The Challenges That Beckon
Sermon by Steve Edington
September 14, 2003
It was eight o'clock in the morning and I'd already been up for over two hours; getting to the airport, turning in the rented car, and riding the monorail over to the terminal. I was pretty bleary-eyed as the doors into the San Francisco International Airport swooshed open for me and the over-sized suitcase I was wheeling along behind. I hadn't even had my first cup of coffee yet. Walking down a very wide ramp with countless other travelers lugging their goods behind them, I notice a uniformed gentleman standing behind a podium-like structure off to my right offering skycap service. Timing is everything. There was no line. I did the drill: Wheel up the suitcase, hand over the driver's license, and let the guy with the keyboard do the rest. He takes the license and goes to work on his keyboard. Our only conversation is an exchange of quick and perfunctory "good mornings."
The keys click, and then stop clicking. Skycap Man looks at his screen, then up at me, then back at the screen, then up at me again. "What does this 'Rev' mean?" "Rev?" Yeah, is your name 'Rev?' In my still fuzzed-up mind I realize that one of the few pieces of identification I have that denotes that I'm a minister is the credit card I used to book the flight, and there is no punctuation period mark after the 'v' on it. So, from where Mr. Skycap is standing it looks like my first name is Rev, which is not the way my driver's license has it. The times being what they are, he can't let that one go by.
"It's an abbreviation... for Reverend," I say. "Reverend?" "Yes, Sir." "You're a Reverend?" "Yes Sir, I am." (I offer a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he not ask me my denomination or affiliation. Proud as I am to be a Unitarian Univeralist, I really wasn't quite up for my UU elevator speech at eight in the morning in a crowded airport-and by now a line was forming behind me.) Whether anyone heard it or not, my prayer was answered. He went back to the keys. My baggage claim sticker is printed out and attached to the handle of my suitcase. Boarding passes are coughed up and placed in a folder. I put a hand into my pocket for a couple of bucks to give my friendly skycap man, even as my eyes are scanning the airport terrain for the nearest coffee oasis.
He gives me another searching kind of look, and instead of handing my boarding pass folder to me, he uses it to beckon me over to the side of his skycap station. He figures the line can wait. "I guess since you're a Reverend I can tell you this; and this is something I haven't told anyone else." "Ahh... sure." [So where is this going?] It went like this: "Two weeks ago I was lying on my couch at home watching television, and I started to feel like I was slowly disappearing... I didn't feel like I had any feet or hands and then it was no arms or legs... I really thought I was dying." "That must have been pretty frightening." "Oh yeah, and then I started seeing these white spots in front of my eyes, and I passed out for a few seconds, and when I came to I could feel my body coming back and I realized I wasn't going to die after all. And since that time Reverend, I have not smoked a cigarette or had a drink. What do you think of that?" [I think I would have settled for the 'What's a Unitarian Universalist?' question. At least that's one I have an answer for.]
The man, whose name I never even learned, was serious; and I knew I needed to acknowledge and honor his seriousness. He'd taken a time-out from a very demanding and pressing job to tell a total stranger - who happened to have an R-E-V in front of his name - about a life-changing experience that he was still trying to figure out. Okay, I figured, give it your best shot: "I'd say you had a visit from the Spirit." "Yeah, that's what it was - a visit from the Spirit." "And it has caused you to do some pretty serious thinking about how you want to live your life from here on out. I think you should pay good attention to that message." "Yes, yes, you are absolutely right... well, thank you for that Reverend." We shake hands, I offer him the best and promise to keep him in mind. I also give him his tip. He thanks me again, and then turns back to face his line of people and suitcases, while I let myself be absorbed back into the anonymity that a crowded airport 3000 miles from home offers.
I've been in the ministry for over thirty years now, with half of that time being spent right here with this church and this congregation. And I continue to be surprised, and sometimes amused, and sometimes troubled, and sometimes uplifted, and sometimes challenged; but almost always - in one way or another - blessed, by some of the situations it puts me in. A stranger, whose initial relationship to me was a purely functional one, becomes, if only for a moment or two, a real flesh and blood human being like we all are, trying to figure out the meaning of what for him was a profound and life-altering experience. With one little beckoning motion of that boarding pass I was invited, however briefly, into a relationship that called for a response.
