First Parish Unitarian UniversalistIn These Times
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
March 16, 2003
In the Broadway musical version of “The Lion King” there is a song called “Endless Night.” It was not in the Walt Disney movie and so may not be familiar to those of you whose children watched the video so many times you’ve unwittingly memorized the movie’s songs. I’m moved by its haunting quality and the hope at the end.
The story is loosely based on the story of Sundiata, the great 13th century king of Mali in West Africa. As the modern version goes, Simba the lion cub is the son of the great king Muphasa and from an early age he knows that one day he will be king. The day of his father’s death comes way too soon, at the hand of the king’s jealous brother, who tricks young Simba into believing he was the cause of his father’s death. Distraught with guilt, he feels he cannot face his mother and the rest of his people, and wanders off. He meets up with a couple ne’er-do-well’s who introduce him to a life of ease, and he matures, forgetting his heritage, his lineage, his people, his power to do good in the world.
Things at home get so bad with the mean brother as king that one of Simba’s peers, formerly his best childhood friend and now a young lioness, sets off to look for help. They meet. She tells him of the fate of their people. She enjoins him to return and fight for his people as his father’s son.
Simba resists his calling, his future. In facing the long dark night of his fear, he sings this song, longing for his father. Looking at his own image in a darkened pool, he sees instead his father’s image. In that instant, he knows he must trust that the strength to be his father’s son, the rightful king, is within him. Hope is reborn, and he joins in the chorus, “I know that this night will end, and that the sun will rise. I know that the clouds must clear and that the sun will shine.”
There will always be a sunrise. Sometimes, perhaps in these times, the only hope that rings true to us is for the sun to rise in the morning. For it’s true, there is always a new day, until the day comes that is our last.
Even in the deepest of our despairing days, when we are filled with foreboding for ourselves, our family, our country, our world, the morning comes. We can trust in the sun to rise.
We can trust in the spring to come, too, as the poet Sara Teasdale says,
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And Swallows circling with their shimmering sound;And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
It’s not likely that we’ll be gone, we know that. And, so, whether war comes or not, when Spring comes, let us marvel in the singing frogs and the robins, the soft rains and the rich smell of the earth.
These are despairing times. These times are, perhaps, worse than wartime. The whole world waits, poised, teetering on the edge of a war which, if it happens, will have been initiated by our government, making us in some sense collectively responsible no matter whether we have supported, protested, or been ambivalent about it.
With foreboding, we wait. The edge of war keeps moving farther away, even as the president declares it is closer at hand. This is profoundly crazy-making, isn’t it? Even those of us who are pacifists (which I am not) or believe that we can win against Saddam Hussein without war (which I do) might be tempted to wish that war be declared soon just to have the suspense over, but instead we attend the vigil tonight or write one more letter to an elected official. And those who support this war, feel we should get on with it. The pressure is intense.
It’s like a bad dream. You are in a canoe heading for a precipitous waterfall: as the canoe approaches the edge, your fierce paddling is powerless to effect any change. Yet, inexplicably, the waterfall gets no closer, though the current is obviously taking you there. That’s when you wake up, relieved that it’s over.
How do we live in these times, on the edge of war, fearing terrorism, and in a failing economy? This is an economy in which we, or loved ones, may lose our jobs, even our homes. Last Sunday afternoon just as I was ready to leave First Parish, a man with mental health issues visited me. He was looking for help to pay for the motel room where he and his mother are living, their possessions in storage, while they wait on the waiting list for a Section 8 (publicly funded) apartment. He produced his Section 8 housing voucher and a receipt from the hotel, so I could see he was for real. The hotel costs $63/night. How long can they live there? When their names come to the top of the list, will there be any Section 8 funding left?
How do we find hope?
In other times, one can say, “things will get better.” But, in these times, they may not get better soon. So, we must create “the better” from within and around ourselves, and trust that we do, like Simba, have the strength to do so.
How to have hope? Here are five ways.
