral music of history.
Three unseen guests attend:
Faith, hope and love:
Let all our hearts prepare them place.
Readiings:
"Ox Cart Man" by Donald Hall
In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.
He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from the deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hooped by hand at the forge's fire.
He walks by his ox's head, ten days,
to Portsmouth market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.
When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold, he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,
and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again.
"Before the Birth of One of Her Children" by Anne Bradstreet
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow is sure to meet,
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend,
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you;
The many faults that well you now I have
Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory,
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead who long lay in thine arms.
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,
These, O protect from step-dame's injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse;
With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.
Sermon
One of my favorite Zen stories is about two monks who were on a long journey. They came to a river, and on the bank of the flowing waters a young woman sat. She said, "I am afraid of this torrent, can one of you carry me across? I don't want to be swept away." The first monk, remembering his vows never to touch a woman, completely ignored her, and waded into the water, finally managing to reach the other side. The second monk, not wanting to leave this poor woman alone and fearful, felt compassion for her and invited her to climb on his back that he might carry her across. He managed to cross with her although the rocky bottom of the river made it difficult. On the other side, he let her down, and she went on her way, and the monks proceeded on their journey. After some hours of traversing the road, the first monk could no longer restrain himself, and he burst out in anger, "You have broken your vows, how could you look at that woman. You went so far as to touch her, and even carry her across that river. You've put our reputation at stake." The second monk only shook his head, and then said. "I put that woman down way back there at the river bank. Why are you still carrying her?" In this story, the first monk is unprepared for being out in the world, for he still harbors his old desires, and this prevents him from responding to the need of another when it presents itself. But the second monk has absorbed his vows into his very being, and so he is prepared to respond to her, without worry about breaking his vow, for he has gotten past following the literal rule to a place of greater love.
How can we act with compassion in the world if we are not prepared to do so? When are we ever prepared for what will befall us? For most of us December marks the month when we are engaged in the most preparations of the year. Many of us prepare for the exchange of gifts with loved ones by buying countless books, clothes, CD's, kitchen utensils and chocolate. We wrap those presents with colorful paper and ribbons. We put up decorations and lights, and then a Christmas tree, evoking all of our family memories and traditions that we store in our hearts. We gird up our loins to be nice to the relatives we dislike, and to eat more food at holiday gatherings than our poor distended bellies can handle. In my family we have the nightly ritual I described in this month's newsletter - counting down the days, lighting the candle, giving to those in need.
Preparation, as we all know is true of Christmas, requires a fair amount of work. Things don't just happen if we are not prepared. Think of the labor intensive and cyclical preparations the New Hampshire farmer makes in Donald Hall's poem. Many years ago I attended the memorial service for former UUA president Paul Carnes. At the service, Carl Scovel told a story about Carnes when he served on the UUA?s Ministerial Fellowship Committee, our denominational credentialing board. One student came before the committee and delivered the most awful sermon; it was incoherent and rambling. Wanting to reflect his spontaneity, the student volunteered that he had written the sermon on the bus ride over to the meeting. Carnes countered, "well, you should have taken a longer bus ride." The same might be said of extemporaneous preaching. It can be very effective if the minister has done his/her research and practice to prepare for the day. Extemporaneous preaching can seem more direct and genuine and intimate to the people who are listening, but if it is just an excuse to speak off the cuff then it may resemble random brain dribblings. I know I always shudder when I attend a workshop, and the first thing the leader says is how involved he/she wants the participants to be. While I like participatory workshops, my first hunch is usually that the leader is ill prepared to lead.
