First Parish Unitarian UniversalistWe Can Begin Again — A Sermon for Yom Kippur
Delivered by Rev. Cricket Potter
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton
September 27, 2009
Responsive Reading
“A Litany of Atonement” by Robert Eller-Isaacs
For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference,
we forgive ourselves and each other 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 that 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 sort 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
We are fast on the heels of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement – the holiest of the Jewish High Holy Days that began last weekend with Rosh Hashanah.
As I said at the beginning of our service, this time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a time of reflection – to think about the past year, reevaluate, name the places where we have fallen short, seek forgiveness where that is needed, and make amends, so that we can begin again on the journey of becoming our best selves and living a life that is guided by love.
It is, above all, a time of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Not such light topics for our third Sunday together and my third sermon with you.
But, you have been game so far.
So, I am hoping and trusting that you will come on this journey with me today as we reflect upon the wisdom of these High Holy Days and the understanding behind this practice of taking an accounting of sorts, seeking forgiveness and reconciliation.
Let me say right now that I see reconciliation simply as making whole that which has been broken, a making right of relationships where we have gone off course.
And, regarding atonement, I invite you to see that hot-button theological word for the three syllables that it is-
at-one-ment.
At its most basic level, atonement is about being at one with yourself, with others in your life, and with what you consider to be sacred, be that God, love, the Spirit of Life, or the essence of our humanity.
And forgiveness is at the crux of it all, whether that be forgiveness of oneself, others, or even life itself.
Forgiveness allows us to let go of the past, which we cannot change, and to look toward tomorrow, which we do have the ability to change.
It frees us from the silent anger, the frustrated waiting, the hardening heart.
As the quote in your order of service says,
“Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.”
And my sermon centers on several questions that I want to ask you:
Do you believe in forgiveness, both of yourself and others?
Do you believe that you can learn and grow,
overcome your shortcomings?
Do you dare be honest about your own imperfections?
For, by our very humanness, we are all imperfect.
So, the question is:
What are we going to do about those imperfections?
Are we going to ignore them and hope that others don’t notice
them too much?
Or dare we face into them and face others
with honesty and humility seeking forgiveness?
For one response to these questions, I want to share something I read recently in the newsletter from Temple Beth David, our neighbors in faith just down the road.
Rabbi Allison Berry wrote this reflection for the High Holy Days:
The Talmud (Berachot 34b) says that the holiest place is reserved for those who are broken or sometimes miss the mark; that only the person who is struggling with human imperfections can stand in the holiest place, where even the completely righteous person is not privileged to stand.
This year at the High Holidays, remember that Jewish tradition invites you to bring your imperfections, ambivalence, comparisons, and your sense of loss or brokenness – to stand fully present in the company of others who are also human, imperfect, and seeking to grow.
How powerful and healing is it to hear those words of invitation to all of us
who are imperfect?
What I hear Rabbi Berry and the Talmud saying is to: come, take courage that you are not alone in “missing the mark,” and bring all of who you are so that we can all face into this as community.
We can and must pause to reflect.
We must pause to ask honestly if what we have done and the way we have treated others honors our worth and dignity and embodies love and compassion.
From that honest and humble place we are called – by all the world religions, not just Judaism – to do the work of reconciliation and seek forgiveness so that we can begin again to be better persons.
And the specific message of Yom Kippur is that you and I can begin again through this spiritual practice of reconciliation and forgiveness.
That is a central message in all the world religions -
that we can begin again if we bring the right intention to it,
and we must.
The key point – and this is the hard point – it that we must be honest
and start where we are, not where we’d like to be.
That’s the hard and most powerful work - owning up to things.
I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that it’s so much easier just to heap the blame on others for our problems and leave it there, allowing anger or resentment to serve as a shield.
But to look honestly at myself and the way I have treated others -
that takes courage, faith, and a willingness
to face into the day-to-day work of doing better.
The good news is that the possibility of growth and healing and love are always there.
That is the hopeful message that I heard in Rabbi Berry’s invitation to her congregation and that we read aloud in our Responsive Reading this morning.
That through forgiving ourselves and each other, we can begin again, always.
For each time we have struck out in anger when we should have listened more patiently.
For each time that we have remained silent when we should have spoken up.
For each time that we have pushed someone away who has needed us.
For each time we have needed to “win” the argument, prove that we are “better” than the other person, be “in control” when trusting was what was needed.
For all these and more, today as we approach Yom Kippur, I invite you to embrace the wisdom of the High Holy Days that invites us to come, bring our imperfections, and be fully present with others who seek to grow.
In the words of our Responsive Reading:
We can forgive ourselves and one another and begin again in love.
In this spirit, I invite us all to take a few moments to consider a place in one of our relationships where we would like to begin again.
I invite you to think back over the last year to a way or a time that you have been less than your best self with another person.
Consider how you would like it to be otherwise.
What would it feel like to be able to move past that and be able to begin again in love?
One last point I want to make about this reconciliaton thing is the freedom and peace we can feel on the other side of it.
In naming something of my own doing that I am not proud of and in seeking forgiveness for that or forgiving someone else for their shortcomings, I feel a huge sense of letting go.
It’s as if something – pain, anger, disappointment? – that has been tightening around my heart like a cord is finally removed, and my heart is free to open up again.
Anyone who has been through a 12-step program and done the steps of taking a moral inventory of themself, admitting to the nature of their wrongs, making direct amends to people whenever possible, and humbly turning to their higher power for help in overcoming their shortcomings knows what I mean.
Let me clarify – this is not about forgetting wrongs – ours or others.
Rather, it is about allowing ourselves to no longer be trapped in the emotions of these wrongs –the hurt and anger or shame – and to find peace, find life even.
As the great playwright August Wilson once wrote,
“Your willingness to wrestle with your demons
will cause your angels to sing.”
So, let’s bring our imperfections and our brokenness and stand fully resent with one another so that we can do the work of at-one-ment.
My colleague Rev. Mark Bellitini puts it best in his poem honoring this spirit of reconciliation:
Let’s set it all down, you and me.
The disappointments.
Little and large.
The frustrations.
Let’s open our fists and drop them.
The useless waiting.
The obsession with what we cannot have.
The focus on foolish things….
Let’s throw them down.
The comparisons of ourselves to others….
The cynical assumptions.
The unspoken, shelved anger.
Let’s toss them….
Let’s sink them all like stones.
Like stones in the pool of this gift of silence.
Let them drop like hot rocks
into the cool silence.
And when they’re gone,
let’s lay back gently, and float,
float on the calm surface of the silence.
Let’s be supported in this still cradle
Of the world, new-born, ready for anything.
May it be so.
Amen.