Thursday, June 13, 2013

Living with Your Whole Heart

This sermon was delivered on March 10, 2013 at the Unitarian Society of Germantown.

We learn from the painful experiences in life to avoid emotional hurt and shame. We learn to protect ourselves by remaining closed to sharing the whole of our selves with others. But, what if vulnerability is a key to unlocking the fullness of life? How do we find the courage to live with our whole heart?

Listen to a podcast of this sermon.

Readings


from "The Man in the Arena," Theodore Roosevelt 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly…"

a selection from "Courage," Anne Sexton

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It may surprise some of you that I was an extremely shy child.

When we were younger, my brothers and I would visit my mother’s office in downtown Chicago. And, as we walked around saying hello to her co-workers, I would hide shyly behind her legs. Afraid to be seen or to speak to anyone. When I was a bit older, friends would call me up on the phone, and I was so shy, I’d refuse to answer.

Well, I’ve changed quite a bit since then. But the same fundamental fear still presents itself at times. The fear of being totally and completely seen. Totally and completely known by others.


Brené Brown is a researcher and professor of social work who has become a leading expert on vulnerability, courage, and shame.

In 2010, she appeared before an audience of 500 people in Houston, Texas and delivered a 20 minute talk entitled “the power of vulnerability.” The talk was video recorded and put on the web. That online video has now been viewed close to 7 million times.

Who would have thought vulnerability would be such a popular topic?

Brown’s years of research led her to this overarching claim: vulnerability is at the core of whole hearted living.

The “whole hearted” as Brown describes them are those who live with a sense of worthiness and who know love and belonging.

Although Brown’s research is done within an entirely secular context, I believe that it is precisely this - this “Whole hearted living” – that is our primary religious and spiritual endeavor.

Actually, I wasn’t all too surprised to learn that Brown herself is a religious person. And her description for these people she found in her research who live from a place of love and belonging, this phrase “whole hearted,” comes from a line in a prayer said every Sunday in the Episcopal church service she attends.

Whole hearted living is a spiritual endeavor that leads us to connection.

And vulnerability is at the core.

As an academic researcher, Brown has a particular definition of vulnerability. One that I believe is helpful for us as spiritual seekers.

Brown describes vulnerability as uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.

In her research, when she asked people to finish the sentence: Vulnerability is___. These were some of the responses:

Asking for help
Falling in love
Admitting I’m afraid
Helping my 37-yr-old wife with Stage 4 breast cancer make decisions about her will
Reaching out to my son who is going through a difficult divorce
Getting fired
Laying off employees
Trying something new

In her poem, Anne Sexton provides these examples of vulnerability:

the child’s first step, as awesome as an earthquake.
the first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
enduring a great despair,
facing old age and its natural conclusion.

What these examples show us is that to live is to be vulnerable.
Vulnerability is right there in the ordinariness of life.

Often, vulnerability is equated with weakness. But, it is far from it.

In fact, we often admire vulnerability in others. The way we see others being courageously honest and authentic. We name it as courage in others but a sign of inadequacy or weakness in ourselves.

Yes, it is uncomfortable. And it can lead us into difficult conversations we may rather not have.

Some of you here may end up taking a course being offered here at USG called Having Your Voice to the End of Your Life. Most of the class focuses on having discussions about one’s end of life decisions – decisions about the medical treatment you may or may not want at your time of death. I can hardly imagine conversations that require more vulnerability than these. Uncomfortable, yes. Weakness, no.

For many, many years, people of this congregation have engaged with each other in discussions about racism, oppression, and multi-culturalism. Just last we week we had a town hall gathering to focus in on these issues. And, I will dare say that if there isn’t discomfort in these conversations, then we’re probably not being vulnerable enough. When issues of privilege and marginalization are being talked about, shame inevitably surfaces. And we want to run from that as fast as we can.

Vulnerability is uncomfortable and risky for sure. And because of this it also necessitates being in relationships of trust and respect. We try to cultivate those here at USG and I hope that you all feel that you have those people in your lives with whom you feel safe being seen and know.

And, if vulnerability is not weakness, it is also not being unsafe. I want to be clear that in no way am I advocating for any of us to make ourselves vulnerable to unsafe situations. To physical or emotional harm or abuse. Protecting ourselves from those who might harm us in those ways is absolutely necessary.

I am, however, suggesting that we see the entirety of our lives as a precious journey of vulnerability. No matter our age, our race, our economic situation, we are all on this journey. And we can practice the art of living vulnerably and courageously with greater intention and thoughtfulness.

One of the reasons I think BrenĂ© Brown’s video and now follow-up book have become so popular is that embracing vulnerability is a provocative counter-cultural message.

