Sermons

Sound of Spirit
Douglas and Brin Taylor
October 22, 2017

Part I

“I’ve found that music is one of our greatest wisdoms and one of our greatest tools for going through life’s challenges. It’s like laughter, it’s like orgasm, it’s like tears. Our consciousness shakes, it vibrates into the new world and new concepts. Music has been used throughout history to facilitate that. Every religion and spiritual practice understands that music has the capacity to bring us to our best … The simple truth is that we are vibratory beings, and when the vibration stops, so do we. In the words of T.S. Eliot, ‘You are the music while the music lasts.’”   – – Michael Rossato-Bennett

Douglas:        

I, Douglas Taylor, being of sound mind and body, do strive to be also sound of spirit. I long to be made whole and well in my spirit. It is interesting, yes? One of our English words for wholeness and wellness is “sound.” It is fitting. Let me offer a sound argument. Music is one of those human activities that promotes soundness of spirit. When we sing together, when we listen to music, when we play an instrument – our brains not only do that amazing thing of taking in all the different sensory signals and organizing them in a comprehensible fashion, our brains also are impacted by that music. Music integrates us. It helps us create meaning in our lives. Music helps us become sound of spirit.

Brin:

I recall, quite vividly, a time when I was sitting by a large outdoor fountain, waiting for a friend. I listened to the water splashing down the many rocks and basins as it made its way to the lowest part of the fountain. As I sat and listened, I because acutely aware of all the simultaneously occurring sounds. I heard the splash of water on rock. I heard splash of water on water, and its varying pitches. And I heard variety in larger splashes versus smaller droplets. As I listened, I began to hear a symphony in the fountain. Rhythm, melody, and phrases sprung out of the water pipes and danced in my mind. I lost myself in the sounds.

When my friend found me, I explained what I had heard, and pointed out all the different sounds. He was fascinated, and began creating a drum beat on the side of the fountain while we listened to the water cascade down the rocks. I began humming and dancing along to his beat. Soon, a few strangers joined in the dancing. Music brings people together. It is a universal language. This experience moved me immensely, and I still remember it, years later.

I studied Music Therapy at SUNY Fredonia. I became interested in this field during community college when looking over the various music degrees and paths they offered. I had been taking harp and piano lessons most of my life, and I knew I wanted a career in music. I asked the department head about the Music Therapy program. He said it infused psychology and music together. It was a way of using music as a therapeutic tool. I was sold completely on the idea. I figured, “well, I like helping people, and I like music. I should do both.”

I did the program at the community college, and then transferred to SUNY Fredonia to finish my undergraduate degree. I loved the program at Fredonia. I was placed in clinical Music Therapy setting immediately, and I began to see what music therapy was all about.

Music Therapy (as described on the website for the American Music Therapy Association – http://www.musictherapy.org) is the “clinical and evidence-based use of music interventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a credentialed professional.”

It goes on from there, but basically, it explains that music is used as a tool to accomplish non-musical goals including physical, verbal, emotional, behavioral, cognitive, and social goals of the individuals. Music Therapists work alongside other professionals to achieve similar goals to physical therapists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, etc.

Music Therapy is different from similar practices such as sound healing and bedside musicians. Music Therapists provides services, and are licensed professionals; they are held up to higher standards along with other therapists (such as dance therapy, speech therapy, physical therapy, art therapy, occupational therapy). Similar practices (such as sound healing and bedside musicians) can be therapeutic, but should not be confused with or mislabeled as Music Therapy.

Douglas:

My interest in music is less professional than Brin’s. I appreciate the value of a professional hand when we are talking about music as a healing modality, one that can have an impact on the body, on physical healing, recovery, and recuperation.

My interest, though, is in the way music can offer healing for our spirits not just our bodies, for our connection to the holy. Music can be a bridge between people, and between a person and the holy. It is a form of communication that transcends regular speaking. Many religions include music to aid in the communication of the religious message. Special hymns, sung responses, introits, and cantatas: music gets through to us in a way the spoken word cannot. If you speak something, and then sing the exact same thing – our brains receive that information in two different ways. Music serves as a bridge of connection between people, and between a person and the holy.

The late, great rock musician Tom Petty once said, “Music is probably the only real magic I have encountered in my life. There’s not some trick involved with it. It’s pure and it’s real. It moves, it heals, it communicates and does all these incredible things.”

Brin:   

During my internship at the Center for Discovery, I worked with an individual with severe autism. He was a tall, lanky boy, and was completely non-verbal. He would sit across from me, I sat at the keyboard, and we would sing with each other. I improvised simple melodies and chords on the keyboard, and did my best to match his vocalizations. Once he recognized that I was matching him with pitch, he began to match my pitches and rhythms as well. I would sing vowel sounds in his “key” and he would sing them back to me. I felt so connected to him during our sessions. I felt like we could communicate. Music has this strong power to connect people. As Douglas stated, music serves as a bridge of connection between people. I definitely felt that connection with this boy. By listening to his vocalizations, and observing his affect, I could tell whether he was feeling frustrated or happy, calm or excited. I reflected that in the music we created together. We even had back-and-forth “conversations” where we matched each other’s tone and inflection, or vastly contrast it. It was quite an empowering exercise, and it had a huge impact on me as well.

Douglas:

What are highlighting here is how music is a special form of communication. It travels along different pathways to reach deeper levels in us. As young parents, my wife and I decided to sing to our children as part of their regular bedtime routine. We wanted them to experience our presence, our love for them, not just with the words we say, but in deeper ways as well. We choose to use music. Every night. Sweet Baby James, The Water is Wide, Amazing Grace, Summertime, and more than a dozen other songs. Brin and I offer you one of those songs now.

Interlude:        Everything Possible   by Fred Small

Part II

Brin:

Music has the power to trigger strong emotional responses in people. Like that song we just sang for you, it pulls at strong memories I have from my childhood, and having my parents sing me to sleep each night. We have also found that music has a physiological effect on our bodies in addition to emotional responses. When hooked up to bio-feedback machines, individuals listening to music show changes in: heart rate, blood pressure, breathing rates, skin responses, and muscular/motor responses. Each of these changes are unique to the individual, and different kinds of music will elicit different responses. Music affects our bodies, as well as our emotions.

