May 9, 2010
Stories That Could Be True : Anniversary Sunday
The Rev. Dr. Maureen Killoran, Minister Emerita
Unitarian Universalist Church of Asheville
Asheville, NC
Reading
by Connie Goodbread, Lifespan Religious Education Consultant, Florida Unitarian Universalist District
I really like to remember that we come into the middle of a story. We did not write the beginning and we will not write the end. We can only write or envision a brighter future if we truly understand our past. It is our foundation. Things were put into motion long before we came on the scene. We bump into these things and don't understand what we have run into. Some of our foundation is strong and healthy, made of values that we want to uphold. Some of the foundation is sad, hurtful pitted and mistaken. But all together the story makes meaning. Without the bad, the good does not exist. If we can remember that we are the children of the Puritans, when we run into our strong mistrust of power and authority we can put some perspective on it. If we can remember that we are congregations of mostly comer inners not lifelong Unitarian Universalists, we then begin to understand that we don't know our story. After this realization we can learn as much as possible and then, with humor, begin to take our story seriously. Having this deeper understanding of who we were helps us to know who we are. We can be better stewards for our portion of the story, the here and now.
Sermon
The words of poet William Stafford:
There’s a thread that you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread. . .
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you can do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
That’s what the poet says – but, you know it, we drop threads all the time. You set your glasses down, and they disappear. You completely forget a meeting. Sometimes we get careless and let old friends drift away. "Tragedies happen,” says Stafford, “people get hurt/ or die; and you suffer and get old.”
This is part of being human. It’s part of being human together --- whether in a family . . . in a community . . . in a church.
You’ve been there. Times when things are going great. Ideas are popping, plans jelling, volunteers clicking into place . . . and then . . . something . . . happens. Key leaders move away, agreements disintegrate, the economy tanks. “Nothing you can do can stop time’s unfolding,” says the poet – but when you let your present get saturated with problems, it’s all too easy to lose the thread of your hopes, your vision, your dreams.
Those are the times when I’d like to be able to point to the heavens and (snap!) have a fairy godmother descend. Or a superhero, or even Tinker Bell. Any old savior swooping down to save the day, to make the problem-saturated story disappear. Alas, that kind of deus ex machina ain’t gonna happen. We’re working in real time and, when it comes to the problems of daily life, Annie Dillard was spot on when she said, “There is no one but us . . . there never has been.”
So, where are we supposed to go . . . how do we get the strength we need? Listen again to religious educator Connie Goodbread when she said,“We come into the middle of a story. We did not write the beginning and we will not write the end.” That’s the power of stories – the magic, if you will -- they help us grasp the threads of connection between “once upon a time” and today.
When we know who we were, it’s possible to know who we are. And when we know who we ARE, then we can craft a realistic vision for the future we choose to achieve.
I was talking the other day with Laurel Amabile, Director of the Annual Program Fund for the Unitarian Universalist Association and former Director of Religious Education for this congregation – we got to plucking memories from each other’s brains, about the time we worked together. It was perhaps a little evil of me, but I couldn’t resist. “Tell me, Laurel,” I asked, “when you’re thinking about Asheville, what comes to mind when I say “orange?” Laurel didn’t blink – one word – “CARPET!” Meaning, of course, the sanctuary carpet of sainted memory, the orange wool carpet bought by Una Schmidt – a carpet of such high quality that it almost refused to die.
We talked about “orange,” and then it was Laurel’s turn: “Remember the paper chains?” She reminded me of the tradition Hope Larson started at the Holiday Decorating party. By the time we’d been at it for a few years, we had yards and yards – probably a quarter mile – of paper chains draped on the rafters in Sandburg Hall throughout the holidays. And then there were the snowflakes on the windows, thanks to architect Scott Conklin who taught even the most fumble-fingered to make beautiful cutouts from ordinary office paper. Those were fun times!
