First Parish Unitarian UniversalistLet Us Join Our Hearts and Minds
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane D. Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
October 28, 2007
Reading
Beyond the Question: Part One by May Sarton
The phoebe sits on her nest
Hour after hour,
Day after day,
Waiting for life to burst out
From under her warmth.
Can I weave a nest for silence,
Weave it of listening,
Listening,
Layer upon layer?
But one must first become small,
Nothing but a presence,
Attentive as a nesting bird,
Proffering no slightest wish
Toward anything that might happen
Or be given,
Only the warm, faithful waiting,
Contained in one’s smallness.
Beyond the question, the silence.
Before the answer, the silence.
Sermon
Hello darkness, my old friend…
The opening line of the 1960’s tune by Simon and Garfunkel (today’s choir anthem) gently invites us into conversation with the darkness, in the silence.
Hello darkness, my old friend… But then the song’s conversation becomes an angry one. Written in the days after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy (so says the on-line encyclopedia Wikipedia), its anger resonated with anti-war sentiments in the following years. It expresses the anger of many youth at that time. For them, indeed for some of us then, the silence of the majority was a cancer of apathy growing, spread by people who “talk without speaking” and “hear without listening,” and don’t dare to sing their songs of truth.
Whether there are parallels today, and why or why not, I’ll leave to you to discuss, or to another sermon. Because it’s the silence we’ll talk about today.
I’ve come to talk with you again…the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence.
However, there are other kinds of silence that are not wise, nor prophetic. There is the awful silence of those who have been silenced, those denied their voice. There is the silent lie. Silent rage. Silent fear. The silence of the dark night of the soul as described by the mystics of many different religions can be terrifying in its loneliness.
But, today we come together to talk about the silence we share in our worship here at First Parish. Often, when I introduce it, I say that it is a gift we give to each other. These few moments are a gift we give to each other, because all must honor the silence if any one is to enjoy it. However, let me say now that inadvertent sounds like a cough, or a baby’s cries, or the siren on the street outside are sounds, like our own distracting thoughts, that we note and let go without attaching annoyance to our response.
Perhaps you’ve noticed how the silence sometimes gathers and settles in around us, like a warm afghan, or soft light diffuse through the stained glass windows. It is in those moments, those magical moments, that we are truly sharing the silence. It becomes something palpable, and we are sharing it.
The poet Robert Bly talks says that two true lovers experience “a third body that they share in common” that “they have made a promise to love…as they breath, they feed someone we do not know, someone we know of, whom we have never seen.” (A Third Body in Loving a Woman in Two Worlds, p. 19). Sometimes, the silence in this sanctuary of memory and hope feels like that kind of presence. The sounds of silence. Those are precious moments.
We need that silence. We in the 21 st century, especially perhaps, need that silence. A place and a time of peace and calm, a pause in the onslaught of information, advertising, expectations, and tasks. A moment in which to hear the “still, small voice inside” or experience an awesomeness that transcends this place and time. We need times of silence.
But mystics and sages of ancient times and many places went into the wilderness to pray--think of Abraham and Moses, Jesus, Mohammad, the Buddha under his Bodhi tree and so on. And even today religious folk of so many traditions make a space in their homes for an altar or shrine—think of Hindi, Catholic, and Buddhist families who make a space in a corner for prayer, or Muslims who simply unroll a small rug and get down on their knees facing Mecca.
Why would we not need a silent time apart, too?
This is a part of our spiritual practice as Unitarian Universalists, to come together for worship in community a portion of which is spent in shared silence. We need it, and in doing it together here, we may learn ways to do it elsewhere and at other times. How to take a few minutes or more to listen to the sounds of silence in our own homes at the start or end of the day, during a break from work, before a meal or to calm a fear, after an argument, on a walk.
Last year, one Sunday, I decided to extend our time of silent meditation to two full minutes. I didn’t announce I would do so. I didn’t say, “OK folks, get ready, you have to be quiet for longer today.” I just did it.
And, someone noticed. Someone came through the greeting line during the postlude, looked at me unwaveringly and said to me emphatically, but not unkindly, “Two minutes was TOO long. Way too long.”
