April 2001
We Affirm Our Kindred Spirits
It's Sunday morning and, from an aircraft carrier in the Pacific, CLF member
Scott William Kasmire has agreed to start the weekly Sharing of Joys and
Concerns on the CLF member e-mail list. He will begin the morning with his
own words, so others who log on to participate will find a greeting and then
he will close the day with a final message.
We Unitarian Universalists sometimes come under fire from members of other
denominations for brazenly thinking we know better than the sacred works.
Personally, I have been accused of thinking I am God, since I can decide
what's divine and what's not.
Actually, I have some difficulty defining divine and sacred. But I do know
one thing: Every day I experience joys and concerns. However dramatic or
subtle they may be, I try to pause and notice them-indeed I should honor
them because they remind me of what's most important to me: what is me. As
though I were blind, they reveal to me the shape of my spirit through
feeling. They are the validation stamp on the card that says I'm human.
Without them I am dead. By sharing them, I participate in what I can only
call sacred.
I invite you now to share in what may be the world's only weekly fully
electronic religious ritual by a major denomination. Throughout today,
members of our church from around the globe will post joys and concerns
electronically via wires, computers, cables, and satellites. These messages
will appear on our computer screens as regular e-mail.
They are not.
We should not think they are. In our church, on-line, they are our holy
communion.
Some people will read the messages as they come in. Some people will save
them to read all at once. Some people will light a candle (or chalice) and
play special music. And some people will just shake their heads softly and
know the joy of connection within their hearts.
By doing this, we affirm more than Unitarian Universalism. We affirm our
kindred human spirits, now able to touch and share love, miles no longer
meaning distance.
I am moved to raise my sacred coffee cup and drink in celebration of our
brazen, Unitarian Universalist, human creation of the divine.
I was 13 when I first learned about UUs, 23 when I joined. But there was an
observation I made that I think is important. The Unitarian Universalists I
observed, for the most part, have one thing in common: They are all
genuinely trying to be the best possible persons they can be. And that is a
wholly spiritual endeavor. I often say I'm not trying to be the best sailor
I can be, or the best writer, or the best instructor, or the best UU-I'm
trying to be the best ME I can be. And whether they were conscious of this
or not, those Unitarian Universalists impressed me with that quality.
Good Sunday morning, everyone.
And at the end of the day, Scott's closing of Joys and Concerns:
In our online church, we share many things. Mainly, we share our thoughts
and opinions, things that we've learned, issues that rankle us. But on
Sundays, we've begun to share something a little more
precious.
An "in-person" church will find it an easier task to put faces and stories
to the names and ideas. We are challenged with a positive effort to do so.
On Sundays, we make that effort to make our church fulfill these amorphous
functions. We make our electronic church a palpable foundation for our
spiritual
affirmation.
I find that a good thing. I think it is quite amazing actually. And we are
blessed (by whom, indeed, is
another discussion).
For all those parts of us we have shared today, and all those things we've
kept to the confines of our own circles, we celebrate the 'human' in
Humanism. May we take these gifts with us throughout our week, and with
love, throughout our lives.
Good Sunday evening, everyone.
This, too, is from Scott when he took a vacation in Russia, and, to the
great joy of everyone on the CLF e-mail list, actually met (for the first
time) with another CLF member, this time from Russia: Alexander Kashansky.
"I stepped off the plane," Scott said later, "and there he was holding a
sign with my name on it. We only said a greeting because the airport was
crowded. So we rushed off to the taxi. We tried an actual conversation in
the car on the way to the hotel and I gave him a silver double chalice lapel
pin. We went out for dinner afterward..."
I found a computer.as it happens, I was able to check in with our CLF-List
after all.
I was very pleased to be able to explain the difference between the words "desert" and "dessert" to our own fellow CLF-List member, Alexander
Kashansky, complete with the visual aids of two gigantic ice cream sundaes
at TGI Friday's in downtown Moscow. Yesterday I was able to meet his
beautiful wife and daughters. Today, we are in Siberia and are to fly by
helicopter to hike in the mountains.
Who says you can't make friends over the Internet?
And, um, about that annual pledge I said I couldn't afford. uh, well.. I'll
send a bigger check next time. I promise.
From the Siberian City of Krasnoyarsk:
I will tell you that Alexander Kashansky and I and the fire chief of
Alexander's city all went to the most beautiful place on earth (that I have
yet seen). We were at a lake nestled in the Sayan mountaintops (I'm told it
was 250-300 km in any direction to anything human).