I find that when it comes to preparation, all things are soon revealed. You cannot fool all the people all the time. This was certainly true of Hurricane Katrina. There may have been a plan to respond, but there was no preparation to put it into action. Then the government gave false reassurances that we were prepared, and this hiding of the truth led to even greater disaster. Our lives, and the priorities we give to things, tell us what we are preparing for. Some things we are never prepared for. Many of us have gone through the illness and death of a loved one. Especially if the person has a slow demise, we often feel we have had a chance to spend time with them and say goodbye. Even still, the actual fact of their death is something we can never really prepare ourselves for, because even in the last stages of life, the person is still physically present. So as prepared as we might think we are, the actual event still comes as an unexpected shock. It is also true that most of us do not prepare for our own deaths. In many cases we avoid preparations because it is a subject we prefer not to think about, as we either deem it is far off and thus something we will face someday, or an event we do not want to contemplate. Some people are more prepared and proceed to write their wills and sign medical directives. Yet I have heard spouses and children say, "I don't know if he wanted to be cremated or buried. We never discussed it." Planning for our own passing from this life is good preparation. We get to speak before it is over, and make our wishes known. And our loved ones are not kept in the dark. I recall one memorial service in Milton, where I met with all the family months before hand, including the person who was preparing to die. Talking with our family, and giving the church our plans is proper preparation.
Another instance of avoiding preparations are those aspects of life where we are constantly preparing but do not want to admit it. In our culture this is true of the war economy we have lived with since World War II. The continual build up of making and selling weapons has produced a state of constant war preparations. We are always acting like we are preparing for war, and so how can we ever say we are a nation at peace? This same mentality is borne out on the local level. Everyone is exorcised about the increased violence in Boston. Yet we also hear in those same newspapers that report the killings, about the availability of guns. It is easier to get a gun than it is own a dog. Since we are preparing to shoot ourselves, why are we so surprised when we actually do?
The way we live every day is a sure predictor of what we are preparing for. Like the preparations for war in the society, we also know it is true personally as well. For example, I smoked cigarettes for many years. For much of that time I was a single parent to a young boy. After I began dating Andrea and we made plans to marry, she would ask, "when are you going to quit smoking?" And I would respond, "after we have kids." This was effectively making my already existing son, Joel a non-person, but it was also a denial of reality. I showed no inclination that I was preparing to quit, and was not going to do so until the issue was forced. Most of us would express a desire to live a long life, but if we are eating improperly, and never get any exercise, we can hardly say we are preparing for the best. We may hope for good genes or luck, but there may be little preparatory work. Many of us never take these preparations seriously until there is something threatening us. We are like the alcoholic who always says, "I'll quit tomorrow." Sometimes it takes the threat of imminent death to make someone quit smoking or drinking. I know I have never had a diet that consisted of much consumption of fiber. Now in the wake of the standard over fifty years of age colonoscopy I have become a walking advertisement for the cereal Kashi, which has those high digit numbers of grams of fiber.
So the question might be, what will force us to be better prepared for the days ahead? If we want something, we should realize that it will take work to make it happen. We cannot prepare by wishing something were so. The famous adage from that baseball movie Field of Dreams sums up the need to make preparations. "If you build it, they will come." If you want something to happen, you need to have an actual plan to carry it out. How are you going to do this? How are you going to show that you even want to do this?
Following today's service I invite you to a discussion on whether you think we are prepared as a congregation to grow. Like those things we don't want to prepare for, growth in a congregation can mean change, which translates into this place might become something different from what I want it to be, or what it has been in the past. One thing that was comforting from the presentation by Ron Heifetz that several of us heard in Wellesley, was that usually when congregations move forward, very little actually changes, and we try to keep those things from the past that are the most wonderful. On the other hand, institutions that are not growing are probably dying. Growth can mean excitement - new programs to challenge us, and new people to get to know, sharing our message and our community spirit with more and more people can only be a good thing. I have identified four things that I want to talk about briefly that represent the best of being prepared. This is being prepared for becoming more spiritually engaged people, and ultimately a more engaged people becomes a more exciting congregation to be around, making people want to be here to share in the growth of that spirit.
