Sermons

To Save or Savor

8-31-25

Rev. Douglas Taylor

Sermon Video: https://youtu.be/OEj-ifcUj5I

I know E.B. White as the author of beloved children’s books like Stuart Little and Charlotte’s Web. Perhaps you know him for that definitive book about English writing – Strunk and White’s Element’s of Style. Then there is a vast collection of pieces he wrote of the course of years he spent as a regular essayist for The New Yorker. One of his pithy pieces is the starting point for my reflection today. E. B. White once wrote, “I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”

In my description of today’s worship service, I suggested that in the full quote White decides that savoring is more important. This is not true. The full quote only heightens the tension revealed in the shortened version.

The full quote was from a piece he did for the New Yorker in 1969 – after he’d won awards like the Newbury, so he had people’s attention.

“If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” The New York Times (11 July 1969)

Do you improve or enjoy the world? Do we save or savor the world? E. B. White is not remembered as an activist, exactly. His name is on the list of amazing writers, but not really on the list of social reformers or change agents who tried save the world. He certainly spoke about the issues of the day, advocating for justice and civil rights, for democracy and virtuous principles. But he said his desire was to improve the world and one can easily argue that he did.

He lived and wrote during challenging times. But they were not only challenging, they were also, as he says, seductive. His books and his pieces in The New Yorker had an impact on our lives – but the character of his writing leads me to believe he was able to enjoy the world splendidly. E. B. White seems to have been able to both improve and enjoy the world.

How do you plan to spend your day?

White said the times in which he lived were challenging. We also live in challenging times. It  has become numbingly normal to get news about the erosion of our democracy or attacks on the rule of law perpetrated by the executive branch of our federal government. Meanwhile thugs in masks are kidnapping people on the streets under the protection of our government. Meanwhile our trans siblings are losing protections and seeing society encouraged to fear them. Meanwhile our health care system is being run by conspiracy theorists instead of scientists, our Homeland Security is run by white nationalists, and our federal intelligence agencies are actively colluding to cover up the Epstein Files in plain sight. Plus we have a war in the Ukraine and a genocide unfolding in Gaza, and ridiculous international trade wars we are paying for here from our own pocketbooks. Billionaires keep getting richer and AI companies are stealing our data and identities for their own profit.

So, yes. I do arise each morning with the desire to improve the world. Do you want to save the world too? I want to protect the immigrants and refugees, I want to fight for better healthcare and vaccines, I want to defend the rights and protections of LGBTQ people. I see our unhoused and hungry people right here in Broome County and want to do something about it.

I have this desire to improve the world, and thankfully I’m part of groups that are doing exactly that. Our congregation just co-hosted a huge community barbeque that served over 400 meals. The UUA launched a campaign around Abolition with a focus on prison – and our congregation is going to tap into that this year. Our Systemic Housing Crisis social action team is working to raise funds and awareness of local legislative changes we can make and have partnered with a community land trust to create more sustainable housing to people. The Interfaith group that I am a part of is rebuilding itself after the pandemic – we are reestablishing local interfaith relationships. And our first official action was a Peace Walk at which we talked with and listened to each other – especially about Gaza.  And so much more – we’re in the middle of this, in the thick of it together. We are acting on that desire to improve the world, responding to the challenging times in which we live.

And it can be a lot. And is anyone here feeling overwhelmed by it all? Are you feeling scattered, frustrated, and numb? Sometimes I need to check out, escape, just drop everything and stare at some patch of earth or a quiet stream for a bit – or play keepy-uppy with my granddaughter for a while.

How about you? I am reminded that the better world we are building does not need me exhausted and burned out. This is more than just a conversation about self-care or justice-fatigue. You’ve heard the argument that we need to do our justice work like a choir singing a prolonged note together – different choir members take their breath at different times so the experience of the note is sustained while the individual singers each get to breath and no one person is carrying the whole prolonged note alone. You’ve heard that metaphor perhaps?  That’s not what I’m talking about.

E. B. White said the world is seductive. And he arises with a desire to enjoy the world. To savor it. This part is not just about taking a break. It’s about pouring some of your good energy into loving the world powerfully – savoring the beauty of it, enjoying life. Do you enjoy life?

This is not simply a matter of scheduling your day to do some improving in the morning and wrap that up to have time for savoring by 3:15. There is a way in which the desire to improve the world is borne from a critical dissatisfaction with the way things are. Things could be better, let’s get to work on that. But the desire to enjoy the world is borne from a recognition that the world is beautiful right now, just as it is.

Look at that amazing sunset! Listen to this elegant piece of music. Can I describe to you this cool game I found that I’m loving? Check out my new shoes – they look great and are soooo comfortable. If all my energy is on improving what’s wrong, how much energy do I have for enjoying what’s right?

Ah! But if I am so invested in savoring what’s right – am I blocking out or in denial about what’s wrong in the world around me? How might we both save and savor? Enjoy and improve?

Here’s a trick that works against us: we live in a late-stage capitalist society that pushes us to be dissatisfied with trivialities – Does your body smell wrong? Are you performing masculinity wrong? Is your dry skin keeping you from dating the right people? What if you are embarrassing your children because you drive the wrong car or buy the wrong food!

We certainly need to step back from this manufactured dissatisfaction and instead simply love the world as it is. The world is already amazing and so are you! You don’t need to be perfect to be loved.