There was a small cabin there (the only structure in the entire area) where
we spent two nights.
We wished you each could have joined us at the campfire for tea, vodka
(optional of course), and conversation. Topics included Russian and American
history, politics, people, art, and, of course, literature. How far one has
to travel for good conversation with another UU!
From back on the aircraft carrier:
I am back safely from my holiday in Siberia and Moscow. It was a joy to meet
a fellow CLF member, especially such a farsighted and pragmatic one as
Alexander Kashansky. There, in the "middle of Russia," lives a Unitarian
Universalist. I must thank you yet again, Alexander.
From Virginia Felker, CLF e-mail list
I experienced a real thrill when I read Scott's posting about his meeting
with Alexander. Wasn't that incredible? Just another manifestation of the
bonding we are experiencing in this great on-line congregation of ours. . .
This article was compiled from e-mail messages by Scott William
Kasmire to the CLF list-many without their original openings and closings,
which has changed the original flow. Scott's patience with our editing has
allowed us to offer CLF members a sample of how the e-mailed Joys and
Concerns service works and the story of how CLF members from different parts
of the world met in friendship.
Thank you, Scott!
Quest April 2001 Contents
The Rebirth, Waking Up and Arrival of Spring
by Charles J. Stephens, minister, Unitarian Universalist Church at
Washington Crossing, Titusville, N.J.
Let me tell you a tale from ancient Rome. It was the start of the new year
for the Romans. They had adopted the Phrygian god Attis, grandson of the
goddess Cybele. As is true in many traditions, the Roman year began on the
vernal equinox. In mid-March, in honor of Attis, a pine tree representing
him was chopped down, wrapped in a linen shroud, decorated with violets, and
placed in a sepulcher in the temple. On Black Friday, the priests of the
cult would cut themselves with knives as they danced, showing they
sympathized with Cybele, Attis' grandmother, in her grief. Two days later, a
priest opened the sepulcher at dawn, revealing that it was empty and
announcing that the god was saved. This day was known as Hilaria or the Day
of Joy.
The Christian Easter holiday, a celebration of new life, is based on the
familiar story told about Jesus, his death on the cross, and his
resurrection three days later. Less well known, however, are the many, much
earlier variations on this theme of death and resurrection. This theme has
had a universal appeal going back 6,000 years and more. Each year, ancient
peoples mourned as mother earth faded away and then they rejoiced in her
restoration. Humans speculated on what the annual pageant of nature meant.
They knew that mother earth and father sky never died. Yet, the spirit of
the sun faded during the winter cold and the spirit of the corn and tree
died away. Our ancestors' spirits rejoiced each spring as the warmth of
earth and sky rose again.
Since the beginning of time, men and women wove stories about this great
pageant. Every year the son of god, or the daughter, or lover, of earth was
slain, or died, or was dragged to the underworld. Humankind mourned with
mother earth, and rejoiced in her restoration. Most cultures celebrated
spring holidays and many dedicated them to mother goddesses: Astarte, Isis,
Aphrodite, Cybele, and the Virgin Mary. This is the time when mother nature
or the goddess demonstrates her potential for life and abundance with
blossoms and leaves on the trees, crops coming up out of the cold earth,
birds mating, and young animals being born. It is again time for planting.
Humanity feels
reassured that life will continue.
The Story of Jesus is similar in many ways to the story of Attis. Jesus, son
of a virgin mother, died on Good Friday, and his followers, after mourning
his death, announced that he had left his tomb and was resurrected to new
life. Attis, also son of a virgin mother, died in front of a pine tree, was
mourned by his friends until his tomb was found empty because he had risen.
A similar story was told in the region of Palestine and Mesopotamia, only
with a different cast of characters. The Babylonian Tammuz died and was
sought in the underworld by the goddess Ishtar. The Palestinians called
Tammuz "Adon," which the Greeks turned into "Adonis," the beautiful young
god who became the lover of Venus. Adonis also died and rose again every
year.
In nearly all the lands where Christianity spread, there was a slain and
resurrected god, and a dramatic annual celebration of his death and
resurrection. In Egypt the words, "I am the Resurrection and the Life" had long been chanted about Osiris, the
old and revered Egyptian god of the dead who was resurrected after his
burial rites had been properly observed. The old tale reappeared in the
Greek myth of Demeter and Persephone, which is substantially like its
Asiatic and Egyptian counterparts. In this tale, however, the story involves
a dead daughter, Persephone, bewailed by her sorrowing mother, Demeter,
goddess of the earth. Persephone, while gathering flowers, was kidnapped by
Pluto and was taken to the land of the dead.