Now getting prepared for something is not easy because it may mean facing difficult questions. It may mean changing as some new rules or system might go into effect. It may mean the death of something. There is no more silence about a taboo subject. It is so much easier keeping things as they are. Who wants to risk what seems comfortable and known? This is the very challenge Moses had after God told him to go to his people and prepare them for the Exodus, as described in the Bible. We?d rather be slaves, they said, then wander in the desert trying to reach some strange promised land. God has to find ways to even prepare Moses for this task, so he gives him the two miracles to work with, the rod to snake, and the leprosy to clean skin. And talk about preparation, he even gives him a back-up miracle, the water to blood trick. God wants Moses to know that he can lead his people through this great risk, this great change, and he makes sure that Moses knows he can do it. They have all the preparations they need accompanied by the right frame of mind. What Moses becomes assured of is that this is the right thing to do, and he has the confidence now to do it. We often don't want to face what we have to do, such as quit smoking or end a relationship or move on in some way, but we must prepare ourselves in whatever way is necessary to have faith, complete faith, that what we are preparing to do is the right thing to do.
So what are those four things that will prepare us, and our congregation for growth in the days ahead. First of all, we need to keep the house. If you are a visitor you want to walk into a church, and say, "what a neat place." Is this community informing visitors where to park, or where to go? Are children a welcome part of the community or are they absent? Does it look like the people care about what they are presenting to you? Think about this also in terms of yourself. Do you care enough about yourself and your future to take care of your body? If you exercise and eat right you increase the odds of growing older and wiser with each increasing year. And so we must ask ourselves as a congregation how much deferred maintenance do we have? The ultimate test is to imagine coming here as visitor for the first time. Does this space feel inviting to you, and if not, what would make it more inviting?
Now each of us has begun to think about preparing the body to last a little longer. What is going to help keep that body invigorated? We need to try new ideas and programs. We need a little excitement. Now the surest way to end the possibility to prepare for growth is to repeat the all pervasive nation wide adage, "we have always done it this way." This is the church creed that crosses all boundaries and informs each newcomer that there is only one way of doing things, and to violate this sacrosanct system would be a sin. The other killer is to pronounce any new idea as more work. I don't know about you, but I like to think about reading new books, and going to new places and meeting new people, and discovering and exploring, and celebrating all the ways that life is invigorating and exciting. Things do get to be work, when you do them that one way forever. That is why we change.
Now we are really preparing for some growth - the body is looking and feeling better, the mind is hot on new ideas and plans, but now we need to ask, who do we think about? Do we only concentrate on ourselves? It is very hard to grow in isolation. The church has a mission statement we created a couple of years ago. It talks about being a force for social justice by working with others. Remember our friend the Zen monk who can only think about his own needs. His friend can be compassionate for the needs of the woman without thinking about himself. She needs help, and he responds. It is about her need, and not about him. The person or the church that grows is not focused on themselves. The inner directed approach will soon result in a lack of meaning for the person or the institution. If we are not reaching out to others, if we are not making a difference in the community, then we are no more than a narcissistic social club without a vision or hope for the world. Preparing for growth means we have something meaningful that we can contribute to the larger world.
So we look at the body, we look at the mind, we look at how much compassion we have for the world, and finally we ask about the spirit of love in the community. Do we do things together? The world needs our vision of a better place, and we need each other to have fun, to care for each other, to respond to each other in our time of need. When I was saying I was going to quit smoking, I wasn't thinking about my son. I was thinking about me. Many of the preparatory things we say we need to do, but avoid doing for one reason or another show that we may not be thinking of the larger picture of our relationships with others, but instead are focused on ourselves. This means we need to take time to share what is important to each other. We build up a spirit of oneness by sharing our joys and sorrows. We grow as people and as community when we express our love, our friendliness, our spirit of hospitality with each other - Do we sing together with joy? Do we eat together with gusto? This is how we prepare - body, mind, world, relationships.
