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Teaching from the HeartRoberta M. NelsonApril 13, 1997Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist ChurchBethesda, Maryland
A few weeks ago in another church’s newsletter, the minister wrote about the return of a young woman, now in her 30’s who had entered the ministry. In her sermon she told the church that they had “saved her life.” A young man then wrote in response to the column saying, “Someone asked me why I remember the R.E. program so fondly or what my favorite curriculum was. I had to reply that other than ‘About Your Sexuality’ (which was truly memorable), I didn’t remember much of the curricula. I do remember being nurtured in a way that I was not nurtured elsewhere in my life. I remember it as a place that showed what school should be like. And I remember the church as a safe place even when my family was not. I remember talking to the minister when things were bad. Our talks reinforced my self esteem. I think the church saved my life, too.” In that religious community those two young people were “taught from the heart.” There is no guarantee that our young people will remember many of the curricula they are taught but I do know that some of them will know and perhaps write about the way that this community made a difference in their lives. In recent weeks I have had conversations with some of our teens who remembered teachers and classes they had when they were a young as five. I have had parents expressappreciation and gratitude about the way that teachers have “walked the extra mile” to work with their child when the going was rough. In our teacher training (not an appropriate phrase), I remind our teachers that they are a part of the curriculum and ultimately more important than all the material in the books and guides. Religious education ministry is about heart — a rich metaphor to describe what is at the center of our being. It is often used to describe what a person is. It has also been used as a metaphor for human affection. Mary Elizabeth Moore, in her book Teaching from the Heart, speaks of the heart as part of a complex system, warning us not to be simplistic and to realize that it relates to the body, continuously giving and receiving. She continues Teaching from the heart has to do with sending forth energy to every part of the body — and it has to do with receiving depleted energy, not to hold onto it or judge it bad, but to send it out again for renewal. Teaching from the heart is a gift beyond measure. This rich metaphor is about transformation and transcendence. In education jargon, I am talking about the “hidden curriculum” — that which is not written but which deeply touches all of us. I also have a need to tell you that some of this teaching is not easy or fun. I often have to remind people of all ages that it is not easy to learn to listen or share, to appreciate other people’s ideas, to have your negative behavior challenged, to learn about compassion, collaboration and cooperation. But if we take our UU purposes and principles seriously, if our goal is to translate them into faithful living, all of us will need to ask ourselves what does it mean when we say phrases like: •840•the worth and dignity of every person•840 •840•affirm and promote justice, equity and compassion in human relations•840 •840•affirm and promote the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process•840 I was reminded by one of our classes that living by those ideas is hard work, and she was not sure she would want to bring up her children in such a faith. Teaching from the heart has to do with sharing oneself and in getting to the essence of critical issues. Both are essential for the nourishment of religious growth. Education is religious. It is about calling forth, drawing out, it is about revering that which is known and that which is about to be discovered. Thomas Groome describes education as a “passion” for the people, a deep passion and caring for the well being of those we would presume to educate.” To revere is to recognize the sacredness of the educational drama and its participants. Robert Bumbaugh discusses teaching as “giving the student a feeling of being together with the teacher in a shared creative present time.” This kind of teaching anticipates the unexpected and responds to it. Maria Harris puts contemplation as the necessary foundation for a life of faithfulness. Harris says that good teaching is “steadfastly, but gently and graciously, attentive to what is there; it begins in stillness, and attitude of silence and reverence.” Children grow best when four conditions are met: •840•acceptance•840 •840•caring presence•840 •840•hospitality•840 •840•transcendence•840 I believe that all of us grow best under these circumstances. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who are here today for coming and by your presence offering acceptance and genuine hospitality to the young people who shared with you their thoughts and feelings and ideas. You ministered to them and blessed them with the message that they are important members of this community. In her book The Riddle of the Ordinary, Cynthia Ozick writes The ordinary is a hard case . . . it is around us all the time . . . the ordinary has got itself in a bad fix with us . . . we hardly ever notice it. The ordinary simply by being ordinary tends to make us ignorant or neglectful; when something does not insist on being noticed . . . We take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude. I believe that we need to be excited about the sacredness of the ordinary. We all learn from even the smallest acts of ordinary living with ordinary people. We need to honor the ordinary and to experience the joy and excitement of learning by living. In the most ordinary of circumstances, reaching out, overcoming a hurdle, putting thoughts together in new combinations we are transcending — we are going beyond our current thinking or boundaries. By those acts we experience new hope and affirmation that transforms us. A guest of Georgia O’Keefe observed the artistic attentiveness in O’Keefe: “Everything is done with full attention, even the precise way O’Keefe folded a silk scarf or a linen handkerchief. She’s not thinking of anything else. She’s right there folding the napkin.” Robert Fulghum, in his essay on the ordinary “Stuff” that collects under beds, dressers and couches, names it “cosmic compost.” After examining it, he learns that it is mostly from people and concludes that it is mostly “me and stardust.” Implicitly he is revering the ordinary. “The gift of the teacher is to revere the ordinary so much that it becomes extraordinarily ordinary.” Teaching from the heart is all these gifts and more. Defying description it is an invitation to know yourself, to be daring risk takers, to have courage and hope in the midst of despair, to heal the brokeness, to seek justice, to cultivate a spiritual life. These are not ordinary gifts because they invite our response! Others Told Me Others told me what I could not do. “These are your limits,” They would say, “Expect to achieve this, But not this; You are really very ordinary.” But you never told me what I could not do. You expected me to dream dreams And follow them across the rainbow, But you never told me What those dreams would be. Sure enough, I have dreamed many dreams And I have followed them Along paths soft and rocky; I discover new dreams every day, And I have also discovered myself. I really am very ordinary, But I am extraordinarily ordinary Because of you! |
Cedar Lane Unitarian
Universalist Church |