In this particular instance I got called out because of the identity I was carrying. But try this on for size: Most of us are living very busy and crowded lives that often involve a lot of coming and going, as well as hauling along with us the accumulated baggage this is ours to haul. We live in a strange but still blessed world. And we - many of us here, anyway - also carry an identity. You may not put it on display all that much or that often, and its not on your credit card or your driver's license, but you and I and we carry an identity as people of a liberal religious faith and tradition, called Unitarian Universalism. So for a few minutes this morning, in the manner of my skycap friend, I want to beckon you aside, and share some thoughts on some of the challenges I see beckoning us - as individuals and as members of this community - that we call the Unitarian Universalist Church of Nashua. What calls us, what relationships beckon, in the months ahead? Ours is a beckoning, I would suggest, that takes place on many levels, from the global to the very personal. So, we'll begin with the global.
We are called, beckoned, as citizens of a nation and of a global community. Two years ago this Sunday we gathered here in grief and shock and mourning and bewilderment, to name just a few of the emotions that were present in this sanctuary on that Sunday after September 11 of 2001. And those emotions continue, as would be expected in the wake of the horror of the attacks on our country on that day. Those who are bereaved still rightfully seek comfort and healing. And we continue to be called to respond to that need The tragedy of that day as well as the bravery shown by so many who lost their lives in the rescue efforts will, I dare say, remain with us for as long as most, if not all, of us in this room remain alive, and beyond.
In the ensuing two years the terror and tragedy of that day of infamy has been compounded in ways, as I have come to see it, that need not have happened. For in addition to the tragedy of that day has been the additional tragedy of where this nation has been led over the past 24 months, more specifically the past 8-10 months. The tragedy is that we have, in large measure, squandered much of the empathy of the world; exchanging it for the disdain and mistrust of much of the world. I certainly never felt that we could, or should, remain passive in the wake of such an attack upon our nation. That was obviously never an option. But to initiate a war-against even one of the more heinous rulers on the planet-on largely false pretenses and information, and showing the back of our hand to many in the community of nations has, I firmly believe, needlessly claimed the lives of many of our finest soldiers and has placed us in an even less secure position than we were two years ago. As the national commentator Maureen Dowd has wryly noted: "By pretending Iraq was crawling with Al Qaeda, we have created an Iraq crawling with Al Qaeda." [Emphasis added.]
A variety of polls indicate that over two-thirds of Americans believe there was a direct link between Saddam Hussien and the September 11 attacks, even in the absence of any evidence to support such a belief; and even in view of the fact that nearly all of the hijackers were Saudis and that the shots were called from Afghanistan. While the President has never explicitly made that link himself, he has time and again implicitly exploited the perception of an Al Qaeda/Iraq link - and even did so in making his belated appeal for help to the United Nations last week. I cannot improve upon the questions Ms. Goodman raised in her column last Thursday: "When does the small, repeated exploitation of this belief become the big lie? What do we make of a patriotism of fear?"
I would suggest that we respond to the patriotism of fear by heeding the beckoning of a patriotism of hope and humility. It is the same hope that Martin Luther King expressed in his speech at the March of Washington 40 years ago this past month, that "this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed..." It is the hope that this land that belongs to you and me may yet be called to its better self. And a patriotism of humility is not one of self-hatred or debasement, but one that recognizes that the arrogance of power, such as we have witnessed in this past year, is precisely what brings us to the limits of our power, and what prevents us from being the great force for good in this world that I continue to believe we can be. That's enough on the subject for today. We will continue to be beckoned by the challenge of a sincere and honest patriotism in the months ahead.