I wonder as we have marked the 31st Earth Day observation and we realize
that the annual spring pageant of nature is being threatened by our severely
polluting the air, the water, and the land. Will these parallel myths need
altering? There has been a confidence that though they would fade and
recede, mother earth and father sky would never die. They would always be
there. But with humanity's increasing impact on our planet, with global
warming, and evidence of ever-larger ozone holes, we find ourselves in need
of new and powerful myths-myths that will call us into restorative actions.
Picture in your mind a child of god or the daughter or the lover of earth
being dragged down into the underworld for longer and longer every year. We
continue to mourn with mother earth at the onset of winter and we rejoice in
the restoration that takes place in spring. But we wonder, "Will the
regenerative cycle continue?"
We are just beginning to realize our place as responsible co-creators of the
Earth's fate. We are beginning to accept that we are responsible, and that
we are more than just creators of the myths. But, increasingly, as
co-creators with the universe of a needed regeneration, we are being called
on to develop ways that will help heal the wounds we have inflicted on our
holy mother-the earth. When we, as the people of the earth, develop not only
the way to do this but also the united will to do it, then we will be able
to celebrate and rejoice in the Earth's rebirth. We will hear the reassuring
announcement: "She is risen," and then we can respond, in confidence, "She
is risen indeed."
Quest April 2001 Contents
It Is Finished
by Tim Kutzmark, minister, the Unitarian Universalist Community Church,
Glen Allen, Virginia
"So they took Jesus . . . to what is called the Place of the Skull-in
Hebrew, "Golgotha." There they crucified him . . . There was a jar of cheap
wine nearby, so they put a sponge soaked in the wine on a stick and raised
it to his lips . . . Jesus took the wine and said, "It is finished." (John
19:17-18a, 29-30)
If you had met Bruce, you would remember his eyes. Not so much for their
watery blue color, but for what you would imagine they were seeing. Bruce's
eyes were like a combination of searchlights and scalpels, simultaneously
revealing and dissecting. Bruce seemed to see through and inside things, as
if some layer were being peeled back for his eyes only. You'd swear he saw
something inside that the rest of us only vaguely imagined.
Bruce looked at Yoga and meditation and saw a pathway into himself and his
God. As his Yoga instructor, I knew he worked hard at his practice. When
confronted with a challenging posture, he would brace himself and fight to
get through it. "Bruce, breathe. Don't tighten, release. Let go. There is
something greater that will hold you."
When the cancer came, he stared into it, as if to find its truth. Each week
he would arrive for spiritual practice, eager for insight. Even after
multiple surgeries, he was there, propped up on a throne of pillows,
spaced-out on medication, searching. He was going to heal. He was going to
live. And he grew sicker. "Why doesn't my work pay off? I'm doing everything
right!"
Bruce journeyed to the Holy Land. He prayed where Jesus, his inspiration,
had prayed the night before he died. Then, Bruce stood at Golgotha.
Several weeks after his pilgrimage, I visit Bruce. The cancer is in his
lungs now. He can't talk. "Are you OK if this is the end?" I ask. His eyes
search the future. Bruce takes a tablet, and writes: "It is time to let go.
It is finished."
Letting go. Reaching the moment when you say, "It is finished." We live in a
world that doesn't exactly encourage that kind of thinking.
This is a world that champions, "No pain, no gain. You hold on and you
fight. You make it work." We have to be like that perky Energizer bunny in
the TV commercial, and just keep going and going and going. But is that
really possible? Doesn't there come a time when we must release our hold,
and free-fall into the future? We've all had to do it, in some way or
another. Letting go of a relationship, a child, an expectation, an image of
ourselves, a dream. It can be so hard to let go. Because many of us believe
that letting go means giving up. Letting go means "the end." And yet, aren't we again and again presented with those moments that ask us to let
something die in order for something else to come alive?
The story of Bruce takes us to that moment. For Bruce, it was the story of
Jesus that gave him the courage to meet that moment.
Jesus stood on the edge of Good Friday, worn out by a life that wasn't going
the way he had planned. He thought he was ushering in a new kind of world.
