First Parish Unitarian UniversalistSit Still!
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
March 13, 2005
As you may know, in February I took the two weeks of my Study Leave that was left-over from the summer. For four of those days, I was on silent retreat at the Benedictine Abbey in Hingham. This sermon, “Sit Still!,” was inspired by that retreat, during which I spent many quiet hours by myself—reading, writing, contemplating, meditating, praying, walking, sitting. I reveled in the quiet and in the freedom to choose how to use it.
I happened to be the only guest in the retreat house, so I was alone a lot, but I was to take my lunch and dinner in the monastery with the monks. They do not keep silence during meals, I was disappointed to learn. Yet, I welcomed the opportunity to be amongst them. Being the only one at the table who was not a monk, not male, and not even Roman Catholic, though, I felt quite reticent! Furthermore, I censored many of my questions, since I doubted they wanted to spend their mealtimes satisfying my curiosity about their monastic life!
When one asked me, “what is a Unitarian Universalist, anyway?” I felt the attention at the long table turn my way. Oh dear. I had hoped to remain anonymous. :-)
I trust my answer didn’t seem hesitant, but I wanted to respond in a way that made a connection with them, even as it acknowledged our many differences descriptively not pejoratively. Hopefully, I succeeded. If you were brought here today for Bring a Friend Sunday, perhaps you are wondering how I answered?
I told him that Unitarianism and Universalism were each in the Protestant tradition, both originating in Europe, but having precedents in early Christianity that were later denounced as heresy by the Roman church. The Unitarians read the scriptures with reason as their guiding light and concluded that Jesus, though a great moral and charismatic leader, had never said he was God. Therefore, they discarded the doctrine of the Trinity—thus, their name, Unitarian—one God. And the Universalists believed in universal salvation, the idea that God was too good to condemn anyone to hell.
I further explained. Having liberal theology as well as activist leadership in the suffrage, abolition, and civil rights movements in common, the two denominations, both based in Boston but well-established throughout the continent, consolidated in 1961 as the Unitarian Universalist Association. In the latter half of the 20 th c. it attracted humanists who sought an alternative to secularism as well as people looking for spiritual growth without dogma. Today, I told him, our congregations are comprised of people who came from many different faith backgrounds or none, among whom are atheists, agnostics, theists, pagans, and more. All finding common ground in our caring community, our principles for living our daily lives, and our individual search for spiritual truth and meaning in our own experience. We are more concerned about living life in the present than in life after death, and try to honor the inherent worth and dignity of every person, “that of God in each of us,” as well as the inter-connectedness of all people and all of creation.
That’s what I told him, more or less.
At least one of them already knew about us—he said he has even preached at Second Parish UU in Hingham and also met the minister of the First Parish, which is fondly known as “Old Ship,” for its very old, seafaring-like architecture. He didn’t offer his impressions of the UU’s and I didn’t ask.
I thought later that day about our Unitarian Universalist stands on gay marriage and abortion, which I did not mention at lunch, and reminded myself not to assume that the monks’ personal, or even their collective, beliefs necessarily squared with the Pope’s.
In addition to lunch and dinner, I also attended a few of the monastery’s five daily worships, called “Offices,” and honored the study periods called “Lectio Divina.” Even though the theology was alien to me, attending Morning Vigils at 6:30 a.m. and Vespers before dinner and evening Compline lent structure to my day, within which the freedom was easier to use. I enjoyed watching the sky brighten through the sanctuary sky-lights in the morning and I liked the way Compline was a sort of lullaby for the day. It ends with a prayer for “a restful sleep and a peaceful death.” That may sound morbid, but anyone who has trouble going back to sleep when awake in the middle of the night, as I often do, appreciates a “restful sleep,” and who among us would want anything other than a “peaceful death”?
I attended Mass at noon on my first day, but felt awkward stepping aside when they took communion, so I did not attend again until my last day. I went then out of respect, because lunch follows Mass and check-out time follows lunch and somehow I felt it would be an expression of my gratitude for their hospitality if I joined them for worship. I was so glad I did! The Biblical texts for the homily were about standing up for your beliefs and the illustration given was about one of us, Henry David Thoreau! It was the story about how Ralph Waldo Emerson went to visit his friend Thoreau when he was in prison for refusing to pay taxes to support the Mexican-American War, which both men opposed because any land gained through it would likely become slave territory. Both were abolitionists, and Unitarians, too. Emerson asked Thoreau, “Why are you in there?” and Thoreau replied, “Why are you out there?”