Some of the major news stories that played out over the summer had their religious over- and-undertones, which also beckon for our attention. Five thousand pounds worth of the Ten Commandments were eventually removed from the rotunda of the Alabama Supreme Court building, after being surreptitiously placed there by an Alabama Supreme Court Justice. I'll speak in more detail to this episode next Sunday when my topic will be "God In The Public Arena." I'll say for now that it was one more illustration of the religious fault line that continues to divide this country, and that the cultural wars are still being waged.
Another indication of that fault line had to do with homosexuality and the possibility of same-sex marriages. The Episcopal Church endorsed the installation of their first openly gay Bishop, Rev. Gene Robinson, who is living in an openly partnered relationship - and he's the Bishop of New Hampshire, no less. My friend and colleague, Rev. Robert Odiera, the minister at the Church of the Good Shepherd, has an excellent article in today's Telegraph, on this subject and I commend it to you. Our neighbor to the north, Canada, legalized same sex marriages. Our United States Supreme Court struck down a Texas anti-sodomy statute last June, affirming the right to sexual privacy between consenting adults of the same sex. This led Justice Anton Scalia to comment with alarm that such a ruling will lead to same-sex marriage in this country. I believe this is the first time in my life that I've ever hoped Justice Scalia is right about something.
The Vatican has also weighed in on the matter calling for the opposition to any semblance of same-sex unions or marriages. With all the respect and appreciation that I really do feel for the many enjoyable relationships I've had with Catholic Priests and Christian Brothers during my three-plus decades in the ministry, I also have to say that I wish the Vatican as much success in their campaign to prevent same-sex marriages as they've had in preventing the use of birth control devices. (Some lines are just too irresistible for me to resist.)
But there us an issue at stake here that is larger than the rights of gays and lesbian persons to marry, important as that is. I addressed this matter in a Telegraph article a few weeks ago, and I greatly appreciated their printing it in full. Just going strictly by the numbers, the question of same-sex marriage is one that only affects a small portion of our national population. But it has become the latest call-to-arms issue for the Religious Right with their fear-laden specter that our country is teetering on the edge of some kind of immoral abyss into which we will surely tumble if gay and lesbian persons are permitted to marry. And one should never underestimate the power of fear, however irrational such fear may be. All citizens of this country, individually and collectively, have to right to their convictions and the right to express them in the public arena. The question, however, is should the religious convictions of some, however deeply and sincerely held, be allowed to dictate public policy for all in a secular and civil democracy? My answer, surprise...surprise, is no. I do believe, however, there is a positive role for religion, and for persons of faith, to play in a secular democracy. This, too, I will address in more detail next Sunday.
Moving closer to home, there are certainly challenges that beckon within our religious community here. There are the challenges - the largely joyful challenges - of caring for one another and practicing kindness towards one another; of attending to each others joys and concerns, losses and gains, hopes and defeats; of supporting one another in our journeys of the mind and spirit and in our searches for greater levels of insight, meaning, and understanding in our lives as well as for greater levels of spiritual depth. These are the beckonings of any healthy and loving religious community, as I take us to be. In a more worldly - but at the same time also quite spiritual - vein, we have some fiscal challenges before us as well. As many of you know, we faced some serious financial issues last spring as we set up to plan for and prepare a budget for the fiscal year we are now in. Our Church President and Treasurer described this matter in some detail in our latest Newsletter, and I will not reiterate those details here. The hardest part of that process was having to curtail our outreach grants to worthy causes in our community. Our Executive Board and Fundraising Committee are looking at ways of hopefully restoring to some degree those grants and we will keep you posted on decisions that get made. On this same subject, I hope as many of you as can - especially lay leaders, but all interested members as well - will set aside the weekend of November 7-8-9 when Mr. Michael Durall, a consultant with the Commonwealth Consulting Group and a long-time Unitarian Universalist, will be here to interact and facilitate discussions amongst us on how we can raise even higher our levels of involvement and giving. He will also lead the Sunday service on November 9. For the sake of this church, for which we all care about so much, I hope you'll keep that weekend clear.