It is a far more common practice to push away vulnerability than it is to allow it into our lives.

The broader culture in which we live tells us that vulnerability is not something to strive for. In fact, we should avoid it at all costs.

In the movie, Up in the Air, George Clooney plays the role of Ryan Bingham, a successful business executive whose primary role can be described as “hire-to-fire.” He criss-crosses the country by plane, living out of hotel rooms, shows up at various companies, and orchestrates massive lay-offs. He meets one by one with dozens of people at any given company to inform them they’ve been “let go.” In the movie, his boss hires a young woman, Natalie Keener, a recent college graduate, who comes up with a way to cut costs and revolutionize their line of work using technology.

In one poignant scene, Ryan and Natalie arrive in Detroit. They enter the conference room of the company which will serve as their home base for the day. Sitting on the table is a computer screen. Their boss is on the screen, sitting at his desk in Omaha. He informs Natalie that she will take the reins to test out her revolutionary new system. And suddenly before her is an image of a middle-aged man sitting at a table peering at the computer screen with a bewildered look. She calls his name to get his attention and mechanically begins her script. She informs him his position is no longer available. He raises his voice in anger and they realize he is but 10 feet away sitting in a room on the other side of the wall directly in front of them. He begins to sob and looks away completely distraught. Natalie has to say his name several times before he finally gets up to leave. And, looking a bit shaken themselves, Natalie and Ryan watch through a glass wall as the man walks past the room they’ve been sitting in.

Sadly, this movie scene is all too realistic.

It depicts our cultural aversion to opening ourselves up emotionally. It depicts our desire to control and predict.

As the movie, Up in the Air shows, this particular tactic is especially common with large companies.

But, we are not immune to this kind of vulnerability avoidance ourselves.

Have you ever made an off-handed and hurtful remark to someone and then simply pretended it made no impact on them?
Or, have you ever focused on performing so well at your job or on an exam that you minimize the risk of failure?
Or, do you plan your day, your week, your month, your year to eliminate uncertainty about the future?
Or, have you ever gone shopping as a balm for receiving some bit of disappointing news?

I confess I have done all of these things.

Pretending.
Perfecting.
Making the uncertain certain.
Numbing.

All of these strategies are meant to push away uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.

Another reason I think Brown’s talk has become so popular is that we’re waking up to an unwillingness to live from a place of fear. Many of us are drawn to communities like this one here at the Unitarian Society of Germantown because we know a fuller life is possible. A life not based in notions of scarcity, unworthiness, or fear but in gratitude, wholeness, and courage.

It is right here in our religious community that we can practice this way of being together.

One of the most powerful points I think Brown makes in her work is that we cannot selectively numb our emotions.

If we are trying to shield ourselves from fear, shame, grief, sadness, and disappointment, we also cut ourselves off from possibilities to experience love, belonging, and joy.

Because while vulnerability can expose us to the negativity of fear and disappointment, it is also the birthplace of connection and joy.

One of the greatest examples of this in my own life has been my search for religious community. Many of you know that I was raised Roman Catholic. And, I stopped identifying with that tradition in college. 
Well, I knew I had a longing to be in some kind of religious community and I spent a number of years searching, going to various church services. And each time that I showed up on the steps of a new and different church was a moment of vulnerability. Of uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.
Not knowing whether I would feel like I belonged, or whether I’d find the kind of spiritual wholeness I was looking for.

And my journey as a Unitarian Universalist still feels fraught with this uncertainty. With the question – can I be all of who I am here? can I be fully seen and known here?

One of my most vulnerable moments as a Unitarian Universalist happened this past summer at our denominational Justice General Assembly in Phoenix. The weeklong General Assembly closed with an action of witness at Tent City, an outdoor prison known for its inhumane conditions. I had to catch a flight that evening and was extremely disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to participate. But they had set up a room at the convention center for those of us who couldn’t go to Tent City to gather and hold a space of witness of our own. And the week had been one of those rare occasions when I felt like I had actually found my way in this spiritual seeking. In this room, we mostly sang together. And as we sang I felt as if each person present was somehow peering right into me. Right into my soul. And with tears streaming down my face, I joined my voice with others:

Oh, we give thanks, for this precious day, for all gathered here, and those far away, for this time we share, with love and care, oh, we give thanks for this precious day.

Gratitude.
Joy.
Hope.
This is vulnerability.

Attending to it takes courage.
The courage to tell the story of who we are with our whole hearts.
To admit what we dream for and what we need.
To risk failure.
To sit with discomfort.
The courage to just show up and to be fully engaged in the living of our lives.