I hope there was time before the line pressed the person forward, time for me to say “it’s good to know how you feel” or, at least, “thank you.” I don’t remember.
But I do remember thinking later that day, wow, that person held that thought about the silence being too long for nearly a half hour--through the sermon, the closing hymn and the benediction, and then remembered to tell me on the way out. It must have been important. That person must have seen me glance at my watch, looked at theirs and noted the time when I said “Amen.” Two minutes. Too long!
Actually, over the Sundays since, others of you noticed and liked it. And some have asked for even longer.
But what of the ones who don’t like it? Perhaps there is a need for some instruction as to what to do in the silence, I thought that day. Certainly, that person’s not alone. So, this sermon is for all those who wish for less silence or would like to make of it a better time for themselves.
And for others of you here today, those for whom two minutes is too short, who would wish for five minutes or twenty or even an hour of silence, and would dive into it as into calm, warm water or into a fluffy down bed, this sermon may be one you could tune out. You know how to find your own refuge in silence. Or perhaps you’ll try something new today.
But for anyone who has on some Sunday cast about wondering what to do when I say “Let us join our hearts and minds together in a time of prayer and meditation…” and for anyone who could use a few suggestions as to how to dwell with more equanimity in those unexpected, often frustrating moments when you are stuck in traffic, waiting for someone who is late, or put on hold by some faraway call center, this one’s for you.
I am intentional about the way I invite you into the silence. I say “let us join our hearts and minds together…” to evoke a sense of wholeness—that the upcoming activity is for both heart and mind. It’s not just for thinking, nor is it just for feeling. It’s an invitation to become soulful in these moments, to find a deep place within you, a place of both heart and mind, where you know joy and sorrow, a place that connects you with that deep place in others.
My invitation is intentional in another way, too. I say let us join our hearts and minds together “in a time of prayer and meditation” to suggest that you might pray during this time or you might meditate, or some combination of the two, or perhaps you brood or cogitate, contemplate, or reflect on a question in your life at the moment. It’s up to you.
Sometimes I may say “Oh, God, oh spirit of life and of love” as an entry point for the time of silence. I do so either as invocation—to invoke this spirit or whatever name by which you worship—or as a salutation, like Dear God or “to whom it is concerned.” Again, it’s up to you, take it as you wish.
Any way, it suggests to me that there is something more than our own little hearts and little minds—as open as they may be—that we may tap into, join with, express and increase if we attend to it.
Is there a difference between prayer and meditation? To me, prayer is more about filling and meditation is more about emptying.
In prayer, we name our deepest longings, desires, sorrows, confessions, hopes, gratitudes, or joys. So, our minds and hearts are filling with the names of these things and the feelings associated with them. I think of prayer as being possible for all of us, whether we direct it toward the divine or not, by understanding prayer as giving silent voice to our deepest self in this moment. It take practice. That’s why they call it a prayer practice.
On the other hand, in meditation, we empty our minds of thoughts and feelings. We do so by either following the movement of our breathing in and out, perhaps silently counting or saying a word or phrase with each inhale or exhale, or by meditating upon an image or thought. In doing so, the mind is quieted, calmed, focused. When other thoughts enter in, we eventually bring ourselves back to our breath or to the subject of our meditation.
Another possibility is contemplation, the thoughtful consideration of something, whether it be an autumn leaf, an incident in your week, the smile of one you love.
With only two minutes, what is one to do? When stuck in traffic, what next?
My simplest suggestion is to notice your breathing. It requires no special equipment, no book, no other person, no special setting. If you’re alive, you’re breathing. Your breath is always with you. Each inhale and exhale that you follow is a present moment that you have attended to. You’ve paid attention. You’ve focused your mind and, though we all have distracting thoughts, you only have to bring your mind back to noting your breath. Even in only two minutes, you will likely need to bring your thought back to your breath several times. Or your mind may wander until you hear my “amen,” until the traffic light changes or the awaited late person arrives. It takes practice. That’s why they call it a meditation practice. When the chime rings, that will be the start of the two minutes. When it rings again, that’s the end.
Since I find that simply attending to my breath like that often just results in long periods of going over my To Do list in my mind… before I realize what’s happening and turn my attention back to my breathing, there are variations on breathing meditation that I prefer to do. Perhaps you would like to try them too.