These are the ways we prepare ourselves, and prepare our community for growth. Strangely, they also feel like the way we might prepare ourselves for Christmas. We try to take care of our bodies at a time of indulgence. We try to nourish our minds by remembering what is important at a time of muzak and material overload. We try to remember those in need when we have so much. We try to remember those people who mean so much in our lives, and we realize we may not say thank you or I love you enough. The love we celebrate with the birth of a universal baby reminds us so glowingly of new life and possibilities. Anne Bradstreet speaks of both joy and grief in preparing to give birth. She has to prepare to let go of this tie to life in utero. Her loss becomes the gain of their ongoing lives, and she prays that any virtue she may have will live in their memories, in ongoing life. There is loss in change, but there is also growth in new life.
Long ago our Puritan ancestors used to speak about the heart prepared when they contemplated the coming of God?s grace into their lives. What they meant was that before they became truly faithful people, they had to prepare their hearts. As with most things religious, they did not take this lightly. Proper preparation preceded a personal crisis. It is the deepest reflection on what I need to do to be more spiritually whole - how can I get my body, my mind, my heart, my relationships, my vision for the world all in harmony, all pointing toward a vision of truth to myself and love for others? The Puritans got the phrase, "the heart prepared," from the Hebrews. Perhaps it was even Moses pushing himself and his people, to prepare ye the way, for going out from the comfortable slavery of Egypt to the risk of growth in the promised land. The season of Advent reminds us that we all need time to prepare. Time to reflect on what we might give birth to in our lives. How could we live deeper, fuller lives, and what we could we bring forth to make that happen? This is the season to prepare the heart.
Closing Words - from Stopford Brooke
The first thing to be said is that whatever religious faith, feelings and hopes we have, we are bound to shape them into form in life, not only at home, but in the work we do in the world. Whatever we feel justly we ought to shape; whatever we think, to give it clear form; whatever we have inside of us, our duty is to mould it outside of ourselves into clear speech or act, which, if it be loving, will be luminous.
December 4, 2005 First Parish of Watertown
Opening Words - from Robert French Leavens
Holy and beautiful the custom which brings us together,
In the presence of the Most High:
To face our ideals,
To remember our loved ones in absence
To give thanks, to make confession, to offer forgiveness,
To be enlightened, and to be strengthened.
Through this quiet hour breathes the worship of ages,
The cathedral music of history.
Three unseen guests attend:
Faith, hope and love:
Let all our hearts prepare them place.
Readiings:
"Ox Cart Man" by Donald Hall
In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.
He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from the deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hooped by hand at the forge's fire.
He walks by his ox's head, ten days,
to Portsmouth market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.
When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold, he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,
and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again.
"Before the Birth of One of Her Children" by Anne Bradstreet
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow is sure to meet,
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend,
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you;
The many faults that well you now I have
Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory,
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead who long lay in thine arms.
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,
These, O protect from step-dame's injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse;
With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.
Sermon
One of my favorite Zen stories is about two monks who were on a long journey. They came to a river, and on the bank of the flowing waters a young woman sat. She said, "I am afraid of this torrent, can one of you carry me across? I don't want to be swept away." The first monk, remembering his vows never to touch a woman, completely ignored her, and waded into the water, finally managing to reach the other side. The second monk, not wanting to leave this poor woman alone and fearful, felt compassion for her and invited her to climb on his back that he might carry her across. He managed to cross with her although the rocky bottom of the river made it difficult. On the other side, he let her down, and she went on her way, and the monks proceeded on their journey. After some hours of traversing the road, the first monk could no longer restrain himself, and he burst out in anger, "You have broken your vows, how could you look at that woman. You went so far as to touch her, and even carry her across that river. You've put our reputation at stake." The second monk only shook his head, and then said. "I put that woman down way back there at the river bank. Why are you still carrying her?" In this story, the first monk is unprepared for being out in the world, for he still harbors his old desires, and this prevents him from responding to the need of another when it presents itself. But the second monk has absorbed his vows into his very being, and so he is prepared to respond to her, without worry about breaking his vow, for he has gotten past following the literal rule to a place of greater love.
