Taryn Strauss

Director of Religious Education

REflections

June 2010

Our RE program offers a unique experience to children. Here, they are free from assessments and grades. They are free to explore the mysteries of life and celebrate them with a sense of awe and wonder for the entire world and their place in it. At the end of the year, we reflect on not only what they’ve learned, but how the connection to their faith has deepened. This past Sunday at church, we all went on a bug hunt. We got on our hands and knees, dug into the earth, and, with magnifying glasses in hand, transformed ourselves into explorers. I asked the children if they could remember our seventh UU principle. Almost all the hands of our Spirit Play students went up. “We honor the web of life,” they replied.

They knew about the web, how when someone disrupts a single strand, the entire web feels it. We learned to celebrate the creepy crawlies, not to squish them or consider them a nuisance in our path. Monks of the Indian Jaina religion tread lightly on foot, and always look before sitting, so they may live in complete avoidance of destruction to any living being. This is how honoring the Earth becomes a spiritual practice, even a rigorous one demanding constant diligence. Though they may not be training to become Jain mendicants, our children connect their love of nature to their Unitarian Universalist faith.

I have been overcome with horror and sorrow in the wake of the Gulf of Mexico’s oil spill. Deep in my being, I have feared a strand in the web of life has been slashed. I have searched for a way to improve humanity’s karma, or at least my own. I’ve bought a bus pass. I’ve gotten my bike out of storage. I’ve planted a garden, finally.

This summer, when you are out in nature with your family, exploring and enjoying the earth’s bounty, reflect on how you may honor the interconnected web of all life. Your children will amaze you with the strength of their faith in this web. Let us test our ability to tread lightly upon our earth, honoring its gifts, and celebrating the sacred web of life. This summer, when I’m lying in the hot sand, or dashing into the wide ocean with my nieces and nephews, I’ll say a prayer of gratitude, nourishing my spirit before the return home.