Sermons

Messages in the Music
Douglas Taylor
4-10-11

Part I

I was in the car this past week with my older son and he looked over at the police car that was waiting at the red light next to us and reported that the cop was singing. I said, “No, he was probably talking to headquarters or something.” And Keenan laughed, “No, his shoulders were bouncing and he was into it. He was definitely singing.”

I’m the kind of person who sings in the car. I sing in the shower and in the living room and at the kitchen table and out on the sidewalk. I sing along to the radio and without the radio if the mood strikes me. There’s a popular TV show now called Glee and part of the charm of the show is the way the characters just break into song now and then. It’s a fun show and has, on occasion, really risen up to the level of social commentary – not always, but occasionally.

I suspect the allure is the music. It is almost like a musical except they don’t sing everything; they speak most of their lines and occasionally break into song. Perhaps it is closer to how, for some people, there is music bouncing around in their heads all the time; and in the world of Glee, sometimes this music comes out … with full back-up by the stage band who happen to be just standing over there.

There is something special about music. It gets at a level of the brain that regular words cannot reach. In some way it invites the hearer to share in the experience. It is like poetry or storytelling but more, because music gets into our awareness in a different way. Victor Hugo said, “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent.” I think he is referring specifically to instrumental or orchestral music. “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent.” It expresses something, but it also brings something out of us.

Aristotle wrote: “Music has a power of forming the character, and should therefore be introduced into the education of the young.” Pull that quote out during the next round of public school budget cuts. Or you could call on Aristotle’s counterpart, Plato who wrote, “Musical training is a more potent instrument than any other in the integration of the human being because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the Soul on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the Soul of him who is rightly educated truly graceful.” So, music weaves its way into your very being and calls forth a virtue of grace and character; at least according to the ancient Greek philosophers.

When you interact with young people who are listening to music, or blaring music, or deafening you with their atrocious noise … it is worth noting that something important is being transmitted through that music. There are messages in the music that shape our character, that define us and help us understand ourselves and our world.

Admittedly, the vast majority of good songs out there on the radio are basically love songs.

You’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isn’t so. [Paul McCartney]

And there’s noting wrong with that (unless the message is grossly unrealistic or destructive. I’ll give you an example of that later.) But there is nothing wrong with a profusion of silly love songs. One of my favorite songs on the radio is by Michael Franti and Spearhead,

Say, hey, I be gone today
But I’ll be back around the way
Seems like everywhere I go
The more I see, the less I know
But I know one thing that I love you, baby girl
I love you, I love you, I love you.

Carlos Santana has said, “Just as Jesus created wine from water, we humans are capable of transmuting emotion into music.” And romantic love is not the only emotion that is out there on the radio waves. There are messages in the music.

There is a scene from a recent movie remake called I Am Legend starring Will Smith. Smith’s character is talking to someone about why he continues to try to make a difference. He talks about Reggae musician Bob Marley, saying:

He believed that you could cure racism and hate… literally cure it, by injecting music and love into people’s lives. When he was scheduled to perform at a peace rally, a gunman came to his house and shot him down. Two days later he walked out on that stage and sang. When they asked him why – He said, “The people, who were trying to make this world worse… are not taking a day off. How can I?”

That scene stuck with me and I started thinking about the messages I hear in the music around me. I wondered about the messages that we talk about here in this sanctuary about peace, light, acceptance, respect, and honoring each person’s path to the holy. And I wondered if there were songs out there on the radio that people are listening to that have messages like the ones we’re lifting up in here.

I have sung Cat Steven’s Moonshadow which seems to be about non-attachment and acceptance. And I’ve shared snippets of Gospel music and Sweet Honey in the Rock. And I’ve sung Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly, a Beatle’s song about overcoming the impossible. But what about today’s popular music? What about songs that are not ‘church music?’ These songs are from an earlier generation, what are the messages in today’s music?

In the 60’s and 70’s popular music became a vehicle of social change in a way unheard of before. The Times they are a-changing. “Come on people now, smile on each other, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.” How many times must a man turn his head, pretending he just doesn’t see? There was a message in this stuff back then. A message about change, about righting the social wrongs, about making the whole world a new place guided by the law of love, about surviving and growing strong in the face of overwhelming hardship.

Listen to this song by Sam Cooke, written in 1964 on the edge of the growing Civil Rights Movement.

— Amoreena Wade sings Change is Gonna Come —

Part II

And now listen to a song from this generation about the prospect of change:

Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer

me and all my friends
we’re all misunderstood
they say we stand for nothing and
there’s no way we ever could
now we see everything that’s going wrong
with the world and those who lead it
we just feel like we don’t have the means
to rise above and beat it

so we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change

I want to grab John Mayer and say, haven’t you been paying attention? If you want change you don’t just sit there waiting for it to happen for you. You need to get up, stand up. Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up. Don’t give up the fight. I mean what is it with this generation of mine?!

But in exploring this a little further I of course uncovered the songs “Dear Mr. President” by Pink and “American Idiot” by Green Day among several others from the past 10 years or so. The protest songs of today are subtler and perhaps rarer that they were in the 60’s and 70’s. But there are still some pretty good messages to be found.

I will admit that I limited my search to popular music on the radio, music that is out there floating around, if you will. I sent the question out on facebook asking people to suggest songs that had good messages. I had tons of responses. But I wanted to limit my search to popular music because that is the stuff that is floating around for most people to tune in to.

I checked the billboard charts to see what songs have been in the #1 spot lately. I gotta tell you, there have been three songs dominating the weekly #1 spot in 2011 and two of them have a really great message. The third one is a terrible song: Grenade by Bruno Mars. This Grenade song is about how the singer would catch a grenade for the woman he loves, throw his hand on a blade for her, jump in front of a train and so on. That in itself is bad enough, but the “I would die for you” message has been around for a while in music. The twist Mr. Mars adds in his #1 hit is when he sings:

Yes, I would die for ya baby; But you won’t do the same.

All I can think is that a willingness to die a violent death for someone is not a solid foundation for a lasting relationship and this woman was probably pretty smart to get out of that relationship.

