First Parish Unitarian Universalist"As the Spirit Moves"
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
November 18, 2001
Back in September one Sunday morning, in introducing the "time for sharing the Joys and Sorrows in our lives and in the world around us," I asked that we not use that time to express our opinions about possible U.S. military response to the attacks on September 11th or our political views about the unfolding situation. I explained that such expressions effectively silence those in the congregation who don't agree with the opinion expressed, because there is no opportunity to respond.
For example, to explain one point of view on a public issue and then recruit members of the congregation to sign a petition or attend a rally in support of that view is appropriate as an Announcement or in a forum on the subject, but is not welcome as a Joy or Sorrow, even though the individual speaker feels deep joy or sorrow about the cause.
Though I felt later that I could have articulated this request more clearly, my intent was not to stifle conversation but rather to direct it elsewhere in our congregational life, and to preserve our time of worship for things deeper.
I feel that my request has mostly been honored. Indeed, several of you thanked me for it. And, I know that there have been meaningful informal conversations about current events during Coffee Hour, in Sermon Circles, the Circle Supper back in October, at least one Parish Committee meeting, at the Harvest Potluck, and perhaps in other First Parish settings as well, maybe even in the parking lot!
Yet, there is also a hunger among some of us for a planned, congregation-wide format in which to acknowledge that our country is at war, that this is a serious business with domestic implications as well as consequences abroad, and that as religious liberals we want to be guided by our religious values. Those who hunger for such an opportunity feel it could be a very enriching and informative conversation.
We can guess from past experience, however, that guided as we all may be by the same liberal religious values of reason, tolerance and freedom.we probably are leaning toward or have come to a range of different political views about our country's response to the so-called war on terrorism. The question then arises, how do we engage each other in a conversation, a truthful conversation that increases community, divisiveness--, among us?
Are we careful enough speakers, are we attentive enough listeners? Will the person who is convinced of their view express it without stridency, without implicitly criticizing the less sure or those who hold a different view? Will the people who assume (rightly or wrongly) that their view is a minority view remain quiet or not participate at all? Will an emerging majority silence the rest with presumed superiority or a greater claim to being "true" UU's? Will the trust among us be such that the unsure or uninformed feel safe enough to reveal their questions, or will they hide their confusion in silence or with bravado? Are we careful enough speakers, are we attentive enough listeners?
This level of trust develops only slowly, and best when we are accustomed to taking the risk of being honest with self and others, kindly, on matters great and small. If we avoid difficult topics, for fear of failing, we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to build deeper trust. If we regularly engage difficult topics in our congregational life, with honest and open intentions and group process that supports trust-building, our religious community has so very much to gain. If we practice being careful enough speakers and attentive enough listeners, we will get better and better at understanding both our differences and our commonalities. I have a hunch there will be more spontaneous love and joy here as well, though I'm talking hopes and visions here, not goals and objectives!
Several of you, representing different political perspectives among us, have said to me that the events of September 11th seem to have upset the standing order of progressive versus liberal versus conservative. Early on, one person expressed to me amazement that people whom he regarded as "non-militaristic and very liberal thought G W Bush was waiting too long to attack somebody" and another commented that he was surprised to find himself withholding his usual criticism of the federal government.
You may recall that in my sermon on the first Sunday after September 11th, I called for a two-sided sword of justice: both retribution and re-distribution. On the one hand, I said our country should seek retribution, taking reasonable and decisive action not against a country but against what appears to be a network of terrorists both here and abroad determined to undermine our security as a means to their larger aims.
And, on the other hand, I said we must should seek a second kind of justice, a re-distribution-- via democratic and economic empowerment--of the goods and resources of civilization to benefit impoverished people in the Middle East and elsewhere who lack even the minimum food, shelter, health and education, excesses of which many of us take for granted..
To be supporting violence, even mitigated violence, was new to me. Some of my Unitarian Universalist colleagues called for stepping outside the cycle of violence entirely and others advocated World War III if necessary. We were all over the map and I seemed to be taking the middle ground.
The current war against the Taliban is one of the first American military interventions during my adult life that I did not actively protest. My opposition to past involvements was not because I was a pacifist, but because the involvement did not seem right to me, either because we should not be involved at all or because we were supporting the wrong side in whatever conflict.
But, this time, I wanted to give the nation's leadership the benefit of the doubt that they would do what they promised: which was to fight terrorism on varied fronts, including with targeted military action against known terrorist networks based on intelligent information. I shuddered at the thought of civilian casualties, but I thought the attacks would be as targeted as technologically possible, mainly utilizing ground forces.
As the carpet bombing began, I felt somewhat duped, but hoped that our military leaders knew what they were doing, but just couldn't say. As domestic civil liberties began to be curtailed, I felt alarmed, but reasoned that law enforcement agencies needed new and temporary powers in order to gather the evidence they needed.
I have felt humbled to not be so sure of my views at such an important time in history, and uncomfortable to not be agreeing with some of my closest friends. After that first statement from the pulpit about the two-sided sword, I let the topic rest
I wish to wonder aloud here with you.if it is true that September 11th has upset the usual divisions between (and even the very definitions of) progressive, liberal and conservative.if it is true that more of us than usual are humble in declaring our views. might that make this a good time and this a good issue on which to practice our careful speaking and attentive listening skills? Is there is a fluidity to things right now that might make it easier to engage in constructive conversation about political issues than it has been in the past?
