First Parish Unitarian UniversalistTwo Homilies
Given by the Reverend Diane Teichert
April 14, 2002
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
"Love's Gift" & "Our Sikh Neighbors"
"Love's Gift"
Death, I believe, is a part of life, not it's opposite. If we experience it to be part of life, then it loses its fearsome quality and some of its sting. Death is a natural part of the order of things, of the cycle of life, of the seasons and of the seasons of our lives.
Would we have it any other way, really? No, says, Dorothy N. Monroe in her poem, "The Cost."
Death is not too high a price to pay
for having lived. Mountains never die,
nor do the seas or rocks or endless sky.
Through countless centuries of time, they stay
eternal, deathless. Yet they never live!
If choice there were, I would not hesitate
to choose mortality. Whatever Fate
demanded in return for life I'd give,
for never to have seen the fertile plains
nor heard the winds nor felt the warm sun on sands
beside the salty sea, nor touched the hands
of those I love-without these, all the gains
of timelessness would not be worth one day
of living and of loving; come what may.
Someone's death is, of course, always the ending of that person's life, and so we must mourn, we feel loss, we feel pain, maybe anger, usually sorrow. Yet, despite death, the effects of that person's life continue on in the lives of the people who knew him or her, especially family, and for better or for worse.
If there's been love, love continues on. The mourners are supported by that love and it connects them, one with another. That's why we can say that love conquers all and changes everything, even death.
But, if the deceased's love was withheld or unreliable or confused with any kind of violence, then what lives on in the mourners is pain and anger. Euripedes made reference to this when he wrote, in the fifth century before Jesus (and Shakespeare said it too), "the gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children."
But, it's equally as true that the gods visit the blessings of the parents on the children, too. And, so, at memorial services like the one here yesterday for Curtis, his adult children recounted some of the blessings they had received from him. Witnessing the fullness of their hearts as they spoke, one need not have even known their father to know that his love was living on in them and in their children.
This past week, I attended a very different memorial service. The two year old daughter of my favorite clergy colleague here in Canton died of brain cancer on the same day as Curtis. Liat's father, David, is the student rabbi at Temple Beth Abraham where they call him "Reb," which I understand to be an endearing term for "teacher," not as formal as Rabbi. You may remember him, officiating with me at the interfaith gathering on our front lawn the evening of September 12th, and singing with such energy at the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service held in this sanctuary last November.
On Wednesday afternoon, the Temple was full and the sorrow was palpable. Amazingly, Liat's young parents, with big sister Dalia in her dad's arms, offered the eulogy for their own daughter. They told of her premature birth and mentioned her developmental delays (one surmised that they may have been cancer-related), but mainly they spoke, taking turns, about her favorite things and the mischief she got into, her big sister and "aunties" and all the people she loved, how they delighted in her and she in them, and how she was always the first to shut her eyes when the Shabbat candles were lit on Friday nights. It was real, and it broke your heart.
At the cemetery, the mourners gathered around the grave that had been prepared. David and Heather carried their daughter's preciously small casket from hearse to graveside themselves. Many words of comfort were read by a tall, imposing Rabbi wearing a wide-brimmed hat to shield his pale face, and his kind and wise eyes, from the bright sun. And, then, the casket was lowered into the grave. Slowly, shovel full by shovel full, the pile of dirt nearby was moved to fill the space around the little casket. The first many shovels-full were spaded by mother and father, and then by grandparents and other family members, and finally by anyone who so desired, for it takes a great deal of dirt to fill even a small grave. When the solemn task was nearly accomplished, David placed Liat's blanket on top of the smoothed-over soil and, together, he and Heather, on their knees, carefully filled in the edges of the grave. It was real, and it broke your heart.
Yet, David had said to all gathered at the Temple earlier--and I believed it was true, for I've only known him to be a person of the highest, deepest integrity--he felt no anger and did not question (as many of us do about far lesser things), "why us, why her?" Instead, he said, they felt utterly thankful, blessed by gratitude for her life, her love, and for her time with them. They'd not been abandoned by God-they'd been carried by God, throughout their travail. And supported by an outpouring of love and prayers from family, friends and congregants.
How did they reach such a place of acceptance and thanksgiving so soon after their small daughter's death, only three weeks after her diagnosis and surgery?
I can only imagine that they faced each day since Liat's diagnosis prayerfully, one day at a time, doing whatever was good and right and loving to do on each and every day. And that this had long been their custom, and so they trusted it even as their troubles began.
At the closing of the memorial service for Curtis, I read these words by Robert Terry Weston, a UU minister who died in 1980. Love binds all hearts in bonds of fellowship and courage. They who love unselfishly face even the depths with courage, for their strength is the strength of many and their courage rests upon the love of friends.
In the face of someone's death, we often invoke for ourselves "the peace that passes understanding." Such peace comes to those whose love, even in the midst of grief, has brought them to acceptance and thanksgiving. Such peace is partly earned, partly a gift-
love's gift to those who love.
May it be a gift well known to us all, to the children among us, and to their children's children. Amen.