But cheer up and take hope, the other two songs that have dominated the charts lately offer much better messages. Lady GaGa has a song called “Born This Way.” This song makes a strong statement against racism and homophobia.

No matter gay, straight or bi
Lesbian, transgendered life
I’m on the right track, baby
I was born to survive
No matter black, white or beige
Chola or orient made
I’m on the right track, baby
I was born to be brave

This song is becoming the anthem of this generation akin to Gloria Gaynor’s “I will Survive.” And while I still like Gaynor’s old song better, that’s not the point. The powerful message is still here. I’m on the right track baby, I was born to survive

The third song on the top of the 2011 charts is “Firework” by Katy Perry. Now, Katy Perry is not an artist I would have thought could produce this kind of song, but I have to admit I really like this one. Firework is basically saying that everyone has a spark inside; and that even if we feel like outcasts among our peers or feel lost or fragile or insecure – there is that spark within that can, with a little effort, blossom into a stunning display. That’s the kind of message I like to hear, that’s the kind of message we offer here.

The TV show I mentioned earlier, Glee, has done “Firework” and will be doing “Born This Way” later this season. But my favorite scene was a song sung by my favorite character, Mercedes – I know, I like Kurt too, but Mercedes is my favorite.

“Beautiful” by Christina Aguillera

Every day is so wonderful
And suddenly it’s hard to breathe
Now and then I get insecure
From all the pain, feel so ashamed

I am beautiful no matter what they say
Words can’t bring me down
I am beautiful in every single way
Yes, words can’t bring me down, oh no
So don’t you bring me down today

To all your friends you’re delirious
So consumed in all your doom
Tryin’ hard to fill the emptiness, the piece is gone
Left the puzzle undone, ain’t that the way it is?

‘Cause you are beautiful no matter what they say
Words can’t bring you down, oh no
You are beautiful in every single way
Yes, words can’t bring you down, oh no
So don’t you bring me down today

We have songs in our hymnal that offer this sort of message. Isn’t it nice to know that popular music is offering some of the same messages too?

And there is “Unwritten” by Natasha Beddingfield that talks about trusting your own experiences. And then “Hands” by Jewel that talks about empowerment and agency in life. And “You Found Me” by The Fray that is a modern retelling of Job, dealing with suffering and loss and a questioning of God. “Perfect” by Pink with its message that you may feel like you’re less than nothing but really you are perfect to me. Or Rob Thomas’ “Little Wonders” where he sings about how our lives are made of small moments, the everyday simple things that really matter. And U2 has been producing powerful and poignant songs for a couple of decades now.

You know, there really are a lot of great songs with great messages out there today. Listen for the messages. Google the lyrics and learn what the song is saying. What are the messages in the music you choose to listen to? Ask other people what they’re listening to and why? What are the messages in the music you hear around you, the music that is being absorbed by our youth and children? It was Nietzsche who said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” So listen for the music. Remember Aristotle when he said “Music has a power of forming the character.” Let us listen, and lift up the best messages from our music.

In a world without end,
May it be so.

A Welcoming Congregation: Still Standing!
Rev. Douglas Taylor
3-27-11

We have a big bright banner hanging in our social hall that proclaims we are Standing on the Side of Love. The banner, linked to this wonderful anthem we just had, is part of a major justice-making campaign in Unitarian Universalism. It began a little over a year ago. One of the explanatory sentences says, “This campaign seeks to harness the power of love to stop oppression, exclusion, and violence.” Unitarian Universalism, as a faith tradition, stands up with love against oppression and exclusion and violence. For religious reasons we stand with the oppressed and the excluded. It could be for political reasons or social reasons, and those are a part of all this. But really, we stand on the side of love for religious reason.

On a national level, the campaign targeted two particular issues and communities of oppression. As a congregation, we have taken the “Standing on the Side of Love” idea into nearly every aspect of our justice making efforts, but on the national level the focus is of the oppression, exclusion, and violence against sexual minorities and undocumented immigrants. Next week the focus of my sermon will be on immigration. Today our focus is on our congregation’s stance as a Welcoming Congregation and with lgbt issues such as gay marriage.

Gay marriage is one of those exciting and sensational issues today. I am in the camp of people who feel it is long past time for our country to allow gay and lesbian couples to legally marry. I’ll even go so far as to push it as a separation of church and state. Let the state get out of the marriage business all together! Let the state give everyone a legal ‘union’ with all the legal rights and responsibilities that go with it. Then if a couple wants to be religiously wed as well then they can go to their clergy of choice and get right with God or whatever. But I doubt we’ll see that much change anytime soon, so I’ll keep pushing for marriage for same sex couples as it is currently formulated.

And now I hear that the general public, by a slim majority, agree with me. Columnist Leonard Pitts’ recently wrote a great article about that point. He didn’t write about how 51% of Americans agree with me exactly; the article was about how the majority now agree that gay men and women have a civil right to marry. Pitts admits, however, to a certain nagging concern in the news of this new poll data. Certainly it is great that a growing majority are ready to repeal the restrictions against marriage equality, that the great ‘voice of the people’ is growing more unified in its support. And yet …

Pitts puts it like this, “Yes, the will of the people matters a great deal. Indeed, in a democracy, few things are more deserving of deference. But still, one draws up short at the idea that human rights are subject to a popularity contest.” Lyndon Johnson did not take a poll of the American people before signing the Civil Rights Act of ’64 or the Voting Rights Act of ’65. The country was founded on the notion that all persons have ‘unalienable’ rights.

If you believe that, [Pitts’ writes,] then you cannot buy into this notion of a nation where rights are magnanimously doled out to the minority on a timetable of the majority’s choosing. You and I cannot “give” rights. We can only acknowledge, respect and defend the rights human beings are born with.
That’s the pebble in the shoe, the popcorn husk between the teeth, that nags at the conscience when one reads polls tracking how many of us approve of other people’s lives and decisions. It’s all well and good that 51 percent of us support the right of gay men and lesbians to tell it to the judge, but really, what hubris makes us think we have a right to say yea or nay in the first place?
One hopes that, as they grapple with the issue of gay marriage, our leaders will also grapple with that question. And find in it the courage to understand what Lyndon Johnson did: You don’t do the right thing because it’s popular.
You do it because it’s right.