Brené Brown says that when she realized vulnerability was at the core of whole hearted living, she was in for a fight. Vulnerability pushed, she says, I pushed back. I lost the fight but probably won my life back.

May we with courage grab a hold of life and never let it go.

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Benediction


For all who embrace life
May life return your affection
May you shine your light out into the world with courage
The whole of life awaits us.
Blessed be.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Other "U"


Sermon delivered February 17, 2013 at Unitarian Society of Germantown.

“Give them not Hell, but hope and courage.” Universalist John Murray’s famous words encapsulate the essential message of early Universalism, and Universalists have continued to this day to proclaim a belief in a God of limitless love. How does the “good news” of Universalism inform the living of our Unitarian Universalist faith in our times?



Readings
from Clarence R. Skinner
“The old ideas of a God who created a spiritual aristocracy, who maintained partiality, whose sympathies were not as wide as the whole of humanity, are patently inadequate to meet the new needs…The Universalist idea of God is that of a universal, impartial, immanent spirit whose nature is love.”

from feminist theologian Carter Heyward
“We touch this strength, our power, who we are in the world, when we are most fully in touch with one another and with the world. There is no doubt in my mind that, in so doing, we are participants in ongoing incarnation, bringing god to life in the world.
For god is nothing other than the eternally creative source of our relational power, our common strength, a god whose movement is to empower, bringing us into our own together, a god whose name in history is love—provided we mean by ‘love’ not just simply a sentiment or unfocused feeling but rather that which is just, mutually empowering, and co-creative.”

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This month our spiritual theme is God. Not a small topic to be taking on. I wonder whether it’s strategic or merely coincidental that this theme falls on the shortest month of the year.

No, the theme of God is not a small one. Volumes have been written about God and the debate over the existence of God will probably never die out.

Our religious tradition provides us with many sources to draw from in reflecting on this topic: direct experience, words and deeds of prophetic people, wisdom from the world’s religions.

And, two obvious sources are found in our name – Unitarian Universalism.

Thomas Starr King was famous for his bridging of these two wings of our merged faith. And he is claimed to have contributed to an often-quoted aphorism: Universalists believed God was too good to damn them forever, and Unitarians believed they were too good to be damned.

Other such statements exist:
Unitarians use their heads, Universalists use their hearts.
Unitarianism was for the elites, and Universalism for the populists and the downtrodden.

And, as with most things, the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.

Universalism, or the other “U,” is a part of our religious history and legacy not often looked into or probed for the religious truths it might hold that are relevant to us in our time.

So today I want to explore with you how this part of our tradition and its beliefs about God can make a difference in how we live now.

At the time of its emergence in the United States over two hundred years ago, the main theological claim of Universalism was this: all will be saved through God’s everlasting love.

This may sound obvious, or simply irrelevant, to our ears today, but at the time, and still to some conservative religious communities, this claim was quite revolutionary.

Many early Universalists were kicked out of or left their Christian churches because of their adoption of universalist beliefs.

George de Benneville began preaching a universalist message in the 18th century in Europe and was nearly beheaded for preaching to an underground group of Protestants in what was then Normandy. He eventually made his way right here to Germantown, Pennsylvania attracted by word of the colony’s religious tolerance.

Elhanan Winchester was the pastor of a Baptist church in Philadelphia in 1781 and was kicked out for his newfound universalist beliefs.

John Murray may be a bit more familiar to you. The conference and retreat center that our men’s group regularly goes to is named for him. Murray converted to universalism in England while serving as a Methodist minister and left that religious tradition and set sail for America in 1770, became shipwrecked on the New Jersey shore, launched his preaching career, and eventually made his way to Massachusetts.

These men and the Universalist men and women who came after them early in the movement were religious rebels willing to speak out for the sake of their revolutionary truth that all will be saved.

This conclusion was not the only radical truth universalists held fast to. Universalists could make the case for universal salvation because of their unwavering confidence in a sovereign but loving God. They held an absolute faith that God’s love was an indestructible and everlasting force present for all humankind.

Universalism grew and developed over time becoming influenced by new philosophies and theologies along the way.

But over the years it has held onto one basic truth: God is love.

By reimagining who God is, the Universalists placed love front and center in our religious language as Unitarian Universalists. And, love remains a term that we UUs continually come back to when discussing our religious values. That is our Universalist legacy.

And, I don’t think you need to believe in the same god those early universalists did to embrace this legacy today.

I personally do not believe that god is a sovereign deity who exists way above or beyond this world with the power to control our fate. The early universalist confidence and optimism in a loving but supreme deity does not resonate with me.

God, for me, is the name I use to describe the vast mystery and spirit of life that connects all beings. It is, to use Paul Tillich’s words, the ground of my being. The ground of all being.