"Our Sikh Neighbors"
I wasn't really aware that people practicing the Sikh tradition were living in Massachusetts until a local Sikh man was arrested in the week after September 11th in an Amtrak train on the Boston- New York line, feared for the small ceremonial sword he wore and suspected of being of Middle Eastern descent.
I knew there were Sikh's living in California, though, because, when my daughter went to rural Mexico to live and work on community health issues two summers ago, the other volunteer assigned to her town was a Sikh teenager from Berkeley! Despite sharing a room and an intense experience for six weeks, they apparently did not talk religion, because upon my daughter's return home, she did not admit to learning anything about Sikhism, to my disappointment. I guess there were more important things to figure out, like when would the supplies for the latrines arrive and how do you convince people to want one? I remember anticipating that the people in my daughter's assigned village would probably be amazed to see her golden red hair, but in fact what impressed them most was Jazdeep's hair which was down to her knees, as is the case with observant Sikhs!
After the arrest of a Sikh man in September, I wanted to learn about our Sikh neighbors. Thus this sermon. My sources of information were World Religions in Boston: A Guide to Communities and Resources, a project of the Pluralism Project at Harvard University and edited by Diana L. Eck, and her book, A New Religious America: How a "Christian Country" Has Become the World's Most Religiously Diverse Nation, as well as an excellent website at www.sikhs.org!
The Sikh tradition began in India. As the Boston guide notes, " India is rich with religious traditions. Not only is there the Hindu tradition [of many gods] with its many forms and movements [such as the Brahmo Samaj from which our Unison Reading came this morning], India is the birthplace of the Buddhist tradition and the Jain tradition, both in the 6th century BCE (that is, before Jesus). There [have been] Christians in India from the early Christian centuries onward, tracing their history to the apostle Thomas. There has long been a Jewish community in India as well, largely in Kerala and in Bombay. In the tenth century, Islam came to India and over the course of centuries a rich and distinctive Indo-Muslim culture has developed. Zoroastrians or Parsis left Persia and settled in the Bombay area, and the Sikh tradition had its genesis in the part of northwest India called the Punjab" with the teaching of its founder the Guru Nanak Dev who lived from 1469 to 1539.
There are even Unitarians in India, more than 10,000 of them, mostly in the Khasi Hills in the state of Assam. Unitarianism in India began in the 19th century by an Indian man who rejected the Trinitarian teachings of the Welsh Presbyterian missionaries to the Khasi hills and founded a new religion reclaiming the traditional Khasi religion "in a progressive new form," minus its practice of animal sacrifice, but retaining its belief "in one great and loving creator god, mother and father of all that is, and. in the duty of people to respond to God's love by loving others and doing right." (Ken Sawyer in sermon "The Khasi Hills of India").
Well, the many religions of India may be the context, but it's not the subject of our discussion today. Clearly, the Sikh tradition developed in religiously fertile soil.
The founder and first of ten gurus in the Sikh tradition, Guru Nanak, has an interesting story. Born in 1469, his family was Hindu but his father worked for the local Muslim authorities. It is said that as a child he had both Hindu and Muslim friends, and as a young cattle herder, he would spend long hours absorbed in meditation and in religious discussions with both Muslim and Hindu holy men who lived in the forests around his village of Talwandi in the Western Punjab. To discourage his spiritual inclinations, a marriage was arranged for him at age 16; it would be 9 years before the first of two sons were born and another five before a profound religious experience caused him to leave his job and his family to begin, at age 30, a life of traveling and preaching the message of God.
His message was a monotheistic one, neither Muslim nor Hindu, and he propagated it largely through lessons and song, accompanied by an old Muslim childhood friend and musician, Mardana. The written record of his teachings, and that of the nine gurus to come, is preserved in the Sikh Holy Scriptures, referred to as the Guru Granth Sahib or Adi Granth.
After years of traveling, on their way home, Guru Nanak and Mardana stopped at Saidpur in western Punjab during the invasion of the first Mogul Emperor Babar. On seeing the extent of the massacre by the invaders, Mardana asked Guru Nanak why so many innocent people were put to death along with those few who were guilty. Guru Nanak told Mardana to wait under a banyan tree and after a while he would return to answer his question. While sitting under the tree Mardana was suddenly bitten by an ant. In anger Mardana killed as many ants as he could with his feet. Guru Nanak said to him, "You know now Mardana, why do the innocents suffer along with the guilty?"
Guru Nanak and Mardana were both taken prisoner by the Mogul's. While in jail Guru Nanak sang a divine hymn about the senseless slaughter of the innocents by the Mogul invaders. Upon hearing it, the jailer reported it to his king. Babar sent for the Guru and upon hearing him realized that Guru Nanak was a great religious figure. He asked for the Guru's forgiveness and set him free offering him a pouch of hashish. Guru Nanak refused, saying that he was already intoxicated with the love and name of God.