He reached into the dirty alleyway to touch the man with leprosy, the man
from whom everyone else recoiled in disgust. He fashioned a whip and
threatened the moneychangers who were profiting from the very lives of
people they thought didn't matter. He placed himself in front of the woman
about to be stoned, challenging those priests and teachers of the law to see
how they had managed to forget their own sins in their rush to judge and
punish. Justice was his mission. Compassion was his heart's song. But the
outcome was so terrible. Instead of finding justice, he found betrayal.
Instead of meeting with compassion, he was deserted. Instead of being hailed
as the leader of a new world, he was nailed to a tree. And the last thought
that ran through his mind was: "It is finished." It is finished. The words
of a defeated dreamer.
But it isn't finished. It has barely begun.
In just days, his friends would come out of hiding. In just weeks, strangers
would tell the story of the one who dared to call all people, children of
the Holy. In just months, his radical vision of human worth would take on a
power that would surge across an empire. And two thousand years later, we
Unitarian Universalists-Atheists, Buddhists, Christians, Humanists, Pagans,
Theists alike-would all champion this same vision of justice. Two thousand
years later the Rev. Kay Jorgenson would enter an alleyway in San Francisco
to embrace a homeless man, giving hope to one to whom the world gave only
tears. Two thousand years later, the Rev. Meg Riley would walk the halls of
Washington crying out against economic injustice. Two thousand years later,
Unitarian Universalists would challenge the Boy Scouts of America to see how
they have distorted the ideal of virtue into an ideology of intolerance.
That is the irony when life takes us to the moment when we must let go. It
feels as if we are finished. But the truth is, we haven't even begun. Yes,
we must live through crucifixion. Yes, we must sometimes be buried in the
tomb for three days. But in some form, in some way, that stone will be
rolled away. This is the possibility of what many call God. For God, they
say, is the name for that power within us, among, and beyond us that dares
to make all things new.
Bruce's story takes us to that moment. "Are you OK if this is the end?" I
ask. His eyes search the future. Bruce takes a tablet, and writes: "It is
time to let go. It is finished." Then he continues: "It is
finished. But it is not the end."
Quest April 2001 Contents
What UUs Believe II
The Last issue [March] of Quest dealt with how UUs define what they believe.
The piece below, by the Rev. John Alexie Crane of the UU church of
Sangerville & Dover-Foxcroft, Sangerville, Maine, was published in the UU
Ministers' Association Chat last September and is reprinted with permission.
It continues this conversation and makes an excellent follow-up.
No doubt you have noticed, as I have, that if someone asks you, "What does
your church believe?" it is an awkward question. It's hard for UUs to find a
clear answer. Why in the world is this? We have existed for 200 years here
in the US, and for 400 years in Europe, for heaven's sake! Why can't we give
a direct answer to that simple question? It remains awkward because, unlike
almost every other church, we are not identified by our shared beliefs. We
have an unusual structure.
Most churches are identified by a shared body of traditional beliefs. Our
beliefs, on the other hand, are held not by the church, but by each of us
individually. Our beliefs vary widely: Christian, Jewish, Humanist, theist,
atheist, agnostic, mystic, etc. We are each free to believe as our own minds
and hearts dictate.
But why this insistence on individual freedom of belief? Because we have
learned by experience that, in religion, the truth that matters above all,
is not that which is expressed in a traditional holy book, nor in creeds or
doctrines; rather, it is the truth that emerges in the minds and hearts of
each living individual in community, as they share in a lifelong search for
truth and meaning. Understanding is more important to us than believing.
This is why we find it awkward to answer the question "What does your church
believe?" With us, it is not the church that believes, it is each individual
member who believes; and the beliefs vary from one to another. We don't as a
church cherish a body of final answers; each of us individually, with the
support and stimulation of a UU community, seeks always for growth in
understanding and awareness.
So what can we say to others in reply to that simple question, "What does
your church believe?" We can say our church is different from most others in
that its people do not come together around a shared body of traditional
belief. Rather they come together to share a search for growth in
understanding, a search based as much on reason and contemporary knowledge,
as on traditional teachings from the ancient world. And we don't limit
ourselves to one tradition alone, but draw on the accumulated wisdom in all
traditions.
Quest April 2001 Contents
CLF Library Notes
We regularly accumulate books, videotapes, and other materials and though we
do list them in the library loan catalog and on our web site, we also run
listings of materials in Quest when we have space. Our hope is that you'll
put your borrowing power to good use! If any of the items listed below
interests you, feel free to request it from the library by calling Giovanna
Spadaro at 617-948-6150, by emailing her at gspadaro@uua.org, or by writing
your request and mailing it to her in the Quest envelope enclosed in this
issue.