Over my dozen years in ministry I have officiated as many same sex unions, non-legal ceremonies that recognize and honor the commitment and love between two people. A few weeks ago I walking in on a conversation my wife was having with our two boys, 18 and 9 years old, respectively. They were talking about one of the gay couples we know who are legally married, but how they had to go to Canada for the ceremony. I mentioned another couple we knew who did this in Vermont. Our youngest son was confused by this. My wife clarified for him saying that in New York State it is not yet possible to get married if you are a gay or lesbian couple. But our state does recognize other state and international marriages. In other words, you can be married to someone of the same sex in New York, you just can’t get married. To which our 9-year-old said, and I quote, “That’s stupid.”

In May of 2004, Massachusetts became the first state that allows same-sex marriage. The first same-sex couple to get a marriage license in Massachusetts was a UU couple and it was issued by the UU city clerk. And the minister officiating at the ceremony was Rev. Bill Sinkford, then president of the Unitarian Universalist Association.

But here in New York, we still do non-legal ‘services of union.’ The first service of union done by a UU minister for a same-sex couple was reportedly done in the late 1950s. [http://www.uua.org/documents/obgltc/history.pdf] It became more common practice in the late 1970s and early 1980s; and in 1984, we passed a resolution at our General Assembly affirming the use of “services of union” to recognize committed same-sex relationships, thus giving it official religious sanction.

But support for gay marriage is not the whole package. Indeed, that is only one aspect, a social and political aspect of a much broader picture. We are a religious community and as such there are deeply religious reasons for our support and the greatest hallmark of that support is the kind of community we create in our congregations. We are a Welcoming Congregation, which means something very particular. The Methodists have “Reconciling” congregations, the UCC call their communities “Open and Affirming,” while some Presbyterian churches have “More Light.” For Unitarian Universalists congregations we say we are “Welcoming.”

One of the first objections to being a Welcoming Congregation in a liberal community such as this is not to quote objections from the Bible or say it is against God’s will to be open and accepting of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. We don’t get into biblical arguments here.

Other churches will make use of what have been called the “Clobber Passages” in the Bible. There are 4 or 6 or 10 passages, depending on how you count them, in the bible that are used to condemn homosexuality. But as Unitarian Universalists we have long ago stepped away from a literal reading of scripture. We have long since subscribed to the notion that the Bible is a human document, a library of books by different human author at different times from different cultures and that each text has both culturally bound portions we can set aside amidst the enduring and profound parts. So we just ignore the so-called Clobber Passages. This is not a problem for us. We just side-step the whole issue of “the bible says …” Everyone picks and chooses which scriptural texts they lift up and use. Someone once said (Lynn Lavner, comedian and musician) “The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love heterosexuals. It’s just that they need more supervision.”

We Unitarian Universalists have a history that leads us to see this in a particular direction. We’re guided by love. We acknowledge that we are picking and choosing just like everyone else. We choose love over hate. We stand on the side of love.

So if biblical quotations are not the first line of objection among Unitarian Universalists to becoming and living the reality of being a Welcoming Congregation, what is? It is this: why single any one group out for welcoming. We are welcoming to all!

Unfortunately, churches are still the most anti-homosexual institution in America. Much of the hate against gays and lesbians is couched in religious, biblical language. The vast majority of people in prison for gay-related crime cite “religious” motivations (from p11, Welcoming Congregation). Homosexuality is the last acceptable group to hate for religious reasons – at least acceptable to some … It is not acceptable here. But it remains particularly hard for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people to trust that a religious community will be a safe community. That is why we are specifically singling out gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people to welcome.

I was invited to speak a few weeks ago at Binghamton University to a small group of trainers for “Safe Zones.” Rev. Art Suggs from First Congregational and I spoke about how our congregations were welcoming communities and that we each came from a theological perspective that said homosexuality is welcomed, affirmed and even celebrated. Near the end of our conversation with the university people I asked, “As a person comes out of the closet about their sexual orientation, I am getting the sense that they feel the need to go into another closet if they feel at all religious.” The people around the table confirmed that this is often the case. If you are gay, it feels like you can be open about your sexuality or your spirituality but not both.

Religion has such a bad track record among gays and lesbians that a community such as ours has to go a little out of the way to be clear. It’s not enough to say, “It doesn’t matter to us if a person is gay.” We need to say, “Yes, it does matter, and all of us are welcome here.” Holly Near, composer of our opening hymn, has credited Unitarian Universalist congregations as one of the only open public places where gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and openly question people could meet socially, spiritually, and politically outside of bars for far too many years.

Our Binghamton congregation was one of the first congregations to go through the Welcoming Congregation program. The workbook was published in 1990. We completed the process and had our congregational vote to officially become “Welcoming” in June 1992, which is impressive. We were one of about ten or twenty congregations in the country at that point. Now, well over half of all Unitarian Universalist congregations are officially “Welcoming Congregations,” meaning they have gone through the workbook process. It is generally fair to say that even those of our congregations that have not done the official work are still very open and accepting communities.

Part of the process is to create structures within the life of the community to be intentionally welcoming. For example, as good UUs one of the requirements for the program is to create a standing committee that will hold LGBT issues and concerns. We had the “Gay and Lesbian Concerns” committee for a long time and in trying to be more inclusive without lengthening an already long committee name, the group has recently become the Rainbow Alliance.

When I began serving this congregation in 2003, there was an active committee hosting an annual Sunday morning worship service during the year and participating significantly in an annual interfaith evening service each summer. Over the years the energy had faded until a few years ago there was a concerted effort made by the congregation’s leadership to revitalize the committee. It seems to be working. Alongside the activities the Rainbow Alliance has in motion already now, I have been suggesting we consider going through the Welcoming Congregation workshop again.

Currently the program is in its second edition. And it has been suggested that a congregation can pick up just the revised portions when they want to re-do the process. One major change from the first to second edition is found in the attention given to racism and the confluence of oppressions such as racism and homophobia. The second major change is in the attention given to bisexual and transgender concerns. It is noted that people work to dismantle homophobia first, then biphobia and then transphobia – in that order.