And if you still feel compelled to be dissatisfied, let me gently tell you: no one cares about your ear hair – but brown-skinned people are being profiled by ICE, the CDC has stopped promoting vaccines, and the Epstein Files are still being covered up.  

E. B. White did not resolve the dilemma. White intentionally kept the tension of this dual yearning to both enjoy and improve the world. He did not want us to have the solution; he wanted us to experience the tension. I was wrong when I suggested that E. B. White’s full quote revealed his conclusion that savoring is more important than saving. He didn’t say that. It was a farm and garden blog I read that said that.

Katie Spring is a health-conscious, modern young blogger who writes about tomatoes and cabbages, about women-owned seed catalogues and ‘5 ways to stay grounded and avoid burnout when while starting a farm.’ In one of her posts, she raises E. B. White’s dilemma about saving and savoring the world https://katiespring.com/save-savor-world/ and says:

“It resonated so fully within me: the pull between wanting to protect, defend, and fight for the world and wanting to laugh, explore, and sink into the world’s beauty.  The two acts appeared so separate.”

She eventually realized that the two are not separate, but intwined – and indeed they begin with savoring. “Savoring leads to saving,” she writes, “because savoring leads to love.” It’s that simple.

I found her reasoning quite sound. “Savoring leads to saving because savoring leads to love.” That reminds me of a quote I had on a t-shirt when I was a teenager in the ‘80’s. The quote is by Senegalese conservationist Baba Dioum, who wrote: “In the end we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; and we will understand only what we are taught.” 

We will only save what we love. So my goal is to encourage you to love the world, to love you neighbors, to love those who live at the edges. To love the beauty you see in the world. “Savoring leads to saving because savoring leads to love.”

E. B. White loved the English language. He enjoyed the creation of an elegant English sentence. That one he wrote about enjoying world or improving the world was a product of his love. And it has spurred generations so far to grapple with the concept. Just in that one small example, he has improved the world.

Go read that cozy romance, play your lute, take a dance class, hug your people, make pithy protest signs, take someone on a hike to your favorite view, savor that fine meal, love your neighbor, and enjoy this world. We will only save what we love. Savor life, that you remember why it is so worth saving.

In a world without end,

May it be so.

To Know and Be Known

August 24, 2024

Rev. Douglas Taylor

Sermon video: https://youtu.be/lMpSscmevI4

Last month I was invited to preach up at First Unitarian in Rochester. It is the church where I grew up, where I attended Sunday School and youth group, where my mother was on staff and eventually was ordained to serve as their Minister of Religious Education. I’ve been invited back a few times to preach in the church where I grew up, and it is always a joy.

This summer I had the extra joy of sharing the service with a worship associate named Jenna Cohen. Jenna is a young adult who grew up here in our Binghamton congregation and as an adult is now a member up there is Rochester. Jenna snapped up the chance to be my worship associate when she saw my name on the schedule.

I mention all this to be able to tell you about a particular experience I had while I was there. They do the Open Words there service each Sunday morning in a particular way. It is now a well-worn tradition among them. The worship associate tells a personal story – they call it a “that’s why we come to church” story. Each week, someone tells a short, personal anecdote – often light-hearted, occasionally poignant – that reveals a basic, human experience of connection or insight. And the story always comes around to make the point “And isn’t that why we all come to church?”

Jenna’s story – which I am not going to share, because it’s her story, not mine to tell; if you want to you can ask Jenna some time to tell you her story – Jenna’s story was a bit of a sneak attack because while it was about her, I played a supportive role. “And my minister at the time, Rev. Douglas Taylor, supported me …”

Her conclusion, “And that’s why we come to church, isn’t it! To support each other through the good times and the hard times.” It was touching, and very relatable.

Why do you come to church? Ponder this question for a moment. I know I’ve already given away the answer I’m aiming at this morning with my title: “To Know and Be Known.” But ponder for a moment anyway and consider this question: why do you come to church?

Perhaps you show up because the people here are willing to partner with you in the work of justice – perhaps your passion is building a better world.

Perhaps you show up because you crave intellectual stimulation and the sermons are often intellectual enough to keep you showing up; or you find the classes and workshops and discussions fill that need you have to have new ideas.

Or maybe it is less academic and more about intellectual honesty – you want to you don’t have to pretend you believe a particular creed or doctrine to be allowed to participate.

Perhaps you show up because you are trans or gay and it’s just too rare to find a religious community that welcomes you. You can attend and not have to hide parts of yourself to be here.

It could be that you really like the music – the choir or our Vicky our music director, or the guest musicians we bring in to play. Or you really like to sing and you’re welcomed into the choir or just to sing along with the hymns – out loud, in public, without someone staring at you funny.

Or maybe it’s the opposite – not the music but the silence. Where else in your life do you get to sit with other people in silence for over a minute … on purpose.

Perhaps this is more personal – perhaps you come to church because you feel a little lost or you are hurting, and being in a spiritual space that accepts you is a balm for your weary soul.

Maybe you show up because it is one of the things that helps you stay sober, or because you have a friend who drags you along so they don’t feel so awkward coming alone, or because your kids need something religious and this place at least doesn’t teach them they are sinful and bad.