Perhaps so. But in whatever setting such a conversation takes place, I hope it will be structured to enhance our careful speaking and attentive listening skills. I hope it will be clear that a variety of views is to be expected and welcomed, that honest questions are more desirable that strident statements, and that no one shall feel that he or she is merely "tolerated" as the token minority. Ideally, even the planning group for such an occasion would include people representing diverse views.
This was a long digression into how First Parish might feed the hunger expressed by many of you for a congregation-wide conversation about the so-called war against terrorism. Let me remind you that it was a digression from the topic of the time in our service when we share with each other the Joys and the Sorrows in our lives and the world around us. And I'd like to bring it back there before I close, because the two types of communication are related: that they both are improved by careful speaking and attentive listening.
The time of Joys and Sorrows is meant to be a time of heartfelt sharing, a time to ask for each other's help, sympathy, or prayers, a time to give thanks or convey gratitude, a time to rejoice with good news. The Sorrow or the Joy shared may be personal or it may be public; as I typically say "the Joys and Sorrows in our lives and in the world around us." In our religious community, when a burden is shared, the load is divided among all those gathered and when a joy is shared it is equally-so multiplied.
Some of you, I know, would just as soon not have the time of sharing Joys and Sorrows at all. There are, indeed, many other pitfalls to this liturgical practice besides the one with which the sermon began, of using it to educate others or recruit them to a cause.
There is the problem that some people speak often and easily, and others with great difficulty; for some, even the greatest personal tragedy or triumph will not move them to speak. Sometimes people will make unfortunate generalizations from their own or their family's personal experience, thus offending or polarizing others. And sometimes things are said that can only be appreciated by insiders, or that assume a level of agreement in such a way that the minority who disagree feel chastised or, worse, invisible.
These are risks, I agree, but I believe they are minor relative to the good that comes from our time of sharing Joys and Concerns. I also believe that when these pitfalls do occur, they are opportunities to learn tolerance. More importantly, but more difficultly, these lapses present opportunities for honest, but kind, dialogue after the service about what was said and what was heard.
There are good reasons to have a time to share in Joys and Sorrows, just like there are good reasons to have a time to greet one another and a time of shared silence, and to have congregational singing, unison and responsive readings, occasional "antiphonal readings," as I call them, and "participatory sermons" too. There are even good reasons to all join hands at the end of the service, during the Benediction, but that is not our practice here at First Parish, though the Church Services Committee has considered it in the past and maybe will do so again sometime.
I think there are two good reasons for these liturgical practices in worship: they build a sense of community among us, and they embody, they give physical expression to, our faith. In fact, the word "liturgy" comes from the Greek for "people" and "work," "the people's work." Liturgy, then, is not primarily the work of the clergy as many might think, but the work of the people making a worshipful experience for themselves by participating.
It stands to reason that if the worshipper's participation is restricted to the relatively passive forms of seeing and listening, the worship experience is not going to be as engaging, as meaningful, as heartfelt, as when the people participate with their whole bodies, their voices, even their senses of taste and smell.
But, here in New England, some of this is a stretch, isn't it?! Are you ready for incense?!! Or liturgical dance? And, what's just as limiting as the congregation's New England reserve, you've got a minister who may be appreciated for her calm and her warmth, but is certainly no extravert known for being exuberantly enthusiastic [and here I raised my voice and gesticulated wildly with my hands]! Right???
But, I remember one of my sermons in Weymouth where I served before becoming the minister here. As I got to the "amen" at the end, I swore to myself that I'd never preach such a dry, informative sermon ever again. It might as well have been a lecture; it wasn't at all inspiring.
Yet, afterwards, when someone thanked me in a such a way that I could tell he really meant it and wasn't just being polite, I blurted out, "you liked that sermon? it wasn't very inspiring!" He responded right back, "sometimes we can provide our own inspiration, you know."
True enough, the people do the work of worship. And, ideally, that work builds a sense of community, of trust and goodwill among us.
I also remember my three years attending a silent Quaker meeting or, as they say, "worship on the basis of expectant waiting." Such worship is unplanned, unhurried, and spontaneous. With no clergy, the people do the work of Quaker worship for sure. As they meditate or pray in the silence, sometimes but not every time a deep or vibrant sense of worship pervades the meeting. And sometimes a message or messages emerge and people speak out of that silence, if they are so moved, "when the spirit moves them," as they say. Silent meeting for worship is for Quakers a regular practice of careful speaking and good listening and I observed that it bears fruit in all their interactions.
For me, being somewhat reserved and somewhat of an introvert, being moved to speak in silent meeting was quite a big deal and it didn't happen often. Down in the silence, my heart might start pounding and I would find a message forming, heartfelt. If I continued to feel moved to speak by something deep, not ego, then I would hope to get up the courage and do so.
I don't know when I figured out that being moved to speak wasn't such a big deal for extraverts. That for them, sometimes it took courage not to speak, and to go deeper into the silence.
I think it's that way with our Joys and Sorrows, and indeed for many of our interactions here at First Parish, probably including any future discussions about the repercussions of September 11th. Some people's personalities make it easier for them to speak, and others harder. Some folks are more private than others. Some share their ups and downs with nearby family or friends, others don't have such support. Some risk asking for our thoughts and prayers or tangible help during their time of tribulation, and others wait to share a Joy when it is over. Some share a Joy or a Sorrow, personal or public, simply because doing so fosters the sense of community we so cherish here. They call us to our better selves again.
May we become more and more careful speakers, more and more attentive listeners. And may we more and more have the courage to speak when so moved from a deep place within, speaking the truth as best we know it, with love. Amen.