I don’t know, calling it all about ‘phobias’ like that is not an enticing way into the conversation. I absolutely understand that fear is at the root of a lot of the issues, but it seems to me the driving reason this all matters to us, why it matters to me, is that I want all of us to be able to gather in an open and welcoming congregation like this to grow in spirit and compassion so we can build a better world together. I want my friends to be able to come here – all my gay, straight, lesbian, trans, bi, and questioning friends.

For nearly 20 years now, this congregation has been standing up as Welcoming and celebrating community, offering a loving message of inclusion and acceptance. Nearly 20 years and we’re still standing on the side of love. And when we are welcoming to those who are shunned for supposedly religious reasons, then we are welcoming in all the best of ways.

In a world without end,
May it be so.

Love and Death
3-13-11
Rev. Douglas Taylor

This past Wednesday was the beginning of Lent for our Christian brothers and sisters. Perhaps you noticed, as I did, people in the grocery store with ashes on their foreheads. “From dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.” (Genesis 3:19) I attended an Ash Wednesday service with my daughter many years ago, primarily just to see what it was all about. Having grown up Unitarian Universalist I am sometimes overtaken by a curiosity and longing to see and experience what many UUs experienced in childhood before finding this faith.

My daughter and I sat through the Ash Wednesday service, listened to the scripture lessons, the prayers, and the homily – which was quite remarkable. The minister used passages from a modern Buddhist meditation book, drawing comparisons to Lent. He also talked about his experiences as a young employee of a local grocery store, reflecting on how they had to close the store once a year to do a full inventory of their stock and how that is what Lent is like. We have to close the store and take stock.

Then we went up through the lines of worshipers to get a smudge of ash across our foreheads in the sign of the cross. “From dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.” You are mortal. You will die. Wear this mark on your face all day; you will likely forget it is there but you will see the reactions of people around you and suddenly you well remember. You are dust; you are mortal; you will die.

I know the major theme of Lent is around the discipline of abstaining, of giving something up, of sacrificing for Jesus. Through prayer, charity, and self-denial, the practicing Christian is preparing for holy week. Prayer, charity, and self-denial are what the 40 days are about; but the last one, self-denial, is what everyone talks about, what everyone sees.

But what I was struck by most in the Ash Wednesday service I attended was not the prayer, charity or even the self-denial. It was the experience of being asked to face my own mortality. I am dust. I am mortal. I will die. If I were in charge of all the rituals I would ease up on the renunciation and self-denial aspect of Lent and focus on the facing of mortality; but not in a lugubrious manner. I would set it up as a challenge, as a reminder to live life more fully. If I were in charge of Lent we would have no more of this giving up luxuries and vices temporarily. I mean, if you’re going to give up vices, just do it. And as for luxuries, well … I can see the deep value in that that, but that’s another sermon. Still, I would shift the Lenten focus. Instead of sacrifice and self-denial, we would celebrate life amidst the sharp contrast of death.

If I were in charge of the ritual, I would probably make us all listen to that song that was popular on the radio a few years back. It was a little bit country, but that is to be forgiven. The chorus said: “someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying.” The story in the song was of a man who learned he had a terminal disease and instead of moping or feeling bad he went sky-diving and bull-riding. When you are aware of your impending death, you treat each day as something precious.

There was an old bluegrass song I remember hearing on the radio one time that talked about a cemetery where the dates listed on people gravestones would span months, not years. The explanation given was not that these graves were for children, rather the dates represented the amount of time these people actually spent fully living – a very small percentage of their actual lives to be counted in months rather than in years. If I were in charge of Lent, we would listen to that song.

And if Bluegrass and Country music are not suited to your taste I suppose – for you – I would be willing instead to offer up the same message through lines from a Mary Oliver poem when she says “I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.” Or I might share a Henry David Thoreau quote: “I wish to learn what life has to teach, and not, when I come to die, discover that I have not lived.” Or, I could simply acquaint you with the life’s work of Rev. Forrest Church.

Unitarian Universalist minister Forrest Church has famously said that death is central to religion. The exact quote is “Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die.” That has been the Forrest Church quote because he not only said it and it preached it for many years – he lived it. “Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die.” Church developed esophageal cancer in 2006. After a successful operation, the cancer returned in the spring of 2008 and he was given months to live. Church delivered his ‘final sermon’ in 2008. He was blessed to offer what he thought to be his final sermon a total of five times as his cancer went into remission. Prior to his death, which did finally arrive in September of 2009, he had arranged to have his final two books published just after his death. One book was on contemporary Universalist theology and the other was titled Love and Death.

“Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die.” This short sentence outlines the human search for meaning. This brief theological summery by Church opens up the whole conversation of why we long to have a life that matters, a life with love. “Knowing we must die, we question what life means,” Church wrote. “Death is not life’s goal, only life’s terminus. The goal is to live in such a way that our lives will prove worth dying for. This is where love comes into the picture. Then one thing that can’t be taken from us, even by death, is the love we give away before we go.”

In Church’s theology, Love is the counterweight to Death. Love is what makes death and life meaningful. Love is also what gives death its sting, for if we did not love it would not hurt so much to lose people in our lives.

There is a Buddhist story I considered using for the children’s story this morning: the Mustard Seed. In the story, a child dies and the mother is greatly distraught. She carries her dead child to her neighbors and to physicians asking for their help. Finally she arrives at the feet of the Buddha and asks for his help. The Buddha says, “I can help you. I will mix a cure for the child. You must fetch me a handful of mustard seed.” The young mother joyfully starts to leave on this errand but the Buddha stops her saying, “The mustard seed most come from a house that has known no death, where no one was lost a child or spouse or parent or dear friend.”

She goes to the first house on the street and asks for mustard-seed. The people in that house, recognizing her, take pity and offer her many handfuls of mustard seed. “Here, take all you need.” But then she is forced to ask, “Has a child or parent or spouse or dear friend died in this family?” They sadly answer her, “Alas we have known death; please do not remind us of our deepest grief.” And so it was as she went through the whole town and through all the villages, she found no other answer. There was no house but that some beloved one has died therein. “How selfish I am in my grief!” the young mother finally cried out in understanding. “Death is common to us all.” She then returned to the Buddha to bury her dead child and find comfort in the Dharma.