Celebrating Easter and Spring
(An anthology of Unitarian Universalist readings), compiled and edited by
the late Rev. Carl Seaburg and the Rev. Mark Harris.
This is an excellent worship resource-all from Unitarian Universalists. In
the preface, the editors say, "Some hold that Easter is an uneasy
celebration for Unitarian Universalists. We would argue the opposite. Easter
is part of our human heritage. We may not believe in the physical
resurrection of Jesus, but we can see in that celebration the message of
renewal."
Remembering Well,
by the Rev. Sarah York.
This book is dedicated to those who wish to have some memorial service for
their deceased loved ones but who are uncomfortable or unsure about how to
arrange it. Working with the concept that "grief needs to find a voice," Ms.
York offers diverse ways to honor the spirit of the dead and to represent
the wishes and needs of those who will attend the service. Remembering Well
is "written for anyone who has ever or will ever suffer through the death of
someone they loved. This includes those who wish to find new meaning in the
time-honored rituals of their Unitarian Universalist faith as well as those
who have broken with tradition."
Lifecraft (The Art of Meaning
in the Everyday),
by the Rev. Forrest Church.
This has been called "a spiritual guide for grown-ups." In this book, Mr.
Church draws clues for meaning from each of the great art forms. He likens
our life's journey to a series of works in progress presented daily at a
craft fair. In his words, "I invite you to unwrap yourself. First, open
your mind...and then open your heart. Meaning can be found almost anywhere,
but the meanings that matter most always spring from love. Forrest Church
gives the reader a poignant yet simple guideline to a practical yet modern
spirituality. His purpose is to show the reader that a life of meaning,
goodness, and wisdom is an ongoing project, one that is not simply
discovered but "created" by the choices we make every day.
The Prophetic Imperative (Social Gospel in Theory and Practice),
by the Rev. Richard S. Gilbert.
Mr. Gilbert provides Unitarian Universalists with a great resource for
social justice work in their congregations. By demonstrating that
spirituality and social action are inseparable, Richard Gilbert challenges
us to live our lives both as individuals and as members of congregations in
order "to both grow a soul and repair the world." He offers the benefit of
an entire lifetime of experience "shaping a community capable of inspiring
and serving not only the individuals within, but also the community and the
world beyond its walls."
Quest April 2001 Contents
 From Your Minister
by Rev. Jane Ranney Rzepka, minister, CLF
Sometimes, in the closets of churches-way in the back-you'll find long,
gauzy scarves in a variety of colors. They've been there a long time.
I remember why. From time to time, liturgical dance becomes popular in
Unitarian Universalist congregations, and one such period was the 1950s. We
wanted our young people to express themselves, we wanted to nurture their
creativity, we wanted them to enjoy their bodies, we wanted them to
experience first-hand the variety of forms that
religion could take.
So it was that I spent seven years bounding about barefooted in rented
elementary school gyms on Wednesday afternoons. Dancing "the Good Samaritan"
was my specialty, and while the Unitarians certainly had "no bad dancers" among their youth, I wasn't very good. But I was a springy sort of a child,
so I could leap, and I enjoyed employing this unusual gait in the service of
traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Our teacher seemed simultaneously frail and sturdy. She had orange hair, and
she arrived from the city every week with her cheerful round partner and a
long-suffering piano player who knew just what to do even though he couldn't
see. While I absorbed a lot about Unitarian values, embodiment, and
religion, I feel quite sure that our performances did nothing for those who
watched.
In fact, truth be told, I myself had never experienced a lick of inspiration
by watching liturgical dance until recently, when I visited a downtown
African American mega-church in Dallas, Texas.
During the service, when nobody expected it, about a dozen 14-year-old boys
of all shapes and sizes, wearing what they wear these days, emerged from
various pews among the congregation, moving in a liturgical dance to the
rhythms provided by the gospel choir. As they reacted to the words and
music, they seemed unaware of those of us who watched; they were authentic
in their physical testimony, and unabashed. It was as if the Junior Varsity
football team suddenly took to dancing its religion in church, glad to do
it. Watching them dance, I got religion.