You’ve had losses, too . . . I paid my respects in the memorial garden this morning. All those names . . . faces . . .. . . people whose lives are essential parts of your thread. Stories to be recalled while you still have people here to tell them. It was good to see, for example, the name of Augusta Young. She was so influential in the genesis of that garden. I’m unlikely to forget the day Gus stormed into Thomas Jefferson House. Many of you didn’t know Gus. She was woman to be reckoned with at the best of times, and this day she brought along a sledge hammer. I need a bigger classroom, she said! And, by God, Gus was ready to knock out a wall. . . never mind that it turned out to be a bearing wall. . . she was up for do-it-herself renovations then and there!
I remember Ros and Helen Guernsey, and Helen Reed – so many others -- and my dad’s ashes are in the garden too. . . So many memories, each irreplaceable. Each a part of who this congregation IS. Whether or not you ever met the people whose names are on those plaques, my friends, your memorial garden is a sacred place. William Stafford again:
There's a thread that you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
Anybody remember the first time Asheville hosted the State-wide Gay Pride March? In the face of organized outrage from the religious right, some of the clergy got together and said, we’ve got to be out there. We’ve got to show the community that religion can be grounded in love, rather than hate.
Now, this church hadn’t yet voted to become a Welcoming Congregation. There was some heat around whether the church should officially be involved. During the service the Sunday prior to the event, I told the congregation that I would be marching, and I invited people to join me, to carry the congregation's banner. The issue, I said, was civil rights, and it was integral to the core narrative of our faith. I said that this march called us to bear witness to the inherent worth and dignity of every human being.
Well, I didn’t make it to the door before he was (I’m going to call it) in my face, a retired lawyer and highly respected congregant. "I don't agree with the gay lifestyle," proclaimed Hi Cody -- and those of you who knew Hi may agree that he did not take his opinions lightly. He continued. “But I never thought about it in terms of civil liberties. My wife Polly and I have supported civil rights all our lives. We will march with you for gay rights.”
And so they did.
On the day of the march, over 40 UUs joined hundreds of gay men, lesbians, families, friends to witness for gay rights. The shouts of thousands of angry protestors damned us all to hell, but Hi and Polly held this congregation’s banner and walked proud. “New occasions teach new duties.” We sometimes sing this in one of our hymns – and that’s part of what our faith does, holds us accountable not just once, but ever renewed.
And so this morning I honor Hi and Polly Cody. People of immense integrity. People for whom their religious faith and their commitment to justice were intertwined. They knew that when you believe something, it ought to show -- even if it pushes your edges, even if it makes you uncomfortable along the way.
And that’s what it’s about, one of the central threads in the fabric of this church – and of our free faith – the ETHIC OF JUSTICE – stretching yourself to action, in the name of what you believe.
Laurel reminded me also of our partnership with Helpmate, the shelter for survivors of domestic violence. More than two years of major partnership and thousands of volunteer hours . . . UUs refurbished the house . . . read to kids . . . built fences . . . gardened . . . threw holiday parties . . . and of course, donated hundreds and hundreds of teddy bears.
And all because we challenged the myth that y’all would never be able to agree on a congregation-wide project for justice. Wherever there are three UUs there are half a dozen opinions, right? Heck no, we could never agree.
Well, it took nearly two years of discernment. Got everybody involved from RE kids to octogenarians . . . considering the options, exploring the links between your values and what it was possible to do. Two years is a long time for decision-making -- and I can still hear my dear friend Ellsworth Smith’s frustration: “Let’s just DO it!” he must have begged a hundred times.
But finally, and for the first time in this congregation’s history, you chose by consensus a church-wide project for social action. And then for two more years, your commitment made a significant difference for Helpmate, for the people they serve – and you immeasurably raised the community’s awareness of domestic violence and the related needs. That, my friends, is the Ethic of Justice at play.
Then there was that enormous truck full of supplies and generators you sent in response to Hurricane Andrew ‘way back in 1992. There’s the interfaith service for World AIDS Day that happens every year – and it started right here in this sanctuary in 1993. How many families are living in Habitat Houses you’ve built? How many cans of soup have you given to Loving Food Resources over 15 years? How about the impact of being a Green Sanctuary today?
The ETHIC OF JUSTICE is a central thread in the fiber of this church’s being. To be all you can be, to become all this congregation has the potential to become. . . I entreat you – do not -- ever -- let go of this thread.