Clarence Skinner’s more modernized description of the Universalist idea of God finds more resonance with me. He describes the Universalist idea of God as “a universal, impartial and immanent spirit whose nature is love.”

It is universal meaning present to all people and all creation.
It is impartial, regarding all equally, and it is immanent – right here with us.
And the nature of this God is love.

The feminist theologian Carter Heyward speaks in a similar way about god. For her this is god with a small “g.” She says that, “god is nothing other than the eternally creative source of our relational power, our common strength, a god whose movement is to empower, bringing us into our own together, a god whose name in history is love.”

This notion of god takes god out of the heavens, out of hell, and into our human lives. We are the creators of that godlike force present between us.

“a god whose name in history is love”

The Universalists began our journey down a truly radical path of belief regarding salvation and god. Theirs is a radical legacy. But a legacy can simply become forgotten history if we don’t live it out in the present. The founding universalists took those first radical steps and we must determine what ours will be today.

And, I believe that we will only discover this if we attempt with all our hearts to take that Universalist truth that the nature of God is love and make that truth real and visible to the world.

We must put that truth into action.

Many in our faith community have already been doing this.

A recent example is the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Standing on the Side of Love campaign. For nearly a decade, the phrase “standing on the side of love” has been the slogan for our denomination’s support of marriage equality. And, the big yellow banner that stretches across our front entrance on Lincoln Drive proclaims that this congregation is standing on the side of love.

The denomination formalized “Standing on the Side of Love” as a public advocacy campaign in 2009 in response to a shooting in a Unitarian Universalist congregation the previous year.

Some of you may recall this tragic event. One Sunday morning, the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Knoxville, Tennessee was gathered for worship. The children were in the middle of performing a play when a man by the name of Jim Adkisson walked into the sanctuary with a semiautomatic shotgun and began shooting. Police arrived within minutes but not before he had killed two people and injured six others. The congregation was an active and well known force in that part of the state for equal rights for the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community as well as for women and people of color. Just two years before the shooting, the congregation’s youth group had joined a group of LGBTQ youth in organizing a demonstration in a local park after two same-sex teens were harassed for holding hands. The shooter that morning had left a letter in his car describing his hatred of the liberal movement in general and same-gender loving people in particular.

The Tennessee Valley UU Congregation was stepping out boldly to make real and visible the truth that the nature of God is love.

Here is another standing on the side of love story:

When Arizona SB1070, the now infamous anti-immigrant legislation,
became state law two years ago, the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix organized a march and rally in protest of the law. Hundreds of local congregants participated streaming through downtown Phoenix wearing those famous bright yellow t-shirts pronouncing that they were Standing on the Side of Love. Well, there wasn’t much else to identify who this crowd of yellow, shirted folks was. And so, other participants in the march and rally started calling out, “You’re the ‘love people.’

Make real and visible the truth that the nature of god is love.

Love is present and available to us always. But we must choose over and over again to make it real for ourselves and others.

Carter Heyward says, “We are not automatic lovers of self, others, world, or God. Love does not just happen. We are not love machines, puppets on the strings of a deity called 'love'.”

We must choose to make love real and visible.

Making it real means making it concrete. Not allowing love to remain sentimental but making it active and effective.

We are not in Knoxville, Tennessee or Phoenix, Arizona. The forces working against love may not be as obvious to us. Acts of hatred may not be as blatant. We may have to think a bit more critically and reflect a bit more deeply on how in our personal lives, in our religious community and in the broader world we make it real and visible that the nature of god, or life’s ultimate meaning, is love.

I invite you to take a moment to reflect on this now.

What is one way that you can make real and visible the truth that life’s ultimate meaning, or the nature of god, is love?

And, I invite you to take a brief moment to share this with one other person near you.

This may mean being a loving presence for someone in your life facing a difficult situation.

It may mean going out of your way to meet someone you typically avoid because of what you perceive to be true about them.

It may mean showing up at an upcoming rally or demonstration for immigrant rights or in support of public education.

The radical journey those early Universalists began for us continues today as we choose again and again to make real, visible and concrete, a god whose name in history is love.


Closing Words
from Universalist minister, Reverend Elizabeth Strong:

Where the heart stirs, there moves Universalism.

The center holds us within its transformative power of love. We know with a wholeness of spirit
that God is love,
that life is good,
that people are created for goodness out of love,
that in the final reckoning
all shall be one.
When we hurt, when we are broken, when we become separated:
Let us seek the center which holds,
Let us remember the goodness for which we were created.
Let us be open to the transformative power of love,
that moves with the heart of life
and be whole once again.