It seems to me there are two things here, the task of facing my own death and the task of facing the death of those whom I love. The task of facing my own mortality is a challenge. That task, I think, is to come to a sense of peace within myself about my own death. But as this mustard seed story highlights, the task of facing the mortality of others whom I love is quite a different challenge. That task, I think, is to still seek a sense of peace but only after wrestling with the grief, the loss, and the love.

I stand here in a particular position: I have never lost a close member of my family. Grandparents, yes; all my grandparents have died, a few of them while I have been an adult. But I have not lost a parent or a sibling, a spouse, best friend, or child. So take what I say with that grain of salt. Still I tell you that the task of facing the mortality of those whom we love is not a greater challenge, just a very different one from that of facing our own mortality.

I did have the opportunity as a teenager to face the possibility. My mother has serious scoliosis which required a full spinal fusion in the mid-80’s. As a minister, my mother was perhaps not exactly comfortable with the topic of death but at least willing to be open about the real possibility. She drew up her will, she had power-of-attorney papers ready, her doctors and family all were aware of her “no-extrodinary measures” wishes in case something went wrong during the surgeries. Nothing went wrong. But it was an uncertain and anxious process.

That I had this opportunity to consider the death of a loved one without a loved one actually dying is not so remarkable alone. More remarkable is it that I took the opportunity. Rather than deny the real potential of her death, I considered it – allowed myself to feel what it might feel like. Years later I still remember that I seriously entertained the possibility. And to this day I am aware of how privileged I am and continue to be that this was an intellectual and emotional exercise for me rather than a lived reality.

When we are young it is thankfully uncommon to experience the death of a loved one. With the addition of years, the chances of this particular form of suffer increases steadily. With the addition of years, you are less likely to be able to give your mustard seed away to a bereaved seeker. But then, that really is not the point. The point is not to give mustard seed but to offer comfort and consolation.

All life is suffering and our suffering is due to attachment, says Buddhism. As the story of the mustard seed teaches, there is a way out of suffering. The word “Dukkha” is easily translated as suffering, but it may perhaps be better translated as ‘impermanence.’ It is because of the impermanence that living is precious. It is precisely because living is finite that we value it. Learning to love in the face of impermanence, knowing that in the end there will be suffering is the heart of this small story.

A memorial reading I often think of when preparing a service is titled, “The Cost” by Dorothy Monroe.

Death is not too high a price to pay
for having lived. Mountains never die,
nor do the seas or rocks or endless sky.
Through countless centuries of time, they stay
eternal, deathless. Yet they never live!
If choice there were, I would not hesitate
to choose mortality. Whatever Fate
demanded in return for life I’d give,
for, never to have seen the fertile plains
nor heard the winds nor felt the warm sun on sands
beside the salty sea, nor touched the hands
of those I love – without these, all the gains
of timelessness would not be worth one day
of living and of loving; come what may.

Death is a natural part of life, a part that is filled with sorrow for the loss and anxiety for the unknown of what is next. Sorrow and anxiety are Death’s companions. There is a way to grow less anxious and it is worth pursuing. I can become less anxious about my own death by living the best possible life I can live, by coming to terms with the reality that everything alive in the universe dies eventually.

Death is also filled with sorrow. And there is a way to take the sorrow out of death, but it is not worth pursuing – because the way to remove sorrow from death is to not care. May we never grow insensitive to the pain of another person. May we never consider indifference to be an option over suffering. Every memorial service I have done is concluded with this benediction,

Blessed are those who cherish the sacred memory of those who walk with us no more, having achieved serenity in the knowledge that bereavement comes only where love abides. Out of sorrow shall come understanding; through sorrow you are joined with all that live.

Death is a natural part of life. But until death’s time, life is full of beauty and love and courage. Love is the counterweight to death.

I remember an older lady from the previous congregation I served before coming here. Ilse was dying, she insisted on being home not in a hospital. She had many friends around her, many members of the congregation. She had taught Sunday School for 39 consecutive years and was upset she could not teach during her last year to make it a round 40! During her last weeks she would call and ask me to come visit her, to pray with her and to sing to her.

One of her daughters told me that she roused them all in the middle of the night, waited for those who lived a few minutes away to arrive, and gathered them around her bed. She looked each one in the eye and told them she loved them and said goodbye. She closed her eyes and took a few breaths. Then she opened her eyes again and said, “Damn! I botched it again.” She lived a few more weeks past that. When she did die it was quietly and without fanfare.

Like Forrest Church’s “farewell sermon,” Ilse’s bedside farewell was repeated a few times before it really took. The point for Ilse and for Forrest was to express the inexpressible: something about love and death, perhaps that love is stronger than death. Certainly love is what gives death its sting, but in the end love wins.

You are dust; you are mortal; you will die. But you are now alive and there is courage enough and love enough to make life sweet. Love is the counterweight to death. Dwell on death only long enough to let it go. Then release yourself to lifetime and do your part to fill it with love.

In a world without end,
May it be so.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pledge Drive
Rev Douglas Taylor
3-6-11
[Note: this sermon is largely based on a sermon by Rev. Webster Kitchell Howell called “Money Talks” which can be found in the book The Abundance of our Faith published by Skinner House Books]

My wife said to me “Well, I for one have never heard of that movie and I bet a lot of other people haven’t either.” She and I were laughing together this week about my title for this morning, “How I learned to stop worrying and love the pledge drive.” My wife expressed her opinion that this was perhaps the worst sermon title I had ever dreamed up. And that’s saying something. The movie in question is a 1960’s classic satire by Stanley Kubrick staring Peter Sellers and George C. Scott. Its full title is “Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.”

My title was meant to poke at our annual anxiety about money. Nobody should learn to love war or bombs. And it can feel like no one is ever going to love pledge drives either. But what would it look like for us to really find this annual process to be one of the best pieces of our congregational year? Every year we do this pledge drive, and speak of the great value of our free religious faith and the power of this community and how it is good to support it financially. Over and over we say this each year. I’m looking for new way to say the same old wonderful stuff: that money is an expression of our value.