Finally, the strongest kinds of beckonings that call us back to this place for another year together are those that come from our own hearts, minds, souls, and spirits. We come needing to be connected to one another; and to be connected to that Larger Reality, to that Greater Spirit of Life, however we may each choose to name it, that enfolds us and blesses us all. We come at the beckoning of a safe and trustworthy place where lives can be safely shared, where fears can be faced and examined, where our personal wellsprings of meaning and hope can be discovered and lived out, where our souls are fed and nurtured, and where our lives-in both their wholeness and their brokenness-are affirmed. We are beckoned to a supportive standpoint from which we may address our concerns and hopes for our larger world; to a supportive standpoint where we may be advocates for justice and for peace, and for a safe and saner world. Such a standpoint does not require unanimity of opinion as to how these things might be accomplished, but it does call for a common commitment to work towards their fruition.
I started with a story from my travels of last summer. I'll close with another one. On a Saturday evening, a couple of days before my airport experience, I was spending some time with a friend named Jerry in Monterey, California. He owns and operates a little establishment there called "The Beat Museum." We decided that on the following Sunday afternoon we'd take a drive down through the Big Sur area south of Carmel. He said that the first stop he wanted to make was to see this poet he'd been put in touch with to get some of his books for his museum/store. I said fine, I'm sure I'd enjoy meeting him. Jerry said, "I don't know that you've heard of him. His name is Ric Masten." I go, "Ric Masten? You mean the Unitarian Universalist minister who wrote the song 'Let It Be a Dance' that is in our UU hymnals?" That was all news to Jerry, he knew Ric Masten as a local poet of some renown who's also been given the title of "Poet Laureate of Carmel." I knew him as this UU troubadour who's appeared in hundreds of our UU churches and societies over the years. I'd met him just once at the All Souls UU Church in New York about ten years ago. Jerry and I were both talking about the same person, and with a couple of phone calls the visit was arranged for the next day. I say arranged as it had to be done with some care. For the past 4-5 years Ric has been dealing with prostate cancer, and we had to schedule our visit in accordance with his need for naps and his medication regimen.
Ric and his wife Billie Masten live in this rambling, and kind of ramshackle, home that he's built room by room beginning back in the early 1960s when he bought the land for a song. (I mean that literally; he used his concert income to make the purchase.) It is way up on the side of one of those breathtakingly gorgeous mountains right on the northern end of the Big Sur stretch of the California coastline. I'm glad we were using Jerry's car, because even as a passenger the drive up to the house scared the life out of me. It was a beautiful day. The three of us sat on a deck, with the ocean way off in the background, and just generally talked about our lives. For Jerry's benefit the Rev. Mr. Masten and I tried to keep the UU shoptalk to a minimum. In time the conversation wound its way around to Ric's cancer. He spoke very openly about his need to keep up his positive and life-affirming spirit and to maintain his great sense of humor, while not denying the reality of what he's dealing with. He's even written a book on the subject in collaboration with the Doctor who is treating him. It's called Parallel Journeys. The Doctor writes about the cancer itself and its effect on Ric from a medical perspective; and then Ric writes in a poetic and sometimes even whimsical way, about the effect of the cancer on his spirit and on his day to day life. From what I've had time to read, it's an amazing book.
It was an amazing afternoon. In ways too extensive for me to elaborate on now, it gave me a real renewal of the spirit, and, I believe, helped prepare me for another year in the ministry. I've even brought a "what I did last summer" picture of myself with Ric Masten sitting there on his deck. I'll put it by the Newcomer's Table in Coffee Hour for those who would like to take a look at it.
I came away from that afternoon with two messages: One about the power of life and the other about the beauty of our world. However much is wounds us at times, and even though it is not our forever, life is still a wonderful and precious and fragile thing. And for all of our horrible human folly and failings and just plain damned foolishness this often troubled world of ours still refuses to give up its essential beauty. Whoever or Whatever it is that you give thanks to, say a prayer of thanks for that.
I told Ric that when we - my congregation and I - reconvened in the fall, I'd have us sing "Let It Be A Dance" at one of our first services. I like to be a man of my word. So, as another church year beckons, let's sing it together.
Stephen D. Edington
September 14, 2003
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