There are lots of reasons why a person might come to church, to this congregation. You may have several answers to the question yourself. I suspect for many of us one of the answers is about community. Everyone wants to be part of a community. We want to belong.

People do not usually join Unitarian Universalist congregations to be forgiven of their sins, or to be taught the right way to believe, or because their family expects it of them, or to get in to heaven when they die. We come – more often than not – for community, to be together with other people who share our values of respect and curiosity, compassion and justice, truth and love. Our work as a congregation is to establish ties, to build those connections, to create a congregation together.

There are many reasons why you who are here have chosen to keep showing up. You may be here for the amazing music or the uplifting message, you may be here for the stories or the rituals of candles and silence. It might be for the free coffee after the service, or something less tangible like the feeling of belonging or of being part of something larger than yourself. A very common reason is for community.

My colleague Cynthia Snavely once summed up our faith saying, ‘Connection is our holiest word.’

All around us are forces pulling us apart. We live in disconnected and alienating times. There are powers that want us isolated and lonely so as to be more easily manipulated and controlled. I don’t mean this at a conspiracy theory level – it’s just become a tactic for our consumeristic culture. And we are better consumers when we are isolated and lonely.

There is also the current politics on top of that driving us apart and keep us distracted and angry. As Unitarian Universalists we make a commitment to reconnect. Our distinctive religious work as a faith community, is the work of connection. Our work as a faith community is to create a space where people can know each other and be known.

So how do we do that? What does it look like when it is working? Here’s the rub: you have to risk something.

In our reading, Cole Arthur Riley says “To admit your desire to be known would mean acknowledging the shame asleep in you that says you aren’t worth knowing.” Our hunger to belong is a basic human trait – and as such there are countless ways that hunger is manipulated and used in the service of others. The risk is in trusting that a community like ours is not going to do that.

The way to learn if you can trust a community like this one is to test it, to risk a little or to do something with lower stakes that does not make you as vulnerable. The work of building trust and developing an authentic community of belonging is long, slow work. We’ve been at it for a long time. This congregation is far from perfect on this count, but we keep at it, we keep building and rebuilding trust together. Because we know it as our true work. 

To shift from the abstract to the specific, allow me to give examples of what I’m talking about. Low-stakes ways to risk trusting this congregation are all over the place. If you attend Sunday morning worship regularly, that is certainly a good thing. And it is not a significant risk. On the other hand, how well do we get to know each other during that hour? Certainly we are holding the silence together, we are listening to amazing music and uplifting messages together. The candles of Joys and Sorrows ritual will open some invitations to connections with the other people in the room. But most of this hour of worship is preparation time for the connections that we make outside of this hour in our congregation.

To really become known, to deepen your relationships in this congregation, it helps to do more than just show up on Sunday mornings, to take the risk of participating more. Join the choir, host a table at the Art and Gift Show or help in the kitchen, help serve food at one of the Beloved Community meals, serve as an usher or on the Caring Team. One reliable way to establish ties, and to really become a member of this community, is to serve in some fashion: to offer your gift, volunteer, be of use in some way.

The other reliable way is to receive. The announcement this morning about the Chalice Circle Sample session happening right after this service is an example of ‘receiving.’ Joining a Chalice Circle, attending a class or workshop, signing up for a book discussion: these are all ways to engage and learn something new; but often as important – they are opportunities to meet people and get to know them … and to get known.

Unitarian Universalism does not work well as a spectator religion. We are here to build community together, to participate in creating what we are as a congregation. You have a role in that process, some risk of putting yourself out there – in the giving and receiving that creates this community of connections in which we thrive.

A couple of generations back, a great Unitarian Theologian named James Luther Adams said that people come to churches for “ultimacy and intimacy.” (Robert L. Hill, The Complete Guide to Small Group Ministry: Saving the World Ten At A Time, p. 3.)

This yearning for ultimacy that Adams talks about is not done in isolation. These aren’t two separate endeavors. Seeking the ultimate is done while also seeking this sense of intimacy. We are social creatures and we need each other to be fully ourselves. Wrestling with life’s ultimate questions is best done in community. Our rich connections can lead us into the deeper meaning we long for in our living.

Our wellbeing thrives when we find spaces where we can know and be known, where we have connections with other people, where we can risk having ties that nourish us and lead us deeper into ourselves in the service of that which is greater than ourselves. And isn’t that why we come to church?

Come, let us build this congregation together, that we may all thrive.

In a world without end,

May it be so.

The People’s Peace

Rev. Douglas Taylor

May 18, 2025

Sermon Video:https://youtu.be/254crtZ9Bio

I know my title suggests I will be talking about peace – and I will be. And I know my sermon description suggests this will be a history sermon – and it will be.  But really, this morning is all about integrity and the freedom of conscience.

Rev. John Haynes Holmes is likely not a well-known figure from our religious history, but his impact has been significant. He was born almost 150 years ago and was an influential pacifist minister during the first and second World Wars. He served the Community Church of NYC for nearly four decades.

As I mentioned in my description of the service, Holmes was a staunch pacifist, and notably a co-founder of both the NAACP and the ACLU. Yet he was a controversial figure, his relationship with Unitarianism and with his colleagues was tumultuous. We effectively pushed him out of Unitarianism for being a non-conformist in his pacifism. Which is wild. I want to share with you the story of how our Unitarianism got caught up in the fervor of supporting the war and nearly lost our moral center as a tradition.