How can we act with compassion in the world if we are not prepared to do so? When are we ever prepared for what will befall us? For most of us December marks the month when we are engaged in the most preparations of the year. Many of us prepare for the exchange of gifts with loved ones by buying countless books, clothes, CD's, kitchen utensils and chocolate. We wrap those presents with colorful paper and ribbons. We put up decorations and lights, and then a Christmas tree, evoking all of our family memories and traditions that we store in our hearts. We gird up our loins to be nice to the relatives we dislike, and to eat more food at holiday gatherings than our poor distended bellies can handle. In my family we have the nightly ritual I described in this month's newsletter - counting down the days, lighting the candle, giving to those in need.
Preparation, as we all know is true of Christmas, requires a fair amount of work. Things don't just happen if we are not prepared. Think of the labor intensive and cyclical preparations the New Hampshire farmer makes in Donald Hall's poem. Many years ago I attended the memorial service for former UUA president Paul Carnes. At the service, Carl Scovel told a story about Carnes when he served on the UUA?s Ministerial Fellowship Committee, our denominational credentialing board. One student came before the committee and delivered the most awful sermon; it was incoherent and rambling. Wanting to reflect his spontaneity, the student volunteered that he had written the sermon on the bus ride over to the meeting. Carnes countered, "well, you should have taken a longer bus ride." The same might be said of extemporaneous preaching. It can be very effective if the minister has done his/her research and practice to prepare for the day. Extemporaneous preaching can seem more direct and genuine and intimate to the people who are listening, but if it is just an excuse to speak off the cuff then it may resemble random brain dribblings. I know I always shudder when I attend a workshop, and the first thing the leader says is how involved he/she wants the participants to be. While I like participatory workshops, my first hunch is usually that the leader is ill prepared to lead.
I find that when it comes to preparation, all things are soon revealed. You cannot fool all the people all the time. This was certainly true of Hurricane Katrina. There may have been a plan to respond, but there was no preparation to put it into action. Then the government gave false reassurances that we were prepared, and this hiding of the truth led to even greater disaster. Our lives, and the priorities we give to things, tell us what we are preparing for. Some things we are never prepared for. Many of us have gone through the illness and death of a loved one. Especially if the person has a slow demise, we often feel we have had a chance to spend time with them and say goodbye. Even still, the actual fact of their death is something we can never really prepare ourselves for, because even in the last stages of life, the person is still physically present. So as prepared as we might think we are, the actual event still comes as an unexpected shock. It is also true that most of us do not prepare for our own deaths. In many cases we avoid preparations because it is a subject we prefer not to think about, as we either deem it is far off and thus something we will face someday, or an event we do not want to contemplate. Some people are more prepared and proceed to write their wills and sign medical directives. Yet I have heard spouses and children say, "I don't know if he wanted to be cremated or buried. We never discussed it." Planning for our own passing from this life is good preparation. We get to speak before it is over, and make our wishes known. And our loved ones are not kept in the dark. I recall one memorial service in Milton, where I met with all the family months before hand, including the person who was preparing to die. Talking with our family, and giving the church our plans is proper preparation.
Another instance of avoiding preparations are those aspects of life where we are constantly preparing but do not want to admit it. In our culture this is true of the war economy we have lived with since World War II. The continual build up of making and selling weapons has produced a state of constant war preparations. We are always acting like we are preparing for war, and so how can we ever say we are a nation at peace? This same mentality is borne out on the local level. Everyone is exorcised about the increased violence in Boston. Yet we also hear in those same newspapers that report the killings, about the availability of guns. It is easier to get a gun than it is own a dog. Since we are preparing to shoot ourselves, why are we so surprised when we actually do?