“In the Ruins”                        By Lynn Ungar

A man sits on the rubble—
not just in the rubble, but on the pile
of what remains. No people
in the bombed-out houses.
No dogs. No birds. Just ragged hunks
of concrete and loss. And on his perch
he is playing an instrument constructed
of what is left—an olive oil can, a broom handle,
a bowed stick and strings. It sounds
exactly as it is supposed to sound.
The instrument cries, but the man sings.
Because sometimes loss is deeper than tears.
Because sometimes grief is resistance.
Because, somewhere down the very long road,
music is stronger than bombs.

Douglas:

We talk about music’s power to heal. In this passage read by Dorothy, the musician has not healed the bombed-out building, has not repaired the city, or transformed the destruction wrought by the bomb. But as Brin said just now, “Music affects our bodies, as well as our emotions.” The musician in the ruins touches the hearts of all who hear the music, all who hear the story of the music – and in that way, there can be a change, possibly a change leading to the repair of the broken places around us. The music changes us and we then go forth and change the world; but first, the music connects us back to life.

Brin:

Music Therapists have used music to help establish more regulated breathing patterns in many kinds of people: babies in the NICU, individuals in hospice, and individuals with anxiety or issues with hyperventilation. I watched several videos of Music Therapists with babies in the NICU. They play music at the rate of breathing they see in the infant, then they slowly increase or decrease the speed the music is at (according to the needs). The infant’s breathing will often entrain to the music, meaning their breathing will change match what the therapist is playing. Over time, the infant will be able to breath at a faster/slower/steadier rate without the help of the therapist. They use similar entrainment techniques to steady the breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure of all kinds of people. I’ve used this technique on myself before, and on friends and loved ones. It creates a calming and powerful connection with a person.

Douglas:

I wish I had paid more attention to the power of music when I was doing my chaplaincy during seminary. I have had many experiences more recently of visiting people in hospitals and nursing homes, but there is still very little music playing in these settings. Where is there music in your life? Have you found that certain music evokes certain emotions or moods? Do you seek out particular music at the beginning or the end of the day, when you are driving or cooking or relaxing? How do you use music to pace your heartrate or regulate your breathing?

I spoke with someone last week about her experiences recovering from severe burns. This person had been in a coma following the incident, the recovery was slow and painful. She shared with me about a few techniques she used for coping. We talked about her spiritual practices, the support of her friends and her wife, the powerful connection to the divine she uncovered, and about music. We spent extra time talking about the music. The music helped her through the pain. She listened to music when they were changing her dressings on the burn unit. One of her favorite types of music is ‘cover songs’. This is music, like what we played for the offertory, that is familiar from the radio, but different because it is a cover – it is played by another group in a different way. I think cover songs were an interesting choice for this woman working through her pain because the words and the melody are the same; the tempo and style are changed. Thus, the songs are familiar enough to be comforting but different enough to be interesting.

Brin:

Pitch. Rhythm and meter. Melodies and phrases. Timbre. Words and lyrics. These are all elements that make up music. Each one individually affects our emotions and our bodies in different ways. You can listen to all the pieces together and not even be aware of the different parts; but at one point or another, you may become aware of a particular element of the music because it stands out to you in a particular way. Each of these elements can have an emotional effect on a person, and, through this emotional connection, you can find meaning.

In Diane Austin’s book The Theory and Practice of Vocal Psychotherapy: Songs of the Self, she talks about the voice and what makes it so powerful.

Austin says, “Why is the singing such a powerful therapeutic experience? When we sing, our voice and our bodies are the instruments. We are intimately connected to the source of the sound and the vibration. We make the music, we are immersed in the music and we are the music. We breathe deeply to sustain the tones we create, and our heart rate slows down and our nervous system is calmed. Our voices resonate inward to help us connect to our bodies and express our emotions and they resonate outward to help us connect to others.”

Douglas:

My personal draw to music is from the perspective of a lay-person in the field. I love to sing. I love to sing in church, on stage, in the coffee shop, at the dance party, in the car, or in the shower. Here is something I’ve discovered: Usually when I sing, I am singing the melody; I am performing or leading the hymn. But when I join a choir and sing with other people, something different happens to me. When I sing like I normally do, alone or as the song leader: I feel emotionally lifted, energized. When I sing in a choir: I am listening to the other voices, I am blending my line around the melody. I feel more whole. I don’t know if this is how it feels for anyone else, I’m just telling you what I have found. Music does something to me. It shapes my experiences.

Brin

I love playing large stringed instruments. You just saw me play ukulele – which is quite small compared to what I also play! In addition to ukulele, I play harp, guitar, and piano. One of the reasons I like playing large stringed instruments is that I can feel the vibrations as I am playing; I feel it from my head to my toes, and it feels like I am a part of the instrument, and it is a part of me. When you are exposed to sound vibrations, it can resonate through your whole body.

I remember a time I participated in a gong therapy workshop. We sat with our eyes shut, surrounded by gongs of varying pitches and sizes. I remember the feeling of the sound washing over me; it felt like I was on a beach in the summertime. I could feel the vibrations become one with me.

The instrument you will feel the most vibrational connection to, however, is your own voice. Your vocal cords vibrate every time you talk, and more so when you sing. I am always fascinated that I can feel where the pitch is in my throat. Higher pitches are physically higher up in your vocal cords (and lower pitches are physically lower), and you can feel that as you move pitches up and down your vocal cords.

My voice is my most powerful instrument. It has given me confidence and creativity. The voice is so personal. Often, when I sing, it helps me relax, express myself, or just release emotion. I feel a connection with myself when I sing, and I feel a connection to the world around me and the people in it. Music has the power to connect people, build bridges, heal. I don’t know what I would do without music.

Douglas:

Who among us does not need a healing balm in our lives from time to time, for some – all the time. Music is among the amazing elements in the universe, flowing over us and through us. Music is a tool of blessing and connection. It is a form of communication and communion. It is a doorway to the holy. We can be healed by the music and we can become the music.

Listen. You who have ears to hear, listen. Sing, you who have voices to share, join with me in the chorus, keep the rhythm, keep the time and all join in to let life shine.

In a world without end,
May it be so.