While some Zen practitioners silently count to ten, one with the inhale and two with the exhale, three with inhale and so on up to ten, then start at one again, but I find my mind can think about other things even while I’m counting.
So, I like to read a poem silently to myself and then pick a phrase from it that speaks to me. Perhaps it’s a phrase of three or four words. I then recite those words as a kind of mantra in my mind, the first word for the in-breath, second word for the out-breath, third for in, and fourth for out. Then I repeat it the phrase, until the time is up. I find this helps to focus my mind because there is a word to go with each inhale and exhale. Sometimes, the whole phrase resonates with meaning by the end. Sometimes not.
You could do it with any phrase from the Order of Worship—a phrase from our Covenant or from the Morning or Meditation Songs, or from one of the hymns. Or you could open the Hymnal at the back where the readings are and pick one at random to use in the way I’ve described for a breathing meditation on one phrase that you like.
Let’s try that last idea now, for three minutes. Turn to the back of the hymnal and open anywhere between #416 and #733. Glance over the Readings on the page and pick one to read. It doesn’t have to be the perfect Reading, so just pick one. Read it once, then find within it a phrase that strikes your interest and either focus your breathing on it, one word for the in-breath and one for the out-breath, etc. OR simply ponder it, repeating it as you wish. When the chime rings, that will be the start of three minutes. When it rings again, that’s the end.
With as many as five minutes—and this is good when you’re stuck in a bad traffic jam—you can do the Meditation on the Senses. Like the breathing meditation, this brings you in touch with your body, in the moment. You spend one minute with each of your senses, noticing and savoring what you can take in with each sense that you have. Sight. Taste. Smell. Hearing. Touch.
I’ll leave you to try that another time if you like.
Because I want to save some time for the Family Roster meditation. It’s more of visualization meditation. Some of you may remember it from the “Living By Heart Video” which I’ve shown many times over my years here in Adult Religious Exploration classes, workshops and last year’s Spiritual Renewal Retreat. In this meditation, you name silently or hold in your mind’s eye the image of each person in your family, however you define family and whoever you want to include in it, letting that person into your heart as he or she is or was, for a time, perhaps reflecting on where you are in your relationship with each, what you would need to do to deepen or improve it. You can do it with any group or a whole community or nation or the world if you want..
If you’re doing it at home, you can use an actual photograph. But when I do it sometimes during our time of silence, I just picture my family in my mind, holding each one in the light of love in my heart’s mind. If I ever seem to be letting the silence go way too long, it may be because I got going on my whole extended family--which is so large, we’ll have a very long silence indeed!
I invite you now, for about five minutes to name or picture people you want to hold in mind and heart in this way. Dwell unhurriedly with each person (or family or community or nation) for a while in the silence. Hold each one in your heart, in the light of your love, for a moment, calling to mind their joys and their sorrows, and naming a hope or a blessing you might have for him or her or for your relationship with each. When the chime rings, that will be the start of five minutes. When it rings again, that’s the end.
Another approach to our moments of silence, our last for now, is to enter into the time of silence in prayer. I think of prayer as being possible for all of us, as I earlier said, whether we direct it toward the divine or not, by understanding prayer as giving silent voice to our deepest self in this moment. So, in the silence, now, I invite you to pray a silent closing prayer or read from one in the Hymnal—the prayers start at #493.
To pray your own prayer, you might name for yourself something true within yourself, a deepest hope or longing, perhaps a fear or doubt or major question with which you are currently struggling, a deep regret, or a deep love or joy. What help do you need? For what are you thankful? Dwell with it there in the silence. Perhaps, or perhaps not, then directing a petition or a gratitude to the holy, the ground of your being, God or the Goddess, the marvel of life, of all creation, or simply to that spirit of life that is in each and every one of us, and connects us all and all the universe. When the chime rings, that signals the end.
I invite you, as you are ready… to open your eyes if you’ve closed them and come into the light, having befriended the darkness as an old friend and heard the whispers in the sounds of silence. Amen.
Our closing hymn is #83 in the hymnal, Winds Be Still.