One of the functions of religion is to offer renewal, hope, and a certain
lightness of heart, particularly at this time of year. We are looking for a
sense of freedom, an optimism about what comes next. During the course of
the boys' dance, I felt it all: Easter, Passover, and the new life of
spring, rolled into one.
I never know when it will happen, this spring holiday feeling, or why. Maybe
for you it shows up when you observe a special kindness from a cashier at
the mall, or when the crab apple blooms-the one you planted when your
brother died, or when the piece you've been practicing on the piano turns
out just perfect, or when the baby sleeps through the night. Maybe you're in
church, and the sermon and the music work together just right, or you change
medication and experience an unexpected new lease on life. A hilarious bit
on the Comedy Channel, favorite poetry on your bookshelf, new love, or a
clean house, finally. For me, this time, it was a moment of liturgical
dance.
This is not to say that life's finally going to be great-I know that our
time on earth is not all flowering crab trees and gestures of kindness at
the shopping center. There's no denying the rough spots, and, as we've all
heard too often, it's the contrast between difficult times and joy that
allows us our Easters, Passovers, and equinox celebrations. The poet Wislawa
Szymborska puts it plainly in her poem, "Theater Impressions," which
highlights the
curtain call:
For me the tragedy's most important act is the sixth:
The raising of the dead from the stage's battlegrounds,
The straightening of wigs and fancy gowns,
removing knives from stricken breasts,
taking nooses from lifeless necks,
lining up among the living
to face the audience.
During the spring holidays, at least in the northern hemisphere, ideally,
that's what happens. The nooses and knives go away, we spiff up our gowns
and wigs, and take our places across the stage, with happiness and hope,
among the living.
As Unitarian Universalists, we enjoy full freedom to make the most of our
holidays. Whatever you are celebrating at this time of year, may the dead
parts turn to life within, in whatever way you prefer, to face the freedom
and new awakening that lies ahead.
Jane Rzepka
Minister
Quest April 2001 Contents
A Special Thank You from CLF
Deb Till, CLF member from Alaska, donated a complete set of videotapes of
the PBS series, "On Our Own Terms: Moyers on Dying." It's a wonderful
contribution to our library, and we are very grateful to her. Below, you'll
find a description of the program, the subject last fall of a CLF real-time,
on-line discussion.
On Our Own Terms: Moyers On Dying (a videotape of the PBS four-part series
from a team of award-winning journalists) led by Bill and Judith Moyers.
In this unprecedented four-part series, Emmy award-winning journalist Bill
Moyers looks at how we die in America, providing an intimate window into the
daily experience of patients, their families, and their caregivers,
including the decisions they face and the changes they undergo. "On Our Own
Terms" presents remarkable human stories of the dying and their wishes to
meet life's ultimate passage with compassion, comfort, and dignity. Along
with this deeply personal perspective, we meet the medical, legal, and
public policy experts who offer suggestions for improving conditions for
terminal patients.
Quest April 2001 Contents
REsources for Living
by Laura Cavicchio, co-religious educator, Church of the Larger Fellowship
May nothing evil cross this door,
and may ill fortune never pry about these windows;
may the roar and rain go by.
By faith made strong, the rafters will
withstand the battering of the storm.
This hearth, though all the world grow chill,
Will keep you warm.
This time of the year, whether or not we celebrate Passover, we, as
Unitarian Universalists, like to tell the stories. Some of us who have come
out of a Jewish heritage may gather with our friends and families in our
homes or fellowships for a Seder meal. Others may wish to teach their
children about the history and traditions of the ancient festival of
Passover. I think that whatever religious identity or theology we may
personally embrace, we need the stories of struggle, deliverance, and
re-commitment that are inherent in the Passover message. We need them
because they recall us to the timeless truths that bind us to the human
family and help us to expand and to heal our ways of thinking and behaving.
Older still than the festival of Passover is the human desire to gain favor
and protection in the face of powers much greater than ours. In ancient
times, these were the powers that sustained human survival and prosperity by
ensuring fertility for the women and enough rain-but not too much rain-for
the crops and the harvest. To have protection meant kinship, and alignment
with strong but beneficent leaders and deities. To have one very strong god
in your corner, so to speak, watching over you, was to be spared life's
greatest perils and uncertainties. A time of real oppression, as when the
Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, was surely a time to wish that all the
bad things would go away, and that a saving hand would intervene to ensure
deliverance.