On both the Unitarian and Universalist sides of our heritage, we have prided ourselves on our commitment to freedom of belief and freedom of conscience. I have several times preached about the foundational value of honoring our theological diversity, of allowing for variety among our beliefs together, of insisting that we do not exclude based on such differences. Freedom of belief and freedom of conscience are central to our way of faith. Yet we have not always practice these freedoms well. My sermon today begins in one of our failures on this count.

I need to set the scene. This is 1917 – right at the time the United Staes had joined the war in Europe, the Great War, the War to End All Wars, or what we later came to call the First World War. The Unitarians met for their general conference meeting and the topic of supporting the war is put forth for discussion and resolution. The moderator of the conference 1917 is former president of the United States, William Howard Taft. Taft is the most recent of our four Unitarian US presidents, serving from 1909-1913. Taft strongly encouraged the Unitarian conference to support the war effort. Taft gave an opening address at the conferences, calling on the clergy to preach the righteousness of the war, to say it is necessary to preserve a peaceful world, and that we should all get behind President Wilson.

John Haynes Holmes is the young minister of what was then known as Church of the Messiah, NYC – a prominent Unitarian pulpit. Holmes was a strong advocate for justice and the modern social message of religion. He was in the position to bring a report about the perspectives and attitudes of Unitarians toward the war. As a staunch pacifist he called for the clergy to mourn the dead, cry out at the destruction, and seek the path of reconciliation.

Taft did not like Holmes’ report and setting the moderator gavel aside, took the floor to argue against Holmes’ pacifism and propose a motion saying “That it is the sense of this Unitarian Conference that this war must be carried to a successful issue, … that we … approve the measures of President Wilson and Congress to carry on this war.”

In the debate, Holmes rose and said, “I am a pacifist, I am non-resistant, I hate war, and I hate this war; so long as I live and breathe I will have nothing to do with this war or any war, so help me God.” Taft said “Our house is afire and we must put it out, and it is no time for considering whether the firemen are using the best kind of water.” The motion was adopted by a vote of 236 to 9. (Stream of Light, Conrad Wright, ed; p103)

There are times in history when we feel a fervent need to take some communal action, to stand against some evil. It is not a stretch to say many people, myself included, feel we are in just such a moment for our country today. Yet to refuse a space for conscientious dissent feels unimaginable. Everything in me would rebel if there were a resolution from the UUA proclaiming that all of us must agree with this or that policy or proposal or action.

In 1918, the year following the debate between Taft and Holmes, the leadership of the American Unitarian Association issued sanctions against any congregation employing a minister who was not “a willing, earnest, and outspoken supporter of the United States in the vigorous and resolute prosecution of the war.” They withheld all aid to such congregations. Holmes withdrew his fellowship with the Unitarians and the church likewise left the Association, changing its name to Community Church, NYC.  

A decade or so after that war, the Unitarians struck down those sanctions. And as he neared retirement, Holmes was courted by Unitarian leadership to reinstate his fellowship among the Unitarians, which he did. The broader story includes this reconciliation.

In recent years, pro-war UUs are far from the majority. The counter-cultural movements of the ‘60’s became our bread and butter in the following decades – peace, civil rights, equality, diversity – these values and their accompanying justice issues became bedrock cultural aspects of our Unitarian Universalist identity. Holmes’ ministry predated all of that by a few decades.

Over the years I have bumped into people who assumed Unitarian Universalists were always anti-war. One person was aghast to hear a colleague suggest we are not considered one of the Peace Churches.

The Peace Churches are denominations such as the Brethren, the Quackers, the Amish and the Mennonites who have historically held a biblical commitment to non-resistance and pacifism as a core tenet of their faith. I am reminded of James Baldwin’s quip, “If one believes in the Prince of Peace one must stop committing crimes in the name of the Prince of Peace.”

Unitarians have, in more recent times, shifted to a more anti-war stance, a more reconciling perspective. In recent conflicts, for example, the UUA has been very supportive of Ukraine’s resistance to Russian aggression but was noncommittal for several month when talking about the war in Gaza. The UUA has been nuanced and cautious about asserting a stance – perhaps as a reflection of the experience of Holmes, but I doubt it. I don’t think the story of John Haynes Holmes’ pacifism and refusal to toe the line with conformity take up much space in how we remember our history. It is not a story we tell very loudly among ourselves.

I will note that throughout our early history, Unitarians in particular have been in the thick of the establishment of our government. Many of the ‘founding fathers’ of the United States have some Unitarian connections. We were owners of business and leading academics in the early formation of our nation. We were influencers. We were the establishment.

The past hundred years, however, has seen a pivot away from Unitarians holding significant political influence. We have – most notably during the 60’s and onward – shifted toward being a voice of resistance. And circling back to Holmes I would credit his ministry as having an indirect impact on our progress as a religious tradition.

I would not say we have become anti-establishment, however. I think we’ve grown into a faith community that is not simply against something, we are working to establish a kind of community that serves the needs of all people through our values. I would not say Holmes’ greatest attribute was his pacifism. Yes, his stance against the war precipitated his withdrawal from the Unitarian Association. But that particular stance was grounded in a broader vision for what could be when we set militarism aside.