Say It Like You Mean It
Rev Douglas Taylor
September 24, 2017

“Now is the time for turning” Jack Riemer says in our responsive reading from the hymnal (#634, Jack Riemer.) He offers images from nature to begin the point. “For leaves, birds, and animals turning comes instinctively.” The reading is a Yom Kippur invitation into forgiveness, but it begins by showing how the natural world turns simply because that is part of what it means to be the natural world. The reading goes on, “But for us turning does not come easily. It takes an act of will for us to make a turn… It means saying: I am sorry. It means recognizing that we have the ability to change. These things are hard to do. But unless we do turn, we will be trapped forever in yesterday’s ways.”

A predominant theme in the Yom Kippur season is that of turning. Turning from insensitivity and indifference, turning from pettiness and aggression. Turning and returning to that which is holy, that which is good. Turning back to our best selves. “Now is the time for turning.”

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is the holiest day of the Jewish year. It comes as the tenth day of the Days of Awe, the first day of which is Rosh Hashanah, the new year. The ten days of the new year are called the Days of Awe because people feel fear as well as reverence during this special time of judgment and forgiveness. Yom Kippur is a day of fasting, of self-reflection, and of seeking and offering forgiveness. It will take place this year on Friday the 29^th, so you have a few more days yet to set yourself right.

Seeking forgiveness is not easy. It is remarkable to have an annual opportunity to engage with the experience. Over the years I have taken the opportunity to preach about forgiveness and to do my own work on that theme as well. In recent years, I have approached this season from the perspective of restoring relationships, of letting go of a grudge, of offer forgiveness. Today, I focus on the other side of the equation, on seeking forgiveness.

In our reading this morning (http://www.cuppacocoa.com/a-better-way-to-say-sorry/ ) the author makes the point that children are often taught a very simplified and unhelpful formula for how to apologize and seek forgiveness. “Say you are sorry. Say it like you mean it.” Part of the author’s point is that this old model is not seeking a true apology, it is merely going through the motions. Saying “I am sorry” and saying it like I mean it even if I don’t mean it.

In my family we tell about the time our youngest was around 3 and came up with his own form of resistance. He didn’t roll his eyes or say ‘sorry’ with dripping insincerity, as the author in our reading talked about. Instead he quietly added the word “hauk” after saying “Sorry.” It took us a while to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t just “sorry,” either. Any of the words associated with good manners would have this extra word tagged on. “Please, hauk” he would say at the dinner table. “Thank you, hauk” he would mumble when someone passed him what he asked for. “Sorry, hauk” he was say sullenly when we demanded his apology. We eventually figured out that this was his unique and creative form of ‘I don’t really mean it.’ It was his way of negating whatever he had just said.

At that time in his life, our youngest was a professional-level contrarian. He and I got into a lot of fights back then. He and I have both grown a lot since then; and he has given me permission to tell this story. But back then – “Sorry, hauk” was his way of saying “you can make me say it, but you can’t make me mean it.” Eventually we banned the word “hauk.” We banned a made-up word. His response: he would say “sorry” and then go out of the room and mutter ‘hauk’ under his breath.

Say you are sorry. Say it like you mean it. In our reading this morning, the author stumbled upon an elegant rendering of ‘the proper way’ to give apology. She took it to her 4^th grade class and put this method to work. She made a poster, “How to Say Sorry” and then listed these four sentence starters underneath: 

I’m sorry for…
This is wrong because…
In the future, I will…
Will you forgive me?

Notice the first point, in religious terms this might be called confession; the first point is not simply “I’m sorry.” It is “I’m sorry for …” There were times when my children were younger when they would apologize, “I’m sorry,” yet they couldn’t name what they were sorry for. They just knew they had done something wrong and had to apologize to move on. I could have used this formula back then.

The point here is to be specific. “I’m sorry for… something in particular” On the poster in that fourth-grade classroom, the first sentence is “I’m sorry for …” It is valuable to teach children, all people really, to say “I am sorry,” but you won’t get over it by glossing over it. Name the offense. It isn’t a time to generalize or be vague. Name it. “I’m sorry for calling you that mean name. I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’m sorry for putting mud on your things.” Whatever offences fourth graders commonly do. Consider what it might sound like for adults. Step one “I’m sorry for …”

Step two, “This is wrong because …” The second point on the teacher’s list is unusual in most lists I have about forgiveness. Confession, Repentance, and Atonement are the three common elements. Name what is wrong, describe what will be different, restore the relationship: Confession, Repentance, and Atonement. So, this new formula adds an extra step. It is a step about building empathy. It is about coming to understand why it was wrong or hurtful. It is about walking a mile in another person’s shoes. “This is wrong because…”

It is about seeing it from the other person’s perspective. This empathy may well be the heart of the whole 4-step process. Can I demonstrate to you that I understand what I have done that has hurt you? Too often the answer people give is “I am apologizing because I got caught.” No. It is wrong because I hurt your feelings. It is wrong because my actions had an impact on you.

Sometimes, when I have been hurt, hearing that the offender understands what went wrong is more powerful than the apology. It is the beginning to the repair to the relationship.

Saying “I’m sorry” is like saying, “I see that something needs to be fixed in our relationship.” Saying “I understand” is like saying “I see what went wrong, I see how it has affected you and us.” Instead of telling people “Say it like you mean it,” instead of inviting people to pretend they mean it, this step invites people to reflect on what it means. Step two, “It is wrong because…”

Step three, “In the future, I will …” Here is our repentance step. It is framed in the positive. “I’m sorry I took your pencil. It is wrong because it is your pencil. In the future, I will not take your pencil.” No. “In the future I will bring my own pencil or I will ask for and wait for permission to use your pencil.” This step is about what I will do instead. This is the turning from the negative to the positive, turning from the offense to the plan forward, turning from the past to the future.

Step one, “I’m sorry for…”
Step two, “It is wrong because…”
Step three “In the future, I will…”
And step four, “Will you forgive me?”

This is more complicated than the earlier formula I offered to my kids when they were young. In the old version, there is just step one: say, “I’m sorry.” There is no step two. Or, step two is for the other person to say their part in the script “I forgive you.” Well, throw that script out. It is not enough. It is too easy to mumble through meaninglessly. This new formula is a little more complicated, but so is life.

Think about what we are attempting to teach! Forgiveness is not about manners. If it were just manners, “Sorry” without really understanding would be fine. But we’re not talking about good manners. We are talking about forgiveness.