Four days with no cell phone, no telephone, no TV or radio, no news from home, no word from First Parish, no TO DO list to get through. Not even a newspaper, the reading of which is, to be honest, the only spiritual discipline I have maintained for any number of years on a daily basis at home. That and five morning minutes of stretches and push-ups on the living room rug.
So, I was really and truly ready to reacquaint myself with the benefits of daily prayer and meditation. And, as with most sermons, I preach this one as much for myself as for you, a gift of the retreat, from me to you, but also from me to myself. For the fact of that matter is that I have great difficulty doing as the sermon title commands: sit still!
I wonder if you do, too? Do you take time to sit still? Do you know how to sit still?
I remember sometime ago hearing one of you say that the brief moment of Silent Preparation for our worship here on Sunday mornings (when I invite you to sit still, take a deep breath in and then out, breathing out the pettier of your cares and breathing in the warmth of the fellowship we share, and then dwell in silence together) was the only such pause for quiet in his week. But, another one of you once called that practice “trite.”
Sometimes, when I hear talking in the pews during what is supposed to be the Silent portion of our Meditation in Word, Silence and Song, I think, sadly, is even this one minute of quiet in their week so difficult for them? On the other hand, one of you recently commented that for you that minute ends too soon every week.
Most of us, I think, are hungering for a pause in the busyness of our week. We come together here to “rest a moment,” as we were reminded by this morning’s Opening Words [by minister of the Unitarian Society of New Haven, the Reverend Kathleen McTigue],
“To rest a moment on the forming edge of our lives, To resist the headlong tumble into the next moment, Until we claim for ourselves awareness and gratitude…” [Singing the Living Tradition, our hymnal, #435]
Most of us, I think, are wanting what we call “spiritual growth.” But maybe we don’t even know what “spiritual” means.
Let me suggest that “spirituality” might simply mean “awareness and gratitude.” Living attentively to the beauty within and around us, noticing injustice and doing something about it, loving ourselves and others, being humble and knowing our own power, using it for good.
But, maybe we also fear we are incapable of being “spiritual,” whatever it is.
Since my retreat, my spouse Don and I have been trying to “sit still” together for fifteen minutes of silent meditation in the morning. It is pitiful how few mornings we have actually succeeded. You would think all it would take would be to get up 15 or 30 minutes earlier than necessary.
But, no, somehow, each day differs enough that we lack a routine that supports our intention to “sit still.” I remember one day when we realized we’d forgotten to meditate. So, we each left our computer, email already open, set the timer for fifteen minutes of silence and sat down. We might have been sitting still, but our minds were not still. When the timer rang, we were both relieved, what a hopeless exercise. Never again, we said. The meditation has to come first in our day.
There’s a new book out called Simply Pray that introduces modern Unitarian Universalists to prayer. In it the author [Erik Walker Wikstrom] describes what happened to Don and me. Apparently, we aren’t alone.
“First you settle down, take a deep breath, and a feeling of peace comes over you.” Well, actually, that day peace never came anywhere near me, over or under!
But I know what the author means.
Anyway, to continue, he says, “a feeling of peace comes over you. You’re counting your breaths—‘one, two, three…’—and suddenly you realize that you’re thinking about what you need to get from the store for dinner. ‘Shoot,’ you say, ‘I got distracted.’ Then you realize that that realization was another distraction. ‘I’m never to going to get this,’ you declare, recognizing that that commentary is itself yet another step away from the silent stillness you crave. Eventually, you begin to chide yourself, ‘Stop it,’ you say, ‘I won’t think another thought.’ ‘Oh heck, that was a thought, too.’ ‘So was that.’ ‘Stop it.’ It continues like this until the practice period is over, or until you give up in frustration and with a feeling of failure.” [pp. 31-32].