In one of his 1917 sermons he said “War and democracy are incompatible.” He spoke about how the mindset of war tramples the values we are wanting to protect by going the war. While we may not be actively at war in the way we were in 1917, it is not hard to see how great an impact militarism has had on the erosion of our democracy. Can you see how the state’s use of force has eroded our freedom? It is this broader vision of what could be that lead me to want to learn more about Holmes.

It was not just his radical pacifism; his vision of ministry and of the nature of religion was also radical for the time. He was far from the only Unitarian minister calling for a modernization of our theology – indeed the Humanist movement of the 1930’s may have been influenced by Holmes’ writings. The part I found more prescient for our current situation is his call for “a religion that moved from concentration on the individual and focused instead on the social nature of every individual.” (Unitarian Universalism, a narrative history, by David Bumbaugh; p137)

Our current Unitarian Universalist conversations about collective liberation and Beloved Community are fed by indigenous perspectives as well as from people like Holmes who swim counterwise from within the dominant stream of our history. His non-conformity was not a simple one-sided complaint against one specific aspect of evil. Holmes offered a wholistic vision of a better world.

Witness his fuller story. He was approached by W.E.B. Debois to join in the creation of the NAACP – one of about 60 people who are never listed among the founders. Holmes was committed to integration and the rights of people of color. Later he was part of forming the American Civil Liberties Union. In both cases, his name is not at the center. If you look up the history of the founding of the NAACP, you will not find his name among the founders – because he was not front and center, he was in a supportive role as a partner and ally.

I highlight his non-conformity, his refusal to set aside his conscience. But his ministry cannot be reduced to one issue or one fight against the establishment. He was a builder of new possibilities. In this way, he is a role model to me. He heeded the promptings of the spirit, lived within his integrity, insisting not that everyone agree with him but that everyone be free to agree with their own conscience.

I’ve never been what you might call an activist preacher. I can preach a good justice sermon, but my calling has always been to build that certain sort of community where all souls shall grown strong and together we move toward a more Beloved world. Holmes did that too.

And I see it in many of you. And together we can bring more peace, more grace, move love each day. And God help us – together we can make this place beautiful.

In a world without end,

may it be so

Poems of Joy and Laughter

Rev. Douglas Taylor

4-27-25

Sermon Video: https://youtu.be/IOskXW4Zg9E

Part I

Poetry helps us understand the meanings of things. Poetry, through metaphor and the turn of phrase, opens us to grasping reality in a way that regular talking does not. All art, really, allows for this, but poetry is particularly fun.

When considering the topic of joy, it is valuable to ask the dictionary to take a seat and tell the philosophers to wait outside. Set the spotlight on the poets instead and learn wisdom from a sideways glance.

John Keats wrote, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Mother Theresa explained “Joy is a net of love by which you catch souls.” While Rumi reminds us “An eye is meant to see things. The soul is here for its own joy.”

What does any of that mean? I will smile slyly and ask, what do you all think it means? Billy Collins, in his poem “Introduction to Poetry” explains it like this.

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

—

So, instead of interrogating, let’s explore, let’s have some fun. Perhaps we’ll learn something along the way; perhaps not what we intended to learn. Yet the journey will be worth it all the same.

Poems of Joy and Laughter. We begin with advice from Mary Oliver who warns us with her title – Don’t Hesitate.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

—

Joy was not made to be a crumb, she says. Yes, there is pain and cruelty, and, Mary Oliver admits, we are “not very often kind.” And yet, life continues. “Perhaps,” she continues, “this is its way of fighting back.” Joy remains plentiful. Certainly our laughter is often borne of a moment of frivolity and lightness. And other times it bursts out of a depth despite its surroundings. Joy is not merely a happy prank or playful joke. Joy is a reclaiming of life in the face of death. Some note that happiness is transient, reflective of circumstance. While joy is a container for both happiness and sorrow. In this way, joy is a response to life. Listen to the wisdom of African American poet, Lucille Clifton’s in her piece entitled “Homage to My Hips”

these hips are big hips

they need space to

move around in.

they don’t fit into little

petty places. these hips

are free hips.

they don’t like to be held back.

these hips have never been enslaved,  

they go where they want to go

they do what they want to do.

these hips are mighty hips.

these hips are magic hips.

i have known them

to put a spell on a man and

spin him like a top!

—

Joy is something we sometimes must claim for ourselves when the world would rather have us feeling shamed and small. Remembering Keats, we revel in beauty because “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” So forget the world’s judgment, embrace your beauty, and live in your joy.

In scripture, joy is listed as one of the fruits of the spirit (Galatians 5:22) and in proverbs (17:22) we read “A joyful heart is good medicine.”

Joy arrives in the juxtaposition, the unexpected, the pairing of light and dark, the surprises large and small. And … joy most appears most often in the simple rounds of daily living. Consider the gift of socks. You may know I am partial to socks myself – odd socks, silly socks, colorful and fun socks – I delight in playful socks. Consider Pablo Neruda’s poem, “Ode to My Socks.”

Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft
as rabbits.
I slipped my feet
into them
as though into
two
cases
knitted
with threads of
twilight
and goatskin.
Violent socks,
my feet were
two fish made
of wool,
two long sharks
sea-blue, shot
through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons:
my feet
were honored
in this way
by
these
heavenly
socks.
They were
so handsome
for the first time
my feet seemed to me
unacceptable
like two decrepit
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that woven
fire,
of those glowing
socks.