In the reading, the author describes how she assumed the poster and the lesson about “How to Say Sorry” would be a one-time thing which might have an impact for some of the kids outside of class. She was wrong. She writes about a shift that happened a few weeks later. She was leading her class through the “weekly Friday afternoon class meeting.” (ibid)

This teacher obviously had a good thing in place already, each week that had a time to process what had happened over the week. She brought up the apology lesson and invited the kids to think about anything they needed to take care of from the past week She figured they would think about it and take care of it privately, outside of class time.

But then someone raised their hand and began apologizing right then.

Before I could stop her, she began blubbering through her apology, reciting each line like she’d planned this for days. Maybe she had. I could see the relief on her face when her friend accepted her apology. The girls smiled shyly and I knew we were on to something good. Before I knew it, students were raising their hands left and right, eager to make amends with people they had offended. Some of the “offended” people hadn’t even realized that they had ever been wronged, but happily forgave anyway.

Then a boy raised his hand. A boy most of the kids did not like for all the usual reasons– he was bossy and rude and generally unpleasant to be around. He apologized to the whole class for being really, really annoying and stated his plans to change. I was among the many individuals exchanging puzzled but impressed glances, and indeed it was one big step in this child’s personal growth. It was especially heartwarming to see how his classmates interacted with him afterward. They really wanted to give him a second chance, and they sincerely tried to help him be his best. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him to admit to the class that he was annoying, but it was a powerful first step in changing his relationships with everyone. While not perfect, his behavior improved greatly after this event and I am glad I gave him the tools and space to “reset” this way. (ibid)

This formula is like training wheels. I’m not suggesting that as adults we need to learn and use this formula. (Unless you really need it, in which case: have at it.) I’m suggesting instead we notice the key ingredients. Specificity is important. Empathy is a remarkable addition. A positive, reframing focus is needed. And then simply ask for forgiveness.

What the other person does with that request is up to them. Forgiveness is usually worth it. But I don’t recommend fake forgiveness any more than I recommend a fake apology.

I begin with the theory that I can’t make someone else feel sorry anymore than I can make them feel forgiving. I can do my portion of it. I am in control of my actions. I can choose to turn, I can choose to invite the other person into the process with me. They, then, also choose. This formula is for when you really are sorry. This formula may help us learn what an apology really is.

What if you are not sorry? Then don’t apologize! Or, only apologize for that part you are actually sorry for, rather than for the whole argument. Remember the point is to start by being specific. Some people over-apologize to avoid conflict. This formula, like training wheels, may be helpful not only to correct both under-apologizing and over-apologizing – which ever you discover in yourself.

Perhaps you are thinking this would be helpful for someone else in your life. You would like someone else to apologize to you using this formula. Well, I’m not sure. You know the old joke about the congregant shaking the minister’s hand saying, “Fine sermon pastor, my neighbor could really use it.”

But there may be a way for this formula to be reversed so you can name an offense you have received, being specific; and then sharing why it was wrong, inviting the other person into empathy. I don’t know if it would work. It might.

Really, I am inviting you, not your neighbor, into this self-reflection. I am inviting you and me to consider our behaviors, and how we can each be inscribed in the Book of Life for another year. I am inviting us all into this annual opportunity of restoration once more. Now is the time for turning. “For leaves, birds, and animals turning comes instinctively.” How can we look within and take the steps we find needful to turn, ‘til we turn ‘round right?

Turn us around, O God, and bring us back toward you.
Revive our lives, as at the beginning
And turn us toward each other, God
For in isolation there is no life.
  -Jack Riemer #634

In a world without end,
May it be so.

Welcome Your Stranger
Douglas Taylor
September 17, 2017

Let us talk for a moment about the interplay of shadow and light (chiaroscuro). This little light of mine will shine, oh it will shine bright and glorious. But I have a little shadow and darkness as well. All of us have both light and shadow. It is the way of nature and all life. It is the light we want, the light we show; but darkness and shadow are present as well.

Here I am not talking about shadow is not a bad thing. Let us not think of shadow or dark as evil or negative. It’s just shadow. We want light more, but dark has its own glory as well. The dark is where the seed grows, darkness allows rest. Let us not think of dark and shadow as synonymous with evil.

Consider the times you have seen sunlight, actually seen a ray of sunshine. Perhaps it was a photograph or an experience while out in nature. Can you recall? When the light shines out through a cloud bank or breaks through the trees and you actually see the ray of sunlight? Have you seen that? It is as if the sun beam has a shape, a width and length.

The sunbeam in such an experience is clear because it is partly blocked by the trees and their shadows, or by clouds. Unfiltered light shines everywhere, but we notice it, we see it, when it is flickering, when it is filtered through shadow, when it is a little obstructed.

So, let us consider the interplay of light and shadow. Or, if it is easier, consider the stranger, the alien, the foreigner in our midst.

Most people seek out a homogeneous community, a place of like-minded people. Our religious community – indeed most religious communities are familiar. It is part of the ancient instinctual bias within us. We can be comfortable in conformity. We are at home in the homogenous. We are safest in sameness. This is not a bad thing, it is just a common thing. As a species, we have some hard-wiring about how we can stay safe and who we can trust.

As we’ve grown beyond our tribal civilization structures, but our hardwiring does not necessarily grow with us. We remain a little tribal to this day.

And don’t get me wrong, it is true that strangers can be dangerous. Just as darkness can hide dangerous things. This does not make the darkness bad. It makes it a risk. There is risk in stepping out of our comfort zone. It can be dangerous. Ah, but interestingly, the risk of danger is not the only risk! Sometimes the risk is growth. Meeting the stranger with an open hand, welcoming the shadow and darkness around us, this invites risk. There is the risk of harm but there is also the risk of growth.

Consider a model I found in a Richard Rohr blog a few months back. Rohr is a process theologian I find to be very accessible. Rohr was writing about “The Three Boxes.” We begin with order, move through disorder and if we keep at it we can find our way into reorder. He wrote, “Whenever we’re led out of normalcy into sacred, open space, it’s going to feel like suffering, because it is letting go of what we’re used to.” https://cac.org/the-three-boxes-2016-12-06/

Essentially, he was advocating for the value of disorder. He could have as easily written about imperfection or suffering or chaos. He picked a more neutral concept: disorder. You could equally think of it as the progression from thesis and antithesis into synthesis. Or perhaps: light, darkness, and the interplay of light and shadow which allows us to see sunbeams.