One. If you haven’t already, take control of your news. We may not be able to change the news, but we can control how we get it. Do not listen to commercial radio station and television programming that increase your anxiety. Stay away from hype, innuendo and stereotyping. Do not stay tuned to “all-news, all-day-long” stations whether radio or tv. Choose your talk shows carefully. You don’t need to know everything that happens as it happens. In my experience, National Public Radio is calmer, more thorough in its news coverage and less anxiety-producing. I do not watch television news. I read the Globe everyday instead, and if I am in my car or cooking during NPR’s morning and evening news programs, I listen. I try to tune into Bill Moyers news program “Now” at 9 on Friday nights. He is eminently thoughtful, and calm, like a Mr. Rogers for adults. The mainstream media—print, radio, tv—is controlled by a handful of corporations, so find yourself an alternative source, for balance. I like The American Prospect, a monthly news analysis magazine, and Funny Times, also monthly and very reasonable, full of timely cartoons, essays and columns by humorists of a progressive persuasion. Make hope--take control of your news.
Two. Enjoy the arts! Music, like what we’ve heard this morning, or whatever it is that you enjoy most. There are many wonderful, low-cost musical opportunities in Canton and nearby towns. Often, we have flyers posted in the Parish Hall. Make a practice of attending local high school concerts and drama productions—they’re affordable, spirited, and it’s very hope-making to experience the talents of young people! Visit the Museum of Fine Arts; there’s no admission fee on Wednesday nights between 4 and 9:45 and it’s two dollars less than normal on Thursdays and Fridays after 5. Watch the local paper for local art exhibits. Better yet, make music, drama and art yourself—join our choir, do community theater, buy some paints and paper! Literature. Poetry, plays, novels. Go to the library. Form or join a book group. Write yourself! Choose one of the arts and make it your “thing” for 2003. You will be enthralled by the creative ability of your fellow human beings. It may transport you to a new world for a while. And when you come back to the real one, you’ll feel refreshed by hope. Make hope--enjoy the arts!
Three, nourish your spirit. These are times for spiritual values, not material values. Spiritual values cost nothing and give you everything. The beauty of the natural world is available to us every day, every hour, every moment; it’s not just out there when we are on vacation. But, you have to be paying attention. Last night, did you notice the beautiful sunset? Did you see your moonshadow? The children who were here last night while their parents were at a Circle Supper went on a nighttime walk in the cemetery, and we all saw our moonshadows. So clear on the snow. Amazing. But, you have to be paying attention! Awe is a spiritual experience, as is gratitude. The natural world is always out there to evoke awe and gratitude in us. Those experiences are available to us at any moment, if only we would pay attention! Make it a regular part of your day to notice and appreciate your surroundings. Make hope--nourish your spirit!
Four. Attend to your work, whatever it is, and by work I don’t mean just your paid job if you are lucky enough to have one. Your work is what you give to society that keeps it going. In these times, it’s important just to keep on keeping on. Maintain a routine. In these times, it is also more important than ever to give of yourself in some kind of voluntary service to others. Doing good offsets the horror of war if it comes. It could be as simple as just being helpful to someone who is not expecting it, once each day. Or it could be a community service in which you develop relationships over time. Join the First Parish folks serving dinner to the homeless in Boston on Friday night the 28th. Take the bread donation to Mainspring House in Brockton today—see Lyn about that! Teach an RE class. Help out at the Food Pantry in your town. Volunteer in a school library. Make hope—give of yourself through work and service!
And, lastly, five. Attend to the people you love, even if they live far away. Hold them in your heart in a time of silent meditation each day—name them, one by one, shine your light on them. Attend to the people you love--those that live nearby and especially those that live with you--make good time for them. Have fun together, laugh, go to a candlelight vigil. Share a meal and your real feelings about these times in which we live, especially with your children. Play games. Go on walks. Lonely? Attend to the people who you could come to love if you knew them better—make new friends with a neighbor or colleague, speak to someone you don’t know at Coffee Hour, or join a Covenant Group (the Monday night group would welcome new members!). Make hope—attend to love!
So, let me review. Five ways to make hope in these times.
Take control of your news. Enjoy the arts. Nourish your spirit. Give of yourself through work and service. And attend to love.
Five ways to make hope in these times. The sun will rise again. And spring will soon be here. Amen.