And yet, every year I stumble through the process. And every year I grow a little anxious trying to think of just the right way to speak of something this important in the life of our congregation. So I thought it might be best to seek advice from a source whose authority on the topic of money is nigh undisputable. I dug a dollar bill out of my wallet and asked if it could join me in the pulpit for a conversation.
(bring a dollar out and place it visibly on the pulpit)

Douglas: “Money I am glad you could spare some time to talk with me this morning”

Money: “Hey, glad to have the opportunity. I get invited into churches and other places of worship a lot, but most of the time I don’t really have a chance to connect with people. I’m kept at arm’s length like a pariah or something.”

Douglas: “Oh! Well, I must admit I was not expecting you to jump right into the heart of the problem. I thought you would start out with a joke or two, like when I thanked you for coming to talk you would say: hey, money talks all the time, it’s just that the most common words it says are ‘good-bye’”

Money: “Yeah, that’s about your stuff. I don’t know those jokes.”

Douglas: “Oh! Ok, well anyway, I’m glad you agreed to speak with me because I have a problem that I think you can shed some light upon.”

Money: “You’ve got a problem alright, but not the one you think you have.”

Douglas: “Excuse me?”

Money: “Oh, I know you are going to ask me about how you can get the people in the congregation here to open up to a more abundant and generous way of giving. Am I right?”

Douglas: “Well, I suppose. I want to ask them to give joyfully and generously to fund some of the bold plans we have, but I also don’t want to stress anyone out or make anyone feel anxious or guilty or shamed.”

Money: “You think your problem is figuring out how to make all these people relax and enjoy the pledge drive with a positive and generous attitude.”

Douglas: “Uh, well … yes.”

Money: “But that’s not your problem.”

Douglas: “It’s not?”

Money: “Nope, not even close.”

Douglas: (pause) “Ok, I’ll bite. What is the problem that you can help me with?”

Money: “For starters, your sermon title.”

Douglas: (Sigh) “It’s a spin on an old movie title, a satire from the 60’s …”

Money: “I know, I heard you mentioning it at the beginning and I gotta say I agree with your wife. I’ve never heard of the movie either – and besides, you say it is satire. Are you really trying to appeal to the better part of people through satire? Really?”

Douglas: “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Money: “The problem you need my help with is that you are very ambivalent about money. You want to know how to speak passionately about giving without sounding greedy – because you are constantly preaching about the evils of greed. The problem is that you are uncomfortable around me.”

Douglas: “This is certainly not the sermon I thought we would be delivering together, but since you brought it up: Yes, I do have some issues with you. Money, you tend to bring out the worst in people. You seem to feed on that spiritual dissatisfaction that gnaws at me, tempting me to think I can use you to become happier or more secure or express my feelings for others. But I know that you can’t bring me true happiness or truly express my feelings for others. So I try to avoid thinking about you: which creates problems with my personal finances. Yet when I do think about you my thoughts tend to be focused on how to get more of you.

You seem to take perfectly normal people capable of generosity and compassion, and by your absence you make us desperate and covetous – or by your presence you make us selfish and retentive. Money, you are at the root of many arguments between loved ones. You hold so much power over us, making us feel vulnerable and defensive. I don’t like the way I feel and act when you are part of the equation.”

Money: “Now do you see what I mean when I said your problem is not your pledge drive?”

Douglas “But the pledge drive is where it shows up. Money, you represent time and energy, of course. That is what we often try to talk about in these pledge drives. But you also represent power and status, and that is a little more uncomfortable for us to talk about. But it’s a trick because to be honest I must admit that being over-focused on money is trouble: the love of money is the root of all evil. And yet, here I am devoting an entire sermon to ask people to give more of it to us.”

Money: “But you’re missing something really important in what you just said. Yes, I represent time and energy. And I won’t deny that you instill in me a certain representation of status and power. But what you’re missing is that I also represent value.”

Douglas: “Well, obviously. The price tag on something is a statement of its value.”

Money: “But the value of an object is not limited to the value indicated on its price tag.”

Douglas: “Fair enough, there is sentimental value that has nothing to do with you, Money.”

Money: “Now consider: you are willing to use me to obtain something of value to you. So I represent power and status, time and energy, and most importantly – value.”

Douglas “You’ve made your point. But how does it apply to me or to our pledge drive.”

Money: “Someone once said, ‘At my best I use my money to communicate to the world my values. At my best I use my money to bear witness to my values.’”

Douglas: “Now that’s nice. I like that, who said that?”

Money: “You did, two years ago when you were telling these fine people that money is a tool of the sacred, that money represents a ‘divine interaction’ of values.”

Douglas: “Oh yeah, I remember that. I was talking about how money originated as a metaphor for divine valuation. Different people used different tangible objects to mark value and this tangible marking was the beginning of money. The really interesting part was that it was rooted in divinity – people understood that it wasn’t just bartering or trading commodities. Money began as a divine mark of value.”

Money: “Keep going, this is good”

Douglas: “Did you know that in Ancient China, they used tool-shaped pieces of bronze to signify value. And on one island in the Pacific (Santa Cruz) they used red feathers, while on another (Yap) they used huge stone disks.”

Money: “That is very interesting”

Douglas “In Nigeria they used copper rings, in Ethiopia they used bars of rock salt, and in Liberia it was pieces of iron wire flattened at each end.”

Money: “Yes I know. It is me you are talking about, after all. And today in this country you use cloth bills, metal coins, but mostly those thin cards of plastic with a magnetic bar. Unfortunately you’ve let me slip from being a deep metaphor of value to a mere representation of payment.”

Douglas: “That right there is the problem. As much as I tell everybody that you are a tool of the sacred, rooted in divine valuation, the reality that every one of us feels on a daily basis is that you are a tool too easily corrupted to cause suffering and injustice.”

Money: “Hey, at least you have free will to choose to use your life and your gifts as you want. I am, as you have pointed out, only a tool at your disposal. It doesn’t really matter how much of me you have, it’s what you do with me that counts. Does this help you know what to say to the people here this morning?”

Douglas: “Hmmm. I suppose it does. I still want to ask us to be generous.”