This is not meant as a moral judgment about light vs darkness, order vs disorder, or the like-minded community vs diverse community. Instead, it is an acknowledgment of comfort and discomfort, and the values of each. “This is always painful at some level,” Rohr writes in his blog, describing the move from the first box ‘order’ to the second box ‘disorder’; “But part of us has to die if we are ever to grow larger” In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (NIV; John 12:24)

This analysis is a reminder of the harmony we are aiming for, the third thing that can come: new life embracing paradox! The shadow allows the light to be seen more clearly. Perfection and imperfection reside together. Life and death, joy and sorrow, comfort and discomfort, arriving in the ‘third box’ of Richard Rohr’s model – the one he labeled ‘reorder’ – doesn’t mean we are back to pure light or perfection. It means we are nearing wholeness. There is both light and shadow, order and disorder residing side-by-side together in a dynamic wholeness.

As I consider this concept, this way of dealing with Rohr’s second box, of embracing disorder, I see both societal and personal applications. With a sermon title about welcoming strangers, perhaps the societal implication is easy to guess.

It is good and healthy for a society to welcome immigrants and refugees. Certainly, it can cause disruption and difficulty. To welcome the stranger is to invite change and disorder, especially if you allow the stranger to have an impact.

Religions the world over hold an important place for hospitality. In ancient times, hospitality was the cornerstone of civilization. Countless stories begin with a stranger or potential enemy arriving at the gate, and they are let in. There were wide-spread hospitality rules across different cultures, rules about how to be a good host and how to be a good guest, and about what is expected by both parties.

Abraham, in the Bible, wanders around before settling in Canaan; always hosted and treated well. And he, in turn, plays host in some of the tales. There are numerous times the theme of hospitality appears throughout the stories in Genesis. In Norse mythology, Odin would disguise himself as a stranger and wander the land to see how he would be treated. Other cultures and mythologies carry the theme as well.

Again and again, the appropriate response to meeting a stranger is to show hospitality. At least, that used to be the norm. It is not so today, not in our American culture today. There is a fierce push against diversity, against the influx of other cultures.

There is an anger in some parts of our country now against refugees and immigrants. I think the root of this is a fear that they will change American culture, (as if immigration is not as American as apple pie.)

But if we take Richard Rohr and others who echo his sentiment seriously, the only way forward is through the disorder. “Whenever we’re led out of normalcy into sacred, open space, it’s going to feel like suffering, because it is letting go of what we’re used to.” (Ibid)

Any time we encounter the ‘other’ we are challenged, and we are given an opportunity to be ‘led out of normalcy into sacred, open space.’

Consider, the current conversations we keep stirring up here about institutional racism and white supremacy and how well they fall into this formula too. Order and disorder, comfort and discomfort, and the misguided notion the disorder and discomfort are the problem. Meanwhile St. Louis is in the news this week for much the same reason as its suburb Ferguson 2 years ago: race riots sparked by systemic racism in the police force. And disorder has claimed the streets.

Our question should not be ‘how do we stop the disorder.’ We should ask, ‘how do we move through the disorder to the time of reorder.’ Part of the answer is to listen closely to what the disorder is offering. The rest of the answer is revealed by the listening.

Consider the interplay of light and shadow. Consider the way sunlight shines through the leaves or cloudbank. Consider the disorder in the world around us. Or consider the disorder within you. I see a personal application to Richard Rohr’s concept of three boxes. We all have shadowed places within our hearts. I have shadowed places within my heart.

Sometimes the troubles we see in the world are those we project from our own inner shadows. Sometimes people project an enemy onto a stranger or community of strangers out in the world that is more accurately a reflection of the stranger within.

How do you welcome the stranger within? Perhaps there is inner work we each must do before we offer hospitality to those around us. Is there some part of myself I deny? Some shadow – again, I do not mean something negative or bad, only hidden. How much disorder do you allow in your own living before you push it away or push it back into the older, comfortable order from before? How many ways do we travel between the first and second box, between order and disorder? Have you experienced reorder in your life, the interplay of shadow and light?

This can be tricky work, this welcoming of the stranger. How hard it is to welcome the stranger within! Remember the admonition: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware.” (Heb 13:2). The stranger is not only the foreigner, immigrant, or refugee arriving on our shores. The stranger is also not only our shadow within. The stranger may also be the holy.

Recall that sentence from Richard Rohr I keep says: “Whenever we’re led out of normalcy into sacred, open space, it’s going to feel like suffering, because it is letting go of what we’re used to.” He names it ‘sacred’ space. There is much we Unitarian Universalists say about the holy being found in our natural experience, in our everyday living. We talk about the natural world as sacred. But we emphasize that because in many ways an experience of the holy is not an experience of the normal. The holy is strange. Few things are stranger.

This is not to say all strange things are holy, only that an encounter with the stranger can open us up to the holy. Ancient traditions call us into hospitality, to welcome the new person or new experience. It is more than good manners – it is the path forward for civilization

Consider the interplay of light and shadow, the dynamic constancy, the perfect imperfection. Be not locked in to what has always been. It is not safety we find is sameness but stagnation and death. Release your fears, trust that the risk is worth it more often than it seems. Welcome your stranger, welcome and grow.

In a world without end,
May it be so.

Character and Grace

Rev. Douglas Taylor

August 8, 2017

My heart has been broken as I take in the news lately. The attacks in Barcelona are tragic. That and the events in and following after Charlottesville this past week have featured heavily in my prayers. Extremist ideology, whether in the form of ISIS abroad or Neo-Nazis and white nationalists at home, is a cancer to civilization today. Their hate and intolerance undermine the core values needed in our country and in our world.

Next week I will be preaching more directly to current events. I will attempt to offer an analysis and a compelling call for how we can move forward in light of what is going on in the country and the world around us. But today I want to talk about why we would do so, why it matters to us as a religious community. Today I need to tease out a deeper conversation; one that not only cuts to the theological heart of what is going on in the world, and is, at the same time, a central tension at the heart of our Unitarian Universalist identity and theology.