The way we live every day is a sure predictor of what we are preparing for. Like the preparations for war in the society, we also know it is true personally as well. For example, I smoked cigarettes for many years. For much of that time I was a single parent to a young boy. After I began dating Andrea and we made plans to marry, she would ask, "when are you going to quit smoking?" And I would respond, "after we have kids." This was effectively making my already existing son, Joel a non-person, but it was also a denial of reality. I showed no inclination that I was preparing to quit, and was not going to do so until the issue was forced. Most of us would express a desire to live a long life, but if we are eating improperly, and never get any exercise, we can hardly say we are preparing for the best. We may hope for good genes or luck, but there may be little preparatory work. Many of us never take these preparations seriously until there is something threatening us. We are like the alcoholic who always says, "I'll quit tomorrow." Sometimes it takes the threat of imminent death to make someone quit smoking or drinking. I know I have never had a diet that consisted of much consumption of fiber. Now in the wake of the standard over fifty years of age colonoscopy I have become a walking advertisement for the cereal Kashi, which has those high digit numbers of grams of fiber.
So the question might be, what will force us to be better prepared for the days ahead? If we want something, we should realize that it will take work to make it happen. We cannot prepare by wishing something were so. The famous adage from that baseball movie Field of Dreams sums up the need to make preparations. "If you build it, they will come." If you want something to happen, you need to have an actual plan to carry it out. How are you going to do this? How are you going to show that you even want to do this?
Following today's service I invite you to a discussion on whether you think we are prepared as a congregation to grow. Like those things we don't want to prepare for, growth in a congregation can mean change, which translates into this place might become something different from what I want it to be, or what it has been in the past. One thing that was comforting from the presentation by Ron Heifetz that several of us heard in Wellesley, was that usually when congregations move forward, very little actually changes, and we try to keep those things from the past that are the most wonderful. On the other hand, institutions that are not growing are probably dying. Growth can mean excitement - new programs to challenge us, and new people to get to know, sharing our message and our community spirit with more and more people can only be a good thing. I have identified four things that I want to talk about briefly that represent the best of being prepared. This is being prepared for becoming more spiritually engaged people, and ultimately a more engaged people becomes a more exciting congregation to be around, making people want to be here to share in the growth of that spirit.
Now getting prepared for something is not easy because it may mean facing difficult questions. It may mean changing as some new rules or system might go into effect. It may mean the death of something. There is no more silence about a taboo subject. It is so much easier keeping things as they are. Who wants to risk what seems comfortable and known? This is the very challenge Moses had after God told him to go to his people and prepare them for the Exodus, as described in the Bible. We?d rather be slaves, they said, then wander in the desert trying to reach some strange promised land. God has to find ways to even prepare Moses for this task, so he gives him the two miracles to work with, the rod to snake, and the leprosy to clean skin. And talk about preparation, he even gives him a back-up miracle, the water to blood trick. God wants Moses to know that he can lead his people through this great risk, this great change, and he makes sure that Moses knows he can do it. They have all the preparations they need accompanied by the right frame of mind. What Moses becomes assured of is that this is the right thing to do, and he has the confidence now to do it. We often don't want to face what we have to do, such as quit smoking or end a relationship or move on in some way, but we must prepare ourselves in whatever way is necessary to have faith, complete faith, that what we are preparing to do is the right thing to do.
So what are those four things that will prepare us, and our congregation for growth in the days ahead. First of all, we need to keep the house. If you are a visitor you want to walk into a church, and say, "what a neat place." Is this community informing visitors where to park, or where to go? Are children a welcome part of the community or are they absent? Does it look like the people care about what they are presenting to you? Think about this also in terms of yourself. Do you care enough about yourself and your future to take care of your body? If you exercise and eat right you increase the odds of growing older and wiser with each increasing year. And so we must ask ourselves as a congregation how much deferred maintenance do we have? The ultimate test is to imagine coming here as visitor for the first time. Does this space feel inviting to you, and if not, what would make it more inviting?