Money: “But why do you want them to give me to the congregation?”

Douglas: “Well, generosity carries its own reward. When we don’t let our anxiety and ambivalence about money determine what we do with it then the benefits are manifold! When we are generous, we are able to give with a sense that our gift creates not only tangible results but also intangible connections. Generosity flows from a sense of caring for that which we all hold in common – it is an act of compassion and gratitude.”

Money: “OK, but one thing I can tell you from my experience is that people are not often just randomly generous. People make choices about how they are going to be generous. And remember, if we’re trying to free me from the basest of claims, people should make choices based on their values. Right?

Douglas: “Right. Ok, money. People should be generous specifically in the direction of this congregation precisely because of their personal values and the way this congregation embodies those values in the world. Our congregation stands open to the promptings of the spirit, that ‘the bonds of love keep open he gates of freedom.’ People are generous because we are creating a community of acceptance and encouragement, of hope and justice.”

Money: “Right on!”

Douglas: “People here are generous because we create a community that honors the worth of every person; that stands up to society and says: Here we create an open and accepting community where theists and atheists, pagans and heretics celebrate together each Sunday.”

Money: “Preach it!”

Douglas: “Here we create a community where gay and lesbian, straight and bisexual, transgender and question people are all welcome and offered a blessing.”

Money: “Amen!”

Douglas: “Here we create a community where people work together to build a better world, challenging injustice and encouraging love and compassion in all things. Bound by words like “Interconnectedness, Transcendence, and Compassion,” we gather together to create the beloved community. And the pledges we make, the promises we offer of our money, serve to make plain the value we hold for the creation of such a community.”

Money: “Can I get a Hallelujah!”

Douglas: “Money, thank you for joining me here this morning. You helped me sort a few things out in my heart.”

Money: “I have only one piece of advice to offer that you didn’t figure out for yourself.”

Douglas: “Oh, what’s that?”

Money: “The best thing for creating generosity is gratitude. So, thank them. Thank them for letting me be sacred again. Thank them for using me to create the world they dream of. Thank them for using me to tell the world of their values.”

(folds money back into wallet)

Good people, I want you to know that the gift you offer is appreciated and is used to create a particular kind of religious community. Thank you for the promise you make to use your financial resources in this way. Thank you for helping to create a community that is open and welcoming to the faithful heretics and the religiously scorned, for the seekers and skeptics in need of a home. Thank you for making your money into a tool of the sacred, into a statement of our values. Thank you. The world needs faith communities such as ours. Thank you.

In a world without end
May it be so.

Whose Are We?
2-20-11
Rev. Douglas Taylor

An elderly gentleman ran a curio and antique shop in a large city. A tourist once stepped in and got to talking with the old man about the many things that were stacked in that shop.
Said the tourist, “What would say is the strangest, the most mysterious thing you have here?”
The old man surveyed the hundreds of curios, antiques, stuffed animals, shrunken heads, mounted fish and birds, archeological finds, deer heads – then turned to the tourist and said, “The strangest thing in this shop is unquestionably myself.”
(DeMello, Anthony; Taking Flight, p131)

I don’t know if any of the rest of you resonate with such a story, but I certainly feel myself to be quite a mysterious curio at times – a mystery box of the same proportions as any great theological or philosophical mystery of life. It is said that “Who am I?” is the first of the great questions people ask themselves in the search for meaning. “Who am I?”

There is an activity I have done a few times at our annual 24-hour Spirituality Retreat held each spring. It involves pairing people up and having them take turns asking the question “Who are you?” We take turns, for five minutes my only task is to ask that question and wait for my partner to respond. I then say something like “Namaste” and ask again, “Who are you?” For five minutes. And then we switch roles and my partner asks the question of me again and again for five minutes. The pacing is determined by the answerer; if I run out of answers we sit in amiable silence until the five minutes is up. This activity often leads people into a deeper appreciation of their identity, but is not always easy.

In Anthony DeMello’s book Taking Flight, there is this story:

A woman in a coma was dying. She suddenly had a feeling that she was taken up to heaven and stood before the Judgment Seat.
“Who are you?” a Voice said to her.
“I am the wife of the mayor,” she replied.
“I did not ask whose wife you are but who you are.”
“I’m the mother of four children.”
“I did not ask whose mother you are, but who you are.”
“I’m a school teacher.”
“I did not ask what your profession is but who you are.”
And so it went. No matter what she replied, she did not seem to give a satisfactory answer to the question, “Who are you?”
“I am a Christian.”
“I did not ask what your religion is but who you are.”
“I’m the one who went to church every day and always helped the poor and needy.”
“I did not ask what you did but who you are.”
She evidently failed the examination, for she was sent back to earth. When she recovered from her illness, she was determined to find out who she was. And that made all the difference.
(DeMello, Anthony; Taking Flight, p140)

But I don’t think this is necessarily an inaccurate or wrong way to answer the question. I understand the point of this small story – who we are in not what we do or who we spend our time with, there is something deeper – yet I still protest. Who I am is certainly caught up in my vocation, my faith, my relationships, and my behavior. Who am I? I am Douglas Taylor. But what does it mean to be Douglas Taylor? I am father, husband, minister, friend. The question “Who am I?” easily moves into the relational answers. I am connected to others, and who they are to me is part of who I am.

Another frame for this question is, “Whose am I?” This tugs at a slightly different set of answers. Instead of searching for individual identity, it seeks to uncover who has a piece of me. Whose am I? Who needs me, who loves me? To whom do I belong? To whom am I accountable? To whom do I answer? Who or what lays claim to my heart and my life?

This, now, is the question that I was asked to ponder at a minister’s training session I attended this past summer. The Unitarian Universalist Minister’s Association hosted a theological conversation and invited about fifty ministers to be trained in leading this conversation among our colleagues and our congregations.

At the beginning of our time, one colleague (Rev. Sarah Lammert) shared this story.