How do we judge another person’s worth or goodness? The answer to that question is tangled up in these rallies and terror attacks. Who is considered a good person, who is considered worthy, who counts, who matters? The extremists have an answer that leads them to behave in certain ways. Their answers lead them to hatred and in too many cases to violence. Racists, anti-Semites, misogynists, and other intolerant people have answers about how we judge a person’s worth and goodness that leave certain groups of people automatically excluded.

You may be thinking to yourself, our Unitarian Universalist answer is pretty obvious. It is right there at the top of our UU Principles. We affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person. Done! No one is excluded.

Okay, that answers how we officially judge other people’s worth. What about the other part of that question? How do you judge another person’s goodness? How do we judge if a person, or a person’s words or actions, are good? Is there something in our UU Principles giving us stark clarity about how to judge goodness? No. For that we need to dig a little deeper.

Indeed, worth and goodness as religious and spiritual concepts are fairly well intertwined – so our first principle, about every person’s inherent worth, is still a useful starting point. It’s just that, for Unitarian Universalists, the answers are more (brace yourself) nuanced and complicated.

And here might be as good a time as any for me to confess that every June as I prepare to go away on my vacation and study leave, I set my plan for these August worship services with an eye toward imagining new people, church-shoppers, folks exploring our congregation and our way of faith to see if it is a good fit. So I intended this service to be a window into our history and theology.

As my heart broke over the unfolding news, I discovered this window into our history and theology could be helpful for long-time members as well. Helpful for me! Our historical roots reveal the ground on which we stand, and thus the strength with which we can move forward.

Our history is comprised of a two-part lineage. The two theological frameworks – Unitarianism and Universalism – each arose from liberal protestant Christianity. The questions of worth and goodness back in that context were most commonly understood as doctrines of salvation.

We don’t spend much energy on the conversation of salvation in Unitarian Universalism today. We don’t gather around beliefs here. Instead we gather around shared values. But that doesn’t mean there are no beliefs – just that beliefs are not the binding element of our community. Salvation, and more importantly, a common belief about salvation, is not a central element of our religious community today. But historically back when our theological identities were emerging a few hundred years ago, it was very important. And, I contend, the same content is still important today because that same content shifted from a conversation of salvation into conversations of goodness and worth.

So suffer with me for a few minutes, an exploration of our 1800’s heretical notions of salvation. David Pyle, in the reading we had this morning (the reading was an excerpt of this sermon:  http://celestiallands.org/wayside/?p=2726) talked about a theological tension. What he was talking about is this: We inherit two theological frameworks of salvation.

The Unitarian side offers us what is known as Salvation by Character, while the Universalist side bequeaths us Salvation by Grace. (Thus, my title: Character and Grace.) We were not the only groups espousing these doctrines, and there was more to our theology back then than just this; so I am admittedly oversimplifying but I hope the value in doing so will be made clear.

‘Salvation by Character,’ as lived out in word and deed by early Unitarians, essentially states that we can know to what degree we are Godly people by our good actions. ‘Good’ and ‘Godly’ are synonymous. How you act matters and is the measure of your worthiness.

‘Salvation by Grace,’ as expressed in Universalism, is at base a statement that we are all pre-set as worthy; we all are – or will be – saved. Your worthiness is a pre-existing condition. We can act immorally and unethically, but such behavior does not threaten God’s love for us. We don’t earn it by good behavior and we don’t lose is through bad behavior. It is by grace, irrespective of character.

Our first principle, in which we covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, is a version of the old Salvation by Grace doctrine. For us, it is not a doctrine anymore; it is a promise, a covenant. But the theology beneath the principle is a doctrine about human nature and about salvation. It is this that leads us to pray for both sides. This is where we seek to understand the Neo-Nazis and White Supremacists. This is where we have the urge to be tolerant even of the intolerant.

Listen for a moment to Hosea Ballou’s own words on the topic. Ballou was an early Universalist preacher and theologian. In his book Treatise on Atonement, he made the argument for Universal Salvation based on the primacy of God’s love. Essentially, if God’s love is true, than there is nothing we can do that is greater than God’s perfect love for us.

One version of ‘the atonement’ is that Christ died on the cross to appease Adam’s sin, to pay humanity’s debt. Ballou said that is backward. Ballou insisted instead that God never turned away from humanity, never needed to be appeased, never carried a debt against humanity, never stopped loving us. And Ballou used logic and reason to demonstrate this. He writes:

To say that God loved man any less, after transgression, than before, denies his unchangeability… Where there is dissatisfaction, it presupposes an injured party; and can it be hard to determine which was injured by sin, the Creator, or the sinner? If God were unreconciled to man, the atonement was necessary to renew his love to his creature; but if man were unreconciled, the atonement was necessary to renew his love to his Creator. The matter is now stated so plainly that no person, who can read, can mistake.  -Hosea Ballou, A Treatise on Atonement 1805 [excerpt from A Documentary History of Unitarian Universalism Volume One (p138)]

This is to say, no mistake you make – no sin or moral failing – will ever be larger than God’s love for you. This is not a love based on good behavior, it doesn’t matter what swear words you keep saying, how much you litter, with whom you have sex, or whether you attended that KKK rally intentionally or accidentally. It doesn’t matter. God loves you. Your salvation is assured.

Fast forward to today, to our congregation where we have a multitude of beliefs about the nature of God – or the lack thereof. We still have a core value of tolerance and acceptance and grace at play in our community. For some here it is still rooted in God’s Love or a doctrine of Salvation by Grace. But for most Unitarian Universalists, these values are simply part of our shared core values. We affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

Ah, but the other shoe must drop. Perhaps you already see the tension David Pyle was referring to in our reading. If not, allow me to tell you about Salvation by Character. Unitarianism begins from a different salvation doctrine. It still leads to a version of our current first principle, but it starts in a very different place.

Salvation by Character does not start from a place of universal salvation and grace. Early Unitarianism held a firm belief in the eternal punishment of hell; that salvation was for some but not necessarily for all. Now, they were still rejecting the idea of predestination; that God had picked some people at the beginning of time. Instead they ascribed to the belief that character matters in the grand scheme. To oversimplify it: good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell.