Nevertheless
I resisted
the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere
as schoolboys
keep
fireflies,
as learned men
collect
sacred texts,
I resisted
the mad impulse
to put them
into a golden
cage
and each day give them
birdseed
and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers
in the jungle who hand
over the very rare
green deer
to the spit
and eat it
with remorse,
I stretched out
my feet
and pulled on
the magnificent
socks
and then my shoes.

The moral
of my ode is this:
beauty is twice
beauty
and what is good is doubly
good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool
in winter.

—

Have you ever found joy in an ordinary moment? Ponder this question. Have you ever found joy in an ordinary moment. Consider this next poem, a captured glimpse of joy among horses and young children, written by our own Christine O’Donnell entitled “Old Logging Road.”

The old logging road

meandered through the forest,

like a slow, moving reptile,

plodding along, one mighty

step at a time.

General, the palomino, stepped,

lightly along the overgrown trail,

or leap over fallen tree trunks,

keeping his balance.

Topper, the sweet, gentle Morgan,

tiptoed, light as a feather,

gracefully maneuvering the trail,

He refused to be startled by the racoon,

that ran across the ancient road.

The children, Chrissie and Mavis,

laughed and giggled,

unaware of the power

of the old logging road.

—

I have so many poems to share this morning. And here is one more before we wrap up Part One of this poetry reading in the guise of a sermon, with a poem that feels to me like a beloved classic, although I don’t recall ever sharing it in worship before. It continues the theme of where we find joy. “Welcome Morning” by Anne Sexton.

There is joy

in all:

in the hair I brush each morning,

in the Cannon towel, newly washed,

that I rub my body with each morning,

in the chapel of eggs I cook

each morning,

in the outcry from the kettle

that heats my coffee

each morning,

in the spoon and the chair

that cry “hello there, Anne”

each morning,

in the godhead of the table

that I set my silver, plate, cup upon

each morning.

All this is God,

right here in my pea-green house

each morning

and I mean,

though often forget,

to give thanks,

to faint down by the kitchen table

in a prayer of rejoicing

as the holy birds at the kitchen window

peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,

let me paint a thank-you on my palm

for this God, this laughter of the morning,

lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,

dies young.

—

Part II

When I was researching – looking for poetry and more, looking for how poetry leads us into understanding – I found an article in a magazine called “Rethinking Schools” focused on promoting equity and racial justice in the classroom.

Celebrating Joy and Laughter

The article was about how a teacher was using poetry to empower the learners and bring more joy into the learning process. The teacher uses the work of poets such as Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou, encouraging the kids to write their own poetry in response to and in conversation with their great works. Lucille Clifton’s poem about her hips is included in the curriculum. They read Pablo Neruda’s Ode about the socks in English as well as in the original Spanish. They discussed his descriptive imagery and how he offers praise for an ordinary object.

I want to share one of the student’s poems this morning. Sarah Scofield, found particular joy in reading Neruda’s poetry in Spanish and sparked her write about the linguistic pleasure she had found. “Ode to Spanish” by Sarah Scofield

A language

As beautiful as music:

Melodious verbs

Harmonious adjectives

Rhythmic nouns

Intertwine as I speak.

An orchestra of words

Conducted by my tongue.

I compose

A new song

As those around me listen.

Musical sentences

Rich with the notes

Of culture.

A romance language stirring the hearts

of its listeners.

The music plays on

As I watch with wonder how

My untrained yet experienced tongue

conducts the orchestra,

and the music pleases me.

—

For some, the joy of poetry is in the rhythms and cadence, the rhymes and phrasing. For others, it is the subtle twist revealing a message. If we were talking about music, I would be talking about how some like the beat while others like the lyrics. Carol Finch sent me a poem someone had given to her many years back that has continued to feel bright and enlightening to her after all this time. It is called “Bugs in a Bowl” by Han-shan

We’re just like bugs in a bowl.

All day going around

never leaving their bowl.

I say: That’s right! Every day

climbing up the steep sides,

sliding back. Over and over again.

Around and around.

Up and back down.

Sit in the bottom of the bowl,

head in your hands, cry, moan,

feel sorry for yourself.

Or.

Look around.

See your fellow bugs.

Walk around. Say,

Hey, how you doing?

Say, Nice Bowl!

—

A wisdom poem, inviting us to enjoy the delivery of the message and to uncover the content of the message as well – there are riches all around us awaiting our discovery. “Hey, nice bowl!”

Here is a silly one from children’s author and poet Judith Viorst. Karen Manzer submitted this for us this morning. “Mother Doesn’t Want a Dog” by Judith Viorst

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they smell,
And never sit when you say sit,
Or even when you yell.
And when you come home late at night
And there is ice and snow,
You have to go back out because
The dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they shed,
And always let the strangers in
And bark at friends instead,
And do disgraceful things on rugs,
And track mud on the floor,
And flop upon your bed at night
And snore their doggy snore.

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
She’s making a mistake.
Because, more than a dog, I think
She will not want this snake.