Buddhists have an expression for that jumpy state, “monkey mind.” I met both the experience and the term, during my retreat. The term is in a little primer on Zen Buddhism by [the Reverend James Ishmael Ford] our UU minister in Newton who is also the spiritual director of the Zen Community of Boston [called In this Very Moment: a Simple Guide to Zen Buddhism]. Our minds, he says, are “dancing and flying, and doing everything and anything but sitting still and being present.” [p. 43].
By the way, each of the books I mention this morning are on display in the Parish Hall, along with other books and resources, some scrap paper if you want to jot down titles, sample UUA bookstore catalogs, and also some daily meditation manuals you may borrow.
Settling the monkey down is just a matter of practice, but even practice doesn’t banish the monkey mind forever. In every meditation manual or workshop I’ve ever encountered, the instruction is to notice the distracting thoughts without judgment, to acknowledge each one and then let it go. In Simply Pray it says, “No commentary. No condemnation.” [32]
Kind of like when you’re walking down the street and someone passes you going the other direction: you nod and keep going. You don’t turn around to go their way! Nor do you kick yourself because someone appeared on your path.
In Simply Pray, the author suggests an exercise for training our minds to notice thoughts without judgment. He says, “set aside three minutes during which you will look around you without letting your gaze rest long on any one thing. Move steadily from object to object and simply note what you see: ‘That is a book. That is my arm. That is the floor. That is an M.C. Escher print. That is my partner. That is my son putting a sandwich into the VCR.’” [32]
Seriously, he wants us to “maintain our equanimity, giving no object greater or lesser importance, simply noting each thing as it comes into [our] field of vision and then moving on.”
Let’s try it, shall we? Let’s set aside two minutes. Slowly look around, but without letting your gaze rest long on any one thing. Simply note it. Name it as it comes into your line of vision and then move on. If your gaze happens to meet someone else’s, it’s ok, just nod slightly and move on. But try not to give it more or less importance than any other thing your gaze meets. I will sound the chime to end the time.
(silence)
Now, let’s sit still. Together.
Sit gently upright. Uncross your legs. Let your hands rest gently on your lap, perhaps palms up, perhaps palms together.
Rotate your head to release tension, and then your shoulders. If you wish, close your eyes.
Breathe deeply, several times, with your mouth open.
Then breathe more normally, but slowly, and, unless you have a cold, try breathing through your nose.
Notice your breath moving in and out. Over and over again. Remember to simply notice without judgment when thoughts enter your mind. Nod, and keep going.
Now begin to count: one on the inhale, two on the exhale; three on the inhale, four on the exhale. One count in, another count out. And so on. Up to ten, five breaths. And then back to one.
Repeat this counting of your breaths, letting any thoughts that come, go. Until you hear the chime to end the time.
(silence)
On my second night at the abbey a talk on “silence in the Benedictine tradition” was offered for lay Catholics in the area. I asked if I could attend. The monks seemed surprised that I’d want to and, after, they seemed surprised that I found it very beneficial. Maybe I taught them something new about Unitarian Universalists.
Brother Timothy shared a poem with us in his talk, called “Sit Still,” by Loren Haury. Let me end with it now, followed by a minute of shared silence.
Sit still, please, and listen.
I have things to tell you
that can best be heard
in the silence of stillness.
What I want to say should be
accompanied by the laughter of leaves,
shouts of passing birds,
and cloud shadows dancing
to the music of the sun.
Thank you.
Now that I have your attention,
I have no more need to speak.
(silence)
The closing hymn is #352, “Find a Stillness.” Please rise as you are able, we will sing both verses.
Let us pause to listen to the unheard world . . .
Relax into a comfortable position . . .
Breathe in and out very slowly . . .
Quiet yourself and listen to the rhythm of your breath, your heart . . .
Listen to the silence . . .
You will think something . . .
let it pass into you and through you . . .
You will feel something . . .
let it pass into you and through you . . .
Spend some time in the unheard world . . .
(Several minutes of silence)
We begin to return now to the world we usually hear . . .
As you do, try to bring something of that unheard world with you . . .
And, remember to give yourself permission to return to the unheard world. Amen.