|
||||
| ||||
|
|
In the Beginning and Beginning Again October 9, 2005 The Reverend Heather Janules Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church Bethesda, Maryland Opening Words: by David Blanchard (Abridged and Adapted) Come down off the ladder. Get up off your muddy knees, And give the garden the morning off. Close up your calendar, Already filled with dates, and times, and people, and places that claim you. This church is ready for you to fill its rooms, To create its spirit, to generate its warmth, To kindle its light. This church is ready for you to be here. This is the church we dream and build together. Let us begin. #637 A Litany of Atonement For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time we have struck out in anger without just cause We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For the selfishness which sets us apart and alone We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For losing sight of our unity We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of separateness We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. Sermon About two months before I began serving Cedar Lane as your Assistant Minister, I had the pleasure of attending one of the summer worship services here. After the service, I ran into Roger, our senior minister, who said to me “You already have a mailbox. And you have mail.” The sermon that morning was titled “The Secret of the Universe Revealed,” a wonderful sermon by our own John Kelly. But when Roger told me that I had mail waiting for me, in that moment I was content to just find out the contents of my mailbox. Who has already sent me a message? I thought. The secret of the universe could wait. When I emptied my new mailbox, I was disappointed by what I found - some brochures from local nursing homes, a few newsletters from churches I have never visited, a letter addressed to someone else. But I did find something that really caught my attention - the proposed preaching schedule for this church year. As I reviewed the schedule, I looked to see which Sunday would be my first Sunday in the pulpit. I saw that it was today, October 9, 2005. I also saw that it was a day to reflect on many things. Today, October 9, is the Sunday of Columbus Day weekend, a time reserved to commemorate Christopher Columbus’ discovery of America. Some spend Columbus Day protesting Columbus’ brutal colonization of the native peoples he “discovered” and the denial of these people’s suffering throughout history. Today is the day before Columbus Day or the day before Indigenous People’s Day, depending on who you talk to. Today is also one of the Jewish High Holy days bridging Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Throughout these Days of Repentance, Jews reconcile with one another and repent for their sins, in preparation for Yom Kippur—the annual day to reconcile with God. During the High Holy Days, Jews prepare themselves spiritually to begin a new year with a pure soul. Yom Kippur is the most important holiday in the Jewish calendar, a yearly practice of beginning again. Today is also the Sunday that precedes October 11, National Coming Out day, a time to affirm gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people living their lives openly and honestly. Some choose National Coming Out Day as the day to tell their acquaintances, friends and loved ones about their sexual or gender orientation. And, the preaching schedule told me, October 9 is also Young Adult and Campus Ministry Sunday, the Sunday that Cedar Lane celebrates the members of their faith between the ages of 18 and 35. Now, as practitioners of a free faith, Unitarian Universalists are not bound to a lectionary or the secular calendar. As the preacher in the free pulpit, I have the privilege to follow only my own conscience in what I share with you on Sunday morning. But there is something to be said for paying attention to the holidays and holy days of the ages. My favorite example of the calendar intersecting with congregational life was when the Unitarian Universalist congregation in Harvard Square dedicated its new elevator. The day of the Dedication happened to fall on the Catholic Feast of the Ascension. (www.philocrites.com, May 5, 2005.) Coincidence or not, sometimes the calendar drives the center of our worship life. Columbus Day...Yom Kippur...National Coming Out Day...Young Adult and Campus Ministry Sunday. What message is there in this intersection of events? I wondered. The secret of this universe was not so easily revealed. I was stumped. I approached this question intellectually. Surely there must be a story that links these events together! Surely some of the crew members of Christopher Columbus’ ships were Jewish...and gay...and between the ages of 18 and 35. Needless to say, this intellectual inquiry didn’t get me very far. What brought me before you today was a memory of another time that I was feeling stumped. When I served Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago as a chaplain intern, most of my duties involved meeting with patients who wanted to speak with a minister. One afternoon, I was sent to the room of a patient who we will call Mrs. Jackson. When I walked into the dim light of Mrs. Jackson’s room, I saw a tired, elderly African-American woman gazing out the window, looking