—

A lot of joy is found in relationship. The love of a good animal companion is a source of joy indeed. I know I already brought you a Mary Oliver poem and I’m straining our Mary Oliver Quota to bring you a second one, yet that is exactly what I about going to do. Mary Oliver does not limit her poetry to moss and bugs and birds – she was a small set of poems about her little white dog Percy. The third one in the set is “Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night (Percy Three)”

He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small, expressive sounds.
And when I am awake, or awake enough

He turns upside down, his four paws
     in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.

Tell me you love me, he says.

Tel me again.

Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Over and over
he gets to ask it.
I get to tell.

—

I had the great pleasure to hear Mary Oliver recite poetry back in 2006. Almost 20 years later, when thinking about this service, I remembered hearing her recite the Percy poems – they still make me smile. I’m not a dog person, I confess. But I do understand the draw and appreciate the love and joy. The second Percy poem was written back in the early 2000’s – an important point of context for the poem, although many of the references remain recognizable and relevant today.

Percy (two)

I have a little dog who likes to nap with me.
He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck.
He is sweeter than soap.
He is more wonderful than a diamond necklace,
     which can’t even back.
I would like to take him to Kashmir and the Ukraine,
     and Jerusalem and Palestine and Iraq and Darfur,
that the sorrowing thousands might see his laughing mouth.
I would like to take him to Washington, right into
     the oval office
where Donald Rumsfeld would crawl out  of the president’s
     armpit
and kneel down on the carpet, and romp like boy.

For once, for a moment, a rational man.

—

Might we all need reminders from time to time that joy is not just a break, an escape, a small bit of fun when everything else is so serious. Might we all need reminders now and then that joy is one way we stay human. Experiencing joy is a way we keep our spirits alive when we live in soul-deadening times. When we say joy is a form of resistance, we mean that joy helps us stay connected to ourselves and others.

And poetry is a form of communication that is revelatory; poetry lifts us beyond the ordinary and reveals to us insights we might otherwise miss. Our final poem is by my elder colleague Mark Morrison-Reed, entitled “Let Me Die Laughing.”

We are all dying,
our lives always moving toward completion.

We need to learn to live with death,
and to understand that death is not the worst of all events.

We need to fear not death, but life—empty lives, loveless lives

lives that do not build
upon the gifts that each of us has been given, lives that are like living deaths,
lives which we never take the time
to savor and appreciate,
lives in which we never pause to breathe deeply.

What we need to fear is not death,
but squandering the lives we have been miraculously given.

So let me die laughing, savoring one of life’s crazy moments. Let me die holding the hand of one I love, and recalling that I tried to love and was loved in return. Let me die remembering that life has been good, and that I did what I could.

But today, just remind me that I am dying so that I can live, savor, and love with all my heart.

—

Let me die laughing, that I may better love with all my heart.

In a world without end,

May it be so.

Spending Your Privilege
Rev. Douglas Taylor
March 23, 2025

Sermon Video: https://youtu.be/2tZED6qed5A

There was a reddit post that’s been around for a few years about how dads are native to Home Depot while lesbians are native to Lowe’s. The premise being that these two common types of home improvement shoppers can’t mix. But then a follow up post claimed it was perhaps true at one point but they’ve mixed around so much that trying to separate them back out into their respective original ranges would do more harm than good to the delicate ecosystem of chain hardware stores. https://www.reddit.com/r/tumblr/comments/a0yj5o/dads_are_an_invasive_species/?rdt=59894 Personally, I’m glad for the mix because I am a dad but like hanging out with the lesbians.

I was recently at one of these big chain hardware stores buying a few things. The cashier was a big man who smiled as he was ringing me up, complimented my t-shirt, and commended my brave choice to wear it in the store. I looked down because I had forgotten what t-shirt I was wearing. “Have a Gay Day” it says in big letters on a rainbow background. The cashier went on to say he didn’t have a problem with my shirt, liked it in fact. But he knew other guys in the store would take issue with my attire.

Honestly I had not spent much time that morning thinking about the message on my shirt before he brought it up. It did not feel like a risk to me. That’s part of my privilege. I felt safe wearing a shirt that could conceivably trigger a unpleasant response – possibly a verbally threatening response, or more. But I didn’t even think twice about it when I walked out the door on my way to the hardware store.

Now, that’s not entirely true. I did think about it way back when I bought the shirt at Hot Topic. I thought about it when I was walking around in a park and a pair of younger people said ‘cool shirt’ as they walked past me. I thought about it when my gay niece said “Uncle Douglas has more gay shirts than I do.” I thought about it when a Methodist colleague nodded in appreciation a month or so before their General Conference voted to lift the ban on LGBTQ clergy and same-sex marriages.

I was aware of the impact my t-shirt might have when I bought it, and was reminded a few times along the way of the impact my t-shirt did have. But up until the comments of the cashier saying I was brave to wear my ‘Have a Gay Day’ t-shirt at the hardware store, all my thoughts had been about the positive impact my shirt could have. 

Sometimes being an ally means showing up in ways that can make me uncomfortable, or to take a risk that a more vulnerable person, a less privileged person, might not be safe taking. In the reading this morning [“What’s the Difference Between an Ally and Accomplice?” by Annalee Schafranek

https://www.ywcaworks.org/blogs/ywca/tue-12212021-1103/whats-difference-between-ally-and-accomplice], one of the definitions of an ally was this: “Being an ally is about recognizing your privilege, then using it in solidarity with marginalized groups to challenge the status quo.”