Now each of us has begun to think about preparing the body to last a little longer. What is going to help keep that body invigorated? We need to try new ideas and programs. We need a little excitement. Now the surest way to end the possibility to prepare for growth is to repeat the all pervasive nation wide adage, "we have always done it this way." This is the church creed that crosses all boundaries and informs each newcomer that there is only one way of doing things, and to violate this sacrosanct system would be a sin. The other killer is to pronounce any new idea as more work. I don't know about you, but I like to think about reading new books, and going to new places and meeting new people, and discovering and exploring, and celebrating all the ways that life is invigorating and exciting. Things do get to be work, when you do them that one way forever. That is why we change.
Now we are really preparing for some growth - the body is looking and feeling better, the mind is hot on new ideas and plans, but now we need to ask, who do we think about? Do we only concentrate on ourselves? It is very hard to grow in isolation. The church has a mission statement we created a couple of years ago. It talks about being a force for social justice by working with others. Remember our friend the Zen monk who can only think about his own needs. His friend can be compassionate for the needs of the woman without thinking about himself. She needs help, and he responds. It is about her need, and not about him. The person or the church that grows is not focused on themselves. The inner directed approach will soon result in a lack of meaning for the person or the institution. If we are not reaching out to others, if we are not making a difference in the community, then we are no more than a narcissistic social club without a vision or hope for the world. Preparing for growth means we have something meaningful that we can contribute to the larger world.
So we look at the body, we look at the mind, we look at how much compassion we have for the world, and finally we ask about the spirit of love in the community. Do we do things together? The world needs our vision of a better place, and we need each other to have fun, to care for each other, to respond to each other in our time of need. When I was saying I was going to quit smoking, I wasn't thinking about my son. I was thinking about me. Many of the preparatory things we say we need to do, but avoid doing for one reason or another show that we may not be thinking of the larger picture of our relationships with others, but instead are focused on ourselves. This means we need to take time to share what is important to each other. We build up a spirit of oneness by sharing our joys and sorrows. We grow as people and as community when we express our love, our friendliness, our spirit of hospitality with each other - Do we sing together with joy? Do we eat together with gusto? This is how we prepare - body, mind, world, relationships.
These are the ways we prepare ourselves, and prepare our community for growth. Strangely, they also feel like the way we might prepare ourselves for Christmas. We try to take care of our bodies at a time of indulgence. We try to nourish our minds by remembering what is important at a time of muzak and material overload. We try to remember those in need when we have so much. We try to remember those people who mean so much in our lives, and we realize we may not say thank you or I love you enough. The love we celebrate with the birth of a universal baby reminds us so glowingly of new life and possibilities. Anne Bradstreet speaks of both joy and grief in preparing to give birth. She has to prepare to let go of this tie to life in utero. Her loss becomes the gain of their ongoing lives, and she prays that any virtue she may have will live in their memories, in ongoing life. There is loss in change, but there is also growth in new life.
Long ago our Puritan ancestors used to speak about the heart prepared when they contemplated the coming of God?s grace into their lives. What they meant was that before they became truly faithful people, they had to prepare their hearts. As with most things religious, they did not take this lightly. Proper preparation preceded a personal crisis. It is the deepest reflection on what I need to do to be more spiritually whole - how can I get my body, my mind, my heart, my relationships, my vision for the world all in harmony, all pointing toward a vision of truth to myself and love for others? The Puritans got the phrase, "the heart prepared," from the Hebrews. Perhaps it was even Moses pushing himself and his people, to prepare ye the way, for going out from the comfortable slavery of Egypt to the risk of growth in the promised land. The season of Advent reminds us that we all need time to prepare. Time to reflect on what we might give birth to in our lives. How could we live deeper, fuller lives, and what we could we bring forth to make that happen? This is the season to prepare the heart.
Closing Words - from Stopford Brooke
The first thing to be said is that whatever religious faith, feelings and hopes we have, we are bound to shape them into form in life, not only at home, but in the work we do in the world. Whatever we feel justly we ought to shape; whatever we think, to give it clear form; whatever we have inside of us, our duty is to mould it outside of ourselves into clear speech or act, which, if it be loving, will be luminous.