out at the cement wall of the building next door. I introduced myself as the on-call chaplain and asked if she wanted to talk. Mrs. Jackson turned away from the window, sat up a bit and invited me to pull up a chair. Mrs. Jackson’s story was a sad one and, unfortunately, all too familiar. She told me about how, after decades of marriage and family life, she spent years caring for her husband who was debilitated by a stroke. Eventually he died of a heart attack. She was glad that he wasn’t ill any more but she hated his absence from her life. She hated grieving and feeling so lonely. And then it was her turn to become ill. As she lay in her hospital bed, her body battled a virulent cancer. I listened to Mrs. Jackson’s story and, when our conversation was nearly done, I asked her if she would like me to say a prayer. She said yes so I held her hand and together we prayed about her sadness and asked for healing. We prayed for her husband that she missed so much. We prayed for hope. As I stood to leave her room, I asked her if there was anything else I could do for her. “Yes,” she said, “tell me which chapter of the Bible I should read.” I was stumped. As the on-call minister, Mrs. Jackson probably assumed that I knew the Bible like the back of my hand. Unfortunately, this assumption would be wrong. What book of the Bible has a message for Mrs. Jackson? Out of the alchemy of inspiration and desperation, I made my reply. “Genesis,” I said. “It’s important to remind ourselves of the power of creation.” Genesis. The story of Genesis is, in every meaning of the word, incredible. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters...Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light...” (Genesis 1:1, New Revised Standard Version) If you are unfamiliar with this story, the heart of the tale is this - God creates the world out of nothing and the world is good and God is quite pleased. Incredible! But perhaps this story has worn out its welcome. Perhaps, like Mrs. Jackson, you know that there are some times in this world that cannot be described as “good” or that could possibly come from a happy god. Perhaps, in the words of one Cedar Lane member, you “believe in intelligent design but not an intelligent designer.” For you, I have another summation, a new story of Genesis by the poet Adrienne Rich: My heart is moved by all I cannot save: (#463, Singing the Living Tradition) Any way you look at it, we are called to remind ourselves of the power of creation. To proclaim the power of creation is not to reveal any secret. Within us and among us is the energy to create goodness in the face of destruction. If we did not know this, we would not bother with doctors or prayers or even using the word “hope.” If we did not know this, synagogues would not gather year by year in order to begin again in love. We would not speak the truth about ourselves even if the truth means risking all we love and our own safety. If we did not know this, we would not move to rebuild; cultures crushed by invasion, lives shattered by grief, cities swallowed by water. We would not leave the comfort of our homes on Sunday morning to gather in community week by week. But so much has been destroyed. And when destruction is all we see, it is hard to see the places where the ordinary power of creation waits for a beginning. It is hard to know what creation looks like, how those joined in the perverse task of reconstituting the world will make this vision a reality. It is hard to let go of all that we cannot save. I have been serving Cedar Lane as your assistant minister for almost two months now. In this time, I watched the Gulf Coast buckle under hurricane Katrina and the floods she unleashed. I watched our country’s most vulnerable citizens—the urban poor— suffer alone as they struggled in Katrina’s wake. In the first days of my ministry here, I joined thousands in protesting the relentless war in Iraq as the number of the dead, the American dead, the Iraqi dead, climb by the day. And this war is only one in an angry, violent world. As Holocaust survivor Elie Weisel said recently, “the liars still lie, the killers still kill and the victims die.” (NPR, the Diane Rehm Show, 9/14/05) And since I have been with you, I have heard stories, stories of personal loss–our own wars, our own disasters. I have been reminded of the countless ways that what seems so permanent can, in the blink of an eye, be destroyed. So much has been destroyed. So, in this beginning, creation is the message. It is a message and it is an invocation; an invocation to the god of goodness and light, to the poets and all people throughout the ages who remind us that for those who forgive themselves and each other, second chances are only the beginning. My invocation is to those who, age after age, reconstitute goodness in a corrupt and wounded world. I invoke John Kelly and Roger Fritts and the young adults and all the members and friends of this faith community. For we are called to remind ourselves of the power of creation and, most importantly, we are called to use it. My heart is moved by all that we can save. From this new day of beginning, from this time of beginning again, this is the church and the world we build together. Let us begin in love. Amen. |
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist
Church |