That word ‘privilege’ is important in this conversation. I have noticed that sometimes conversations about privilege can be misinterpreted as conversations about guilt or about making people ashamed. If your conversations about oppression – about land acknowledgments or bathrooms or reparations – if your conversations as a person of privilege get stuck in guilt and shame, something is off about those conversations.

It doesn’t serve you or any vulnerable communities for you as an ally or potential ally to get stuck in feelings of guilt or shame. It serves the status quo. It serves the oppressor. It serves the dominant culture that does not want change when good liberals to get stuck and stop trying to change. James Baldwin once said “People can cry much easier than they can change.”

Remember, the point is about changing the situation so the people who are getting hurt stop getting hurt. The point is not to flip who gets hurt. The point is not to start oppressing the oppressors. White people feeling bad about slavery is not the point. Straight people feeling unsafe in the bathrooms is not the point. The point is not to flip who gets hurt. The point is for the people who are getting hurt to stop getting hurt.

In a 1966 speech, delivered at Illinois Wesleyan University, Dr. King said,

It may be true that the law cannot change the heart but it can restrain the heartless. It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, religion and education will have to do that, but it can restrain him from lynching me. And I think that’s pretty important also.

-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

What Dr. King is highlighting is how changing attitudes is important, but changing behaviors is often enough. Usually when we think about Inclusion and Diversity, we are talking about perspectives and attitudes, frameworks, ways of looking at the world. I would like to shift that conversation into behaviors, practices that promote these attitudes and perspectives.

I’ve been thinking about this for a bit and here are a few practices I’ve found. To be an ally and eventually perhaps an accomplice, an important practice of inclusion we can do regularly is about listening.

I need to listen, but I am listening with a specific goal: to learn more, to educate myself about what’s going on and about the experiences of people different from me – experiences of people with marginalized identities in our society. This is a great tip for life in general. Listen to children, listen to your neighbor, listen to the cashier, listen to elders, listen to anyone out there … with the goal of learning more about the experiences of people who are different.

And then, here is a justice twist: give a little extra credence to people who are marginalized and vulnerable in our society. Any listening is good and worthy. And, listen with a little preference for people who historically marginalized and vulnerable. I’m not saying people who share my identity are always wrong and people different from me are always right. There are liars and con artists among all types of people. But when people say things like: ‘amplify the voices of people of color’ and ‘believe women’ and ‘walk a mile in another person’s moccasins;’ the suggestion is to counter the near-universal bias people have to dismiss the experiences of those who are suffering.

One regular practice of inclusion is to listen in this way. A companion practice is to get into relationships with people who have identities that are different from your own. It will help with the listening. You can’t get everything second hand – meet people and learn from them.

Another practice is to spend your privilege. Once you have a good understanding of your privilege, the thing to do is use your privilege for something good. I remember a scene from a movie I’d watched years back but can’t remember the title or much else about it. Two friends had grown up in the same neighborhood and are teenagers now – one black, one white. They are getting into trouble together and police show up. The cops have caught the black teen and his white friend jumps on the cop. The black friend gets free and runs off while the white friend is arrested. In an unjust incarceration system, the white friend will have an easier time in prison than the black friend.

That’s certainly accomplice-level behavior. I’m still working on the ally-level work walking around in my gay t-shirt. But my point is we can all find ways to leverage our privilege for the good of vulnerable people and communities. “Being an ally is about recognizing your privilege, then using it in solidarity with marginalized groups to challenge the status quo.” (Annalee Schafranek)

When we talk about Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, we are refuting the values of Uniformity, Inequity, and Exclusion. The goal is to build something that is more fair, allows more people at the table, that expands the circle.

And do you know what else a person needs to do to be a good ally? Do you want more practices you can do? Heal, rest, the world does not need your exhaustion. The better world we are building includes being better for you. Give love, receive love. It’s not all shouting in the streets. It’s mutual aid and highlighting resources. It’s laughter and holding space for others to just breathe.

Aboriginal elder, activist, and educator Dr. Lilla Watson has a fabulous quote that sums it up well: “If you have come here to help me, you’re wasting your time. If you have come because your liberation is bound up in mine, then let us work together.”

Step up and engage with the injustice you see. Because it is an injustice that includes you. Spend your privilege to make things better. Through practices of inclusion, through actions of equity, through behaviors that build the beloved community.

As a congregation, we’ve been trying to serve the needs of the broader community without reinventing the wheel. Instead of creating our own community dinner, we are partnering with another organization that already knows what they are doing. Instead of becoming the folks who visit the encampments of unhoused and homeless people, we are hosting the folks who are already doing that work. Instead of trying to be the center for Trans people to gather, we are becoming one of the places Trans leaders know they can call on for space. We are using our building to support good work. We are spending our privilege.

When I eventually level up to being an accomplice as described in the reading from this morning, I’ll probably offer another sermon about how to be an accomplice. I know several of you are already functioning as accomplices. But the goal here is not for me or any of us to climb the liberal achievement ladder. Our goal is to build the Beloved Community. For that we need to each keep doing the piece we have for us to do. For that we need each other as we are, listening, learning, healing, acting for justice.

Ina world without end,

May it be so