And still, as they say, there’s more!
UUs often find common ground in the passage from the New Testament where it says, “Faith without works is dead.” And yet as far back as 1898 the monthly bulletin of the American Unitarian Association argued that faith without works may be dead, but works without faith are ultimately barren.
Doing good, acting for justice, letting our values show . . . for these to be effective, for them to make any difference in the long run, our works need grounding in the community of memory and hope. Because an Ethic of Justice is only as strong as the Ethic of Caring in which it is enfolded.
Back in 1991, this church had maybe 350 members. Over the next decade, we grew. And grew – and grew -- just as you are still growing today. It would have been so easy to hone in on "institutional maintenance." It would have been even easier to go corporate and let the rest slide -- it happens all the time to churches your size. But you didn’t then and you haven’t now, because part of who this congregation IS, part of your BEING is that ETHIC OF CARING.
We used to have a mantra that "size is no barrier to being a caring community.” Pastoral visitors, care rings – we were only half joking when we bragged that we could get chicken soup delivered to anyone who needed it in about half a day.
Some of you may recall the time Murray Asch drew on Scripture to describe how this congregation welcomed him: "I was a stranger,” he said as he lit the chalice “I was a stranger and you took me in.” “I was sick, and you took care of me." That’s the ETHIC OF CARING – reaching out to one another, yes, and also letting people reach in. Behaving as if even the strongest among us wear invisible tags that read, “Caution, Human Being. Handle with Care.” That’s where the Ethic of Caring shows up most clearly: how you treat one another in the tough and tender places of every day.
British activist Dr. Sheila Cassidy survived torture during the Pinochet regime in Chile. While struggling to incorporate her experience, Dr. Cassidy wrote:
The world is not divided into the strong who care and the weak who are cared for. We must each care and be cared for, not just because it is good for us, but because it is the way things are.
This, my friends, is the soul work that builds strength and deepens spirit. This is the work that generates the hope we and the world so desperately need.
Another place the ETHIC OF CARING plays out is in the ways this church nurtures your gifts and helps you to grow. I know one lay leader here who swore she was too scared ever to speak in public, and then she braved a reading in the service, and soon she gave a “This I Believe” – and before I knew it, she was chairing a committee . . . and she took off from there.
Asheville is not alone in reaping leadership benefits of men and women who took their first steps in this church. I quote from a letter I received from the current president of the 600+ member Eno River UU Fellowship in Durham:
I don’t think the reason I am so involved in . . . my current congregation is [because] I was raised UU. Many of my peers were raised UU and yet are not involved in congregations today. . . I attribute my current level of involvement to the fact that during my formative teen years there were opportunities afforded me within my congregation to develop my leadership skills. My Religious Education classes included a Toastmaster public speaking course and a two-year leadership training program. But even more importantly, adults within the congregation reached out to me, trusted me, and invited me to participate in leadership roles within the church.
Signed, Christine Amabile.
Some of you will remember Christine – she grew up in this congregation – little girl making cookies to youth leader in YRUU, to young adult member of the worship committee. She is now a teacher in the public school system, and a highly effective UU lay leader. You can be proud of your role in Christine’s growth – proud of the environment of nurture that allowed this growth to take place.
This too, is the Ethic of Caring and -- NEWS FLASH – this is why this church grew.
The ETHIC OF CARING and its twin thread, the ETHIC OF JUSTICE– these are why you continue to grow today.
I don't have to tell you -- or maybe I do? – we know these are hard times. The world is desperate for communities of courage, people who aren’t afraid to let their values show. The world is starving for communities of hope, where nurture is trustworthy and love is real.
And here we have the Unitarian Universalist Church of Asheville.
All grown up and 60 years old this year.
Your past is a library of courage and caring.
Your present is a success story in the making.
With your twin ethics of justice and caring in hand,
tomorrow’s stories are almost -- but not quite -- begun.
The poet was right -- Nothing you can do can stop time's unfolding. But I beg you – I beg you, for the healing of our world and for this congregation’s soul, Don't ever let go of these threads.
Blessed be.