Seven years before his death, Guru Nanak encountered a new devotee who would become his most ardent disciple and then his successor. As the Guru's death was nearing, the Hindus said they would cremate him, as was their custom, and the Muslims said they would bury him, as was their custom. Guru Nanak said, "You place flowers on either side, Hindus on my right, Muslims on my left. Those whose flowers remain fresh tomorrow will have their way." He then asked them to pray and lay down, covering himself with a sheet. It is said that on September 22, 1539 in the early hours of the morning, Guru Nanak merged with the eternal light of the Creator. When the followers lifted the sheet they found nothing except the flowers, which were all fresh. The Hindus took theirs and cremated them, while the Muslims took their flowers and buried them (All information about Guru Nanak from www.sikhs.org website).
Sikhism has more than a century of history in the United Sates. The first Sikhs to settle in the U.S. became farmers and build gurdwaras in the agricultural area around Stockton, CA in the 1870's. The gurdwara is a place of congregation and worship, housing the scriptures, the Guru Granth Sahib.
In the Boston area, according to the Guidebook, "the first Sikh group met in the mid-1960's when there were approximately twenty Indian-born Sikh families in the area. They formed a study group and met monthly for a number of years, renting a hall for weddings and for festivals such as the birthdays of the Guru Nanak and Guru Gobind Singh, the last Guru. It was not until 1988 that a growing Sikh community began looking for a good place to found a more permanent home. Since the gurdwara would need to serve the wider New England area, they looked for a suburban location near major highways. In 1990, the community purchased a former Kingdom Hall in Milford and opened the gurdwara the next year.
As of seven years ago, when the religions of Boston guidebook was published, the gurdwara in Milford had 50 families in regular attendance and 250 for special occasions. Their Sunday program is an almost all day event including the reading of prayers in Punjabi from the Guru Granth Sahib. Any member of the congregation can lead the prayers, including the children. Then there is a simple meal. After the meal, children play outside, while the adults gather to socialize. There is time reserved for lectures and talks, which can be religious or political. All are welcome, and no donations are required. Loose clothing is advisable because people sit on the floor.
The other Sikh community in the Boston area is composed of American-born Sikhs who are followers of the Sikh Dharma movement launched here in the 1970's by Yogi Bhajan. The group emphasizes the chanting and study of the Sikh scriptures, along with yoga practice and meditation, and celebrates the Sikh holy days. This community was first visible in the Boston area during the 1980's when its members in white clothes and turbans ran a very successful business, which you may remember, the Golden Temple Emporium, in Harvard Square. As of seven years ago, their Guru Ram Das Ashram in Millis, located in a former Jewish summer camp, had about fifty adults in residence.
The Sikh religion is said to be the world's fifth largest, with 22 million followers, 500,000 of them in the United States. Observant Sikhs set themselves apart visually, not because they feel they are a chosen people, but to build enthusiasm and unity. Neither men nor women cut their hair; the men wear a turban, a steel bracelet, a comb, a special type of undershorts, and carry small ceremonial swords called kirpan. The four doors on every gurdwara are a reminder that all are welcome to enter, regardless of religion, race, gender, or social class.
When I planned this sermon topic, I thought it would be interesting to visit a gurdwara n preparation. Unfortunately, the week did not lend itself to that kind of outing.
Today might be an especially festive day to visit, though. Today is Basakhi, a celebration day when even Sikhs who do not attend the gurdwara regularly will be sure to attend. Fairs and parades are held.
Basakhi marks the beginning of the New Year for Sikhs and commemorates the formation of the Khalsa by the last Guru Gobind Singh. The Khalsa is like a religious order into which Sikhs may be initiated, indicating their higher spiritual development and religious devotion. They must wear all the symbols and follow the teachings of the Gurus and scriptures. Many Sikhs choose to be baptized into the Khalsa on this day.
A Sikh's goal is to attain release from the cycle of death and rebirth and achieve union with God. A Sikh does this through meditation, prayer, service to humankind, charity, honesty and by avoiding the five vices: lust, anger, greed, attachment, and ego.
Even though their goal and their practices are not controversial, Sikhs in America are often the target of hate crimes. So, in September 2000, the president of the Sikh Council on Religion and Education spoke at a Washington rally supporting the anti-hate crimes legislation pending before Congress. He said,
I stand before you today as an advocate of anti-hate crimes legislation. Hate crimes are a challenge to all religious believers. While religion preaches that we are all God's children, hate crimes are evidence of a pernicious belief that those who are different, be it in race creed, ethnicity, or sexual orientation not only cannot claim God's grace, but may actually be subjected to physical harm. This is a belief that no religion can accept, and it is particularly anathema to Sikhs, with their traditions of tolerance and mutual understanding.America is a nation of diversity, and it is strong to the extent that we respect each other's beliefs, customs, and achievements. Passage of anti-hate crimes legislation will put the practitioners of hate on notice that they cannot do violence to those whom they may not like and expect to get away with it. (A New Religious America, p. 75).
Most likely, we Unitarian Universalists were represented at that same rally, saying very much the same thing as our Sikh neighbors, evoking our belief in the Inherent worth and dignity of every individual and in Justice, equity, and compassion in human relations. Amen.