William Ellery Channing, ‘the father of American Unitarianism” expressed it cogently in his sermon Likeness to God. Similar to the Ballou, Channing begins with a basic assumption about God and uses logic and reason to make his argument. Instead of naming Love as God’s most important attribute, the Channing and the other Unitarians name Goodness. Channing contends that the ‘image of God’ within every person is our capacity to be like God in exactly that attribute: goodness. Channing writes:

To understand a great and good being, we must have the seeds of the same excellence … God becomes a real being to us, in proportion as his own nature is unfolded within us. To a man who is growing in the likeness of God, faith begins even here to change into vision. He carries within himself a proof of Deity, which can only be understood by experience.  -William Ellery Channing, Likeness to God, 1828 [excerpt from A Documentary History of Unitarian Universalism Volume One (p214)]

This is to say, it is possible to know who is saved and who is not. But the telling attribute is not devotion and quoted bible verses. The telling attribute is not about attending the ‘correct’ church. The telling attribute is not wealth and material prosperity. No. The way to know if someone is saved is simply that they are a good person. Of course, the measure of morality is not a fixed and obvious thing, so this simple definition of goodness is actually a little more complicated than it may seem. The definition of a morally upright person in 19^th century New England is not the same as in 20^th century Guatemala, 5^th century Japan, or the trenches of World War II.

Fast forward to today and I see a debate on my Facebook feed about punching Nazis. Is it always a good thing to do, or only under certain circumstances? I read an article in which a self-proclaimed fascist said some people call him a hero and other call him a terrorist. By whose definition of Good are we to measure? A year ago I would not have thought there to be any debate about where Neo-Nazis and the KKK were on the moral spectrum in the eyes of the average American. I now learn my assumption has been misplaced and some people thing there are good Neo-Nazis.

I have no qualms standing here and saying Neo-Nazis and the KKK and White Nationalist groups are morally bad. I have a pretty good idea how to judge another person’s goodness. But I don’t know that I can say or have the authority to say definitively for all people for all time. I have difficulties with absolutes. Plus, in truth, I am Universalist with Unitarian leanings rather than the other way around.

Here is the tension. The Universalist side tells us all are saved. The Unitarian side says all can be saved if they do good. Updating the language from beliefs about salvation to values about goodness and worth, helps (me at least) uncover a way to navigate the tension. The Universalist side says all are loved, while the Unitarian side says all are capable of doing good. This is how I navigate the tension.

In this religious community, when we raise our children and nurture their moral upbringing, these two doctrines echo through our values and are at play. We teach our children that they are loved and accepted, and we challenge them to strive to do good, to become better. When we put a justice-oriented banner outside our building, these two doctrines are in tension as we do so. When we welcome someone into membership, when we take part in an interfaith vigil, when we have a special collection for a charity or local organization, when we restructure our committees into teams, when we serve others … this tension of character and grace is at play.

If you find yourself wanting to respond to racist rallies with peace, love and understanding, praying for people on all sides – the racists and the anti-racists, I hope you have heard that such a response is a noble response and a fairly traditional one given our theological history.

If you find yourself wanting to respond to racist rallies with a clarion call for justice, declaring a challenge to those wrong-doers who spew hate, perpetuate violence, I hope you have also heard that such a response is a noble response and fairly traditional one given our theological history.

And if you find yourself torn between these and perhaps other similar responses, I welcome you to the tension that is the vibrant center of our shared faith. This is not merely our history. We are living it out today.

We are called to be a community of acceptance, exemplifying God’s love for all humanity. And we are equally called to be a beacon of justice in the world, doing our part to build a better world, challenging those who would bring hate to the table. Through the values of acceptance, grace, and Universal Love, we can grasp the values of character, integrity, and justice. And in the tension, we find our way.

In a world without end, may it be so.

Binding the Strong Man
Rev. Douglas Taylor
June 18, 2017

Throughout the first several chapters of Mark’s gospel, Jesus is wandering around the countryside doing a few particular things. He is gathering disciples. He is healing the sick. And he is casting out demons. Later he starts telling parables and teaching; later he goes to Jerusalem, holds his last supper, is arrested, is killed, and his tomb is found empty. But the early part of Mark’s gospel shows Jesus wandering the countryside healing and casting our demons.

I grew up in a Humanist Unitarian Universalist congregation. I learned a very rational and thoughtful version of faith and belief. I am not Christian, but I do appreciate the wisdom found in the words and deeds of Jesus. I suspect the majority of Unitarian Universalists, like me, appreciate the ethical teachings and spiritual wisdom of Jesus. The Sermon on the Mount with the beatitudes has some of our favorite passages from Jesus. “Blessed are you who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for you will be filled.” (Mt 5:6) “Love your enemies.” (Mt 5:44) “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” (Mt 5:7) “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” (Mt 7:1) “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” (7:12) It is great stuff!

As some of you know from previous sermons you have heard me preach, in my adult years I have circled back to an appreciation of the healing and miracle stories in the gospels – not because I believe they are historical or factual. Rather because I find wisdom and hidden lessons in those passages. All those stories about Jesus walking on water, healing the blind, blessing and forgiving people – I have grown to love those stories as well. The exorcisms too, although they have been a little harder for me.

Did Jesus really cast out demons? In Unitarian Universalist circles, we endeavor to reject literal interpretations of scripture. When I read about Jesus performing an exorcism, commanding a demon to leave a person, I avoid literalist questions. A literalist interpretation would say “Yes – that account is factual, historical, and indeed proof of Jesus’ divine mission.” To say “No – there are no demons, the account is made-up and untrue,” is also a literal interpretation. The question, “Did Jesus really cast out demons?” asks for a literal interpretation – Yes or No. From my perspective, it is the wrong question and I refuse to answer it.

I look for mythic interpretations rather than literal interpretations. I read them like I read the parables. When Jesus talked about Sower or the Talents, it is a thin interpretation to think those stories are only about farming and money management. Although, such interpretations can still serve, it’s just that there is so much more to them if you are open to hearing them as parables, as metaphors with second and even third meanings to them. So I hear the healings, miracles, and exorcisms like parables – what are the second and third messages hidden in the stories.

There are two levels of mythic or metaphoric interpretation I look for. I read for the personal level – what are the spiritual or moral lessons for me in this passage? And I read for the communal level – what are the ethical and political lessons for us in this passage?