In Seattle the interfaith clergy organization has a tradition of asking senior colleagues to share their life odysseys. On this particular occasion, a Roman Catholic priest was telling his story, and he said that his life had been in large measure a failure. He remembered the heady days of Vatican II and how hopeful he and his generation of liberal priests had been that real change was coming to the church he loved so dearly. And yet: these many years later he felt that the church had if anything become hardened and deeply conservative, and his dreams had not been realized.
Now this priest was someone who was valued among his interfaith colleagues, and they were somewhat hurt and stunned by his revelation. And yet; one colleague noted, despite the severity of his words, his demeanor seemed quite peaceful and content. “How can you claim that your life was a failure, and yet appear so calm and serene?” “I know whose I am,” replied the priest. “I know whose I am.”
(from Rev. Sarah Lammert’s Whose Are We? Sermon, Feb 1, 2009)

My colleague then went on to describe how this question “Whose am I?” later became a spontaneous focus for a group of Unitarian Universalist clergy. “Whose am I?” As she and her colleagues tentatively approached the topic she heard herself saying “It is easy to lose sight of the fact that we belong to something beyond ourselves.” She heard someone else offer, “The language that we use to express some of the experiences and concepts can be frightening, trigger baggage, invoke reactivity in our congregations.” And yet another said, “We tend to have a spiritual don’t ask don’t tell policy.” (ibid)

Following that opening in which our colleague shared the story of the priest and some of the responses that she and her colleagues experienced, the trainers began the workshop. We broke into pairs and then following the format of the exercise I described earlier, we each had five minutes to answer the question “Whose are you?” We were told the pattern would be this: Person A would ask “Whose are you?” I, as person B, would respond to the question. My partner, person A, would say “God be merciful,” and then repeat her question, “Whose are you?”

Interestingly, when we did this at the training last summer, my partner and I did not bat an eye at the language of the response. God be merciful. We were both theists and were willing to work within the instructions as given and just role with it. Later in the fall when I lead my district colleagues through the workshop there was a small uprising. I stopped the workshop and we spent half an hour sorting out what to do with that phrase “God be merciful.”

As it turned out, the majority of the reaction for my colleagues was not the word God. As one of my atheist colleagues said, “I can translate that in my head. I understand the concept of metaphor and symbol enough to be ok with using that word. It’s ‘merciful’ I’m having trouble with. As if there is something wrong with my answers for which God needs to be merciful.”

So we talked that through and we agreed that different responses, such as “Namaste” would serve as well. And we left it as “ask your partner what response he or she would like to hear,” and we jumped in. And that is just part one of six in the workshop. One interesting thing we discovered is the nuance heard in the phrase “God be merciful” by those who went ahead and used that response.

My colleague asked me “Whose are you?” I responded saying, “I am God’s.” And she said, “God be merciful. Whose are you?”
I belong to the universe. God be merciful.
I am Love’s. God be merciful.
I am my own. God be merciful.
I belong to my family. God be merciful.
I am my mother’s son. God be merciful.
I belong to my mother’s people. God be merciful.
My father has a corner of me, too. God be merciful.
I am of the earth, with a special call from the herons, the cattails,
and the rivers. God be merciful.
I am wholly of our Unitarian Universalist faith. God be merciful.
I serve and am called by this congregation. God be merciful.
I belong to my colleagues. God be merciful.
I am my children’s. God be merciful.
My brokenness calls me. God be merciful.
As does my sorrow and that certain darkness within. God be merciful.
But also my light. God be merciful.
I am called by joy. God be merciful.
I belong to life. God be merciful.
I serve God. God be merciful.

Step one of the workshop took me to a very deep place. We were then brought through further workshops about our calling and about the covenants we hold. Direction of the program is to move from “whose and I?” to “whose are we?” and it was not an easy shift. It is not an easy shift from the individual to the community because we as Unitarian Universalists do not have a shared doctrine of God. I can say “I am God’s,” no problem. But the words would not so easily fall from our lips to say we are God’s. It is not that we do not speak about our relationship with God here. It is not that God is not the answer to the question for some of us. Rather it is because we hold a commitment that belief cannot be coerced. It is because we hold a commitment that each person shall engage in the free and responsible search for truth and meaning. It is because we hold a commitment that every person is unique and will thus have their own experience of life and love and the holy. The reason it is difficult to shift from “whose am I?” to “whose are we?” is because we as Unitarian Universalists hold a commitment that every person will necessarily have their own theology.

My answers will not be your answers and that is part of the grace and beauty of our faith. We are theists and atheists and agnostics together in one room. We gather as seekers with ties to Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, various forms of Paganism and Native traditions. We gather as skeptics and mystics, humanists and transcendentalists. What we hold in common is our covenant to walk together in the ways of truth and service, honoring both the individual worth of each among us and the ways we are interconnected in living on earth. Thus we do not necessarily have a common name for or even a common understanding of the holy, of the ultimate reality, of God, of the creative and transformative power in life. Thus we do not have a common answer in the obvious sense to the question “Whose are we?”

The obvious answer to this question – the answer we all implicitly knew to be the answer when the priest said it in that opening story told by my colleague – is God. “I know whose I am,” the priest said. We know who he meant: God. But that answer, even layered with the nuance of metaphor and symbol, is not wide enough to serve for the whole of us. I suspect we will have multiple answers in the end.

The workshop does not offer an answer during the last session. The program created by the Unitarian Universalist Minister’s Association is not driving toward a particular end point. Instead it is after the conversation. The point is to wrestle with the question. And I suspect we will have multiple answers. But I shall not leave you with only the vague assurance that it is complicated. Allow me to wade into this question and dare an answer or two.

Whose are we? Who needs us? To whom do we belong? To whom are we accountable? Framing the question in a few different ways opens up the nuances. We belong to all those who have gone before us and all who will follow after as the community of Unitarian Universalists in this town. We belong to each other and we are needed by those not yet here. We belong to the earth and yes we belong to God and we belong to love. This matters because we are held accountable by love and by God and by the earth and by each other.

May God be merciful, because there are real consequences to such connections; consequences concerning what we are to do as a community and how we are to be in this world. We are not only our own. We are not isolated beings, but connected. There are multiple answers but the demand and the consequences are as real as if we were the sort of congregation that produced one answer only. So let us seek to uncover whose we are together. And may God be merciful.

In a world without end
May it be so.