The desire for deliverance from all sorts of oppressions and evils, whether
caused by humans or by nature, is one of the themes of the Passover
tradition, which celebrates human freedom through active mutuality with God.
Through the ages and in our own times, we desire protection from the fear,
isolation, and pain that plague us in our human condition. We desire freedom
from the injustices of the world. We want release from responsibility. We
hope that the evil will pass us by.
"May nothing evil cross this door." These hopeful words of petition by the
poet Louis Untermeyer are also found in the title and the opening verse of
one of our most haunting Unitarian Universalist hymns. The hymn embodies a
universal human prayer for comfort and communion with all that is good and
life affirming. The Passover story is that prayer, and it is ours as well,
all times of the year.
We cry out in our profound human fragility and isolation. We seek comfort in
safe havens. As religious people, we also know that we have the
responsibility to go beyond the safe haven. We must be vigilant over
injustice and proactive for justice. We must teach our children about
mutuality. We must use our human capacities for resilience and resistance to
act for the good, despite the reality of evil. We must ceaselessly envision
a better world, and act upon that vision.
In the Biblical accounts, we see the Israelites enslaved in Egypt, and then
chosen by God to be saved. But their freedom only begins to be realized when
they act. They do what they must do. They mark their doorways with blood so
that the angel of death will pass them by. In haste, they seize their
unleavened bread, along with their courage and their hope, and they walk.
Even in their God's deliverance, their struggle is far from over. They must
wander in the wilderness for 40 years before they reach their Promised Land.
The story of Passover is one of freedom-envisioned and earned.
The spirit of Passover is kinship. In that spirit, I encourage you to set
aside some time to gather with friends and family for fellowship and
celebration. Perhaps you will have a traditional Seder service, and you will
observe the order of the Haggadah, including the asking of the four
questions, which begin, "Why is this night different from all other nights?"
An alternative is to create your own Unitarian Universalist ritual. It might
include the sharing of a special meal. You might invite children and adults
to share their stories, songs, and prayers from times of particular
challenge, courage, or hope. You might also pose some questions to answer
together. Here are the kinds of questions you might consider.
How, through habit or inattention, might we be passing-over things that we
most deeply value? For instance, is unnecessary consumerism causing us to
pass-over the love that we could be spending in the world, or with one
another?
How does excessive haste, busy-ness, or worry cause us to pass-over the
deepest joys of living, or limit our experience of the sacred in the every
day?
How do certain privileges or comforts that we take for granted cause us to
pass-over responsibility to act for a better world?
As members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship living all over the world,
may we feel the bonds of our kinship in this season of Passover. May we make
our own safe havens as we also teach our children to envision and to act for
a better world. May we be vigilant in our own lives as we walk in the light
of conscience and courage in the every-day Passovers of our lives.
MISSING BETSY? Betsy Williams, CLF's co-religious educator, is happily
devoting herself to ensuring the future of uu&me! and you can still reach
her at bwilliams@uua.org.
Quest April 2001 Contents
Rising To Life
by David S. Blanchard, minister,
the First Unitarian Universalist Society of Syracuse
I've always thought that Jesus makes a better hero than he does a God. I'll
take a hero with flaws any day over a perfect God. I'll take a hero that
lives and dies in the world I know, over a God that's capable of
transcending the limits of time and space that hold the rest of us
earthbound. I'll take the mythology of the hero whose life allows him or her
to transcend death, over the theology of the God that never could die, that
would never share the passage we take.
At Easter, I find plenty of cause to celebrate. Not the heroic in God,
though. After all, how hard can it be
for God to be a hero? But I do celebrate the heroic possibilities that I
have witnessed in human souls, when through resurrections of our own
fashioning,
we rise.
Rise to hope,
Rise to love,
Rise to heal,
Rise to forgive,
Rise to courage,
Rise to foolishness,
Rise to wisdom,
Rise, even to die.
But most essentially, to rise to life.
Not to die a hero, but to live as one.
May we rise to Life.
"Rising to Life" is from 1997 the UUA Meditation Manual, A Temporary State
of Grace, by the
Rev. David S. Blanchard. (Skinner House, UUA Bookstore item #5329. You can
purchase the manual at the 15% discount price of $5.95, plus $2.50 shipping
($8.45 total), until June 1, 2001. Use the envelope in this issue (post-mailed to all members) to send
your check made out to CLF/UUA Bookstore, or provide your MC or VISA number
and expiration date.
Quest April 2001 Contents
Last updated February 27, 2006
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