I have come to the opinion that looking at the exorcisms is worth my time, our time, if only because they are a fairly common event in the gospel. In Mark’s gospel there are three detailed accounts of Jesus commanding ‘unclean spirits’ or demons to leave a person. (1:23-28; 5:1-20; 9:14-29) But a few times we read: “And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons” (1:34) “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.” (1:39) The image painted of Jesus not sitting quietly extolling virtues before an enthralled crowd, but of a man hurrying from place to place with power in his hands – touching people, speaking quietly and personally to folks, moving through crowds with his eyes searching for people in need.

Mark 1:21-28 (NRSV)

²¹ They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. ²² They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. ²³ Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴ and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” ²⁵ But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” ²⁶ And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. ²⁷ They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” ²⁸ At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

A personal interpretation of any of the exorcisms can easily focus on topics like addiction or some aspects of mental health. People talk about wrestling with their personal demons. In this way, the demon possession symbolizes something else, some inner struggle with our past, with an addiction, with our body image or self-worth even. In Chapter 5 of Mark, Jesus meets up with the Gerasene Demoniac (5:1-20). Jesus says, “What is your name,” and the man says “My name is Legion; for we are many.” What a powerful metaphor! I can’t figure out who I really am because it feels like there are dozens of me inside me and not all of them are attractive.

And here comes Jesus, or perhaps even Jesus in the story symbolizes something else – some power or grace – something external to the struggle that breaks the cycle. In this personalized parallel, the solution to the struggle comes from beyond our own control or power.

The basic model of Alcoholics Anonymous talks about the addiction in this exact parallel manor. Step one of the 12-step program is “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.” And step two is “We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” The alcoholism is like a demon possessing us, but there is something else more powerful that can help us to cast it out.

It is profitable to read passages in the gospels with an eye toward where you personally fit in the story. Am I like the father in that parable or like the son? Does the widow in that story reflect my own struggle? In the gospels, Jesus suggests we can do exactly this with the parables – see ourselves in parallel to the characters in the story. I say we can do this with the healings and exorcisms, not just the parables.

And, that is not the only way we can read a mythic interpretation. Finding my own personal connection is one thing. But what about a communal reading? What about a political reading?

The exorcism in Capernaum I read earlier is recorded early in Mark’s gospel – chapter one. It is Jesus’ first ‘public’ action. Mark’s version begins with Jesus being baptized by John. He is then tempted in the wilderness for forty days, after which he returns to Galilee and calls Simon Peter and his brother Andrew to be disciples. Then he goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath and starts teaching.

Think about what that would have been like. Jesus is not a scribe, he is not ordained, he was not called by the community – he just walked in one day, one Sabbath day, and started proclaiming his message about God’s Kingdom.

In a political reading, this context is important. Jesus’ ministry was a disruption and a challenge to the corrupt leaders of his day – not just to the occupying army of the Roman Empire but also to the religious leaders who sold out their own people and religion by colluding with the empire. We usually notice this passage for the exorcism, but this act of teaching in the synagogue is an act of civil disobedience! It is political theater, non-violent protest and direct action!

What if we read exorcisms as communal political events, as acts of liberation? With the personal mythic interpretation I suggested the demon symbolized a personal struggle, such as addiction. With a communal mythic interpretation I suggest the demon symbolizes a communal struggle, such as oppression: the people caught under the yoke of imperial rule and their religion coopted by corrupt leaders in the pocket of Caesar. I say it fits. The literal stories of exorcism are acts of liberation. It seems a fairly apt parallel to talk about communal exorcism, freedom for the oppressed people.

In 1988, Ched Myers wrote a textbook about how to read the gospel of Mark with a political interpretation. He titled it Binding the Strong Man after phrase in the passage we used this morning as our first reading. In explaining his mission, in what he is doing with these exorcisms, Jesus says, “no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.” (Mark 3:27) It is interesting that Mark’s Jesus used a ‘breaking and entering’ metaphor, an image of ‘plundering,’ to legitimize his actions.

And here comes Jesus, liberating the poor and disenfranchised from bondage, rebuking the demons, commanding them to leave – and they do because he knows their names! For such is the power of naming, at least in mythic experience of living. What might their names be today? What are the names of the demons of oppression today?

50 years ago, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King spoke at Riverside Church on the topic of the Vietnam War and gave name to what he called the “triplets,” the triple threat against our society today: militarization, poverty, and racism. He named them as forces leading us away from our goal of Beloved Community, as forces leading us into chaos.

Our society has certainly made progress over the past 50 years, but the ‘triplets’ still possess us, still lure us away into chaos today. We don’t need a Roman Emperor to experience imperial domination. The players and politicians change, but the demons remain. Power and wealth are centralized. Local police departments are outfitting themselves with military grade equipment to be used against our own citizens. Poverty in our country continues to decline as the decades go by, but alarmingly the gap between the rich and poor expands. And all our strides against racism have had an impact yet we continue to struggle.

But what if? What if we all were exorcists? What would we be doing? In the gospel story, Jesus empowered his disciples to rebuke demons and cast them out. If we read this mythically from a political interpretation, what were the disciples empowered to do?

Gandhi recognized a solution, echoing through the ages. He said,

[the poor] cannot successfully fight [the big powers] with their own weapons. After all, you cannot go beyond the atom bomb. Unless we have a new way of fighting imperialism of all brands in place of the outworn one of violent revolution, there is no hope for the oppressed [1948, 11:8].

But there is hope. Gandhian nonviolence as a tool of direct action has been effective far more often that the most people realize. It is a form of exorcism, of rebuke against the demons. Nonviolent direct action is a communal power.

Jesus walked into the synagogue in Capernaum and began teaching. He rebuked the challenge that came and continued on his way. This story of the exorcism in Capernaum was his first of several public direct actions campaigns designed to resist the imperial rule of his day. The lesson for us is to locate ourselves in today’s imperial scenario – to see it for what it is on that mythic level. To rally our own power to resist chaos and call in Kingdom of God – the Beloved Community – using the best and most effective power we have at our disposal.

Add your voice to chorus to resistance, heeding the hidden lessons revealed in these stories of exorcism. Become exorcists yourselves. Name the demons you know, personal or communal; name them and rebuke them and help us bring in the beloved community for all.

In a world without end,
May it be so.