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Message 45, Positive Change for a New Year: Changing the Way We Think, 1-16-11

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program, 01-16-11

Rick Warren, of the evangelical Saddleback Community Church in California – and erstwhile Obama inaugural prayer leader, has many views on faith, Jesus and the world – most of which I do not agree.  On a few points, however, regarding the purpose for churches, synagogues, temples and mosques, I believe he is quite right.  Fundamentally, all institutions exist and continue to operate for a purpose.  Warren challenges faith communities in his book The Purpose Driven Church to be more than inwardly focused clubs.  He essentially makes four points: faith communities grow warmer through social fellowship, deeper through learning, stronger through Sunday services and larger through community outreach.  Thankfully, over the past year I have seen our congregation grow in each of these four areas.

For us at the Gathering, what purpose does our church serve?  I have often asked that question and your thoughts and answers to it will vary by individual.  Ultimately, I believe we – along with most dynamic and growing faith communities – are change agents.  Hopefully, the Gathering is a place where change happens and where change is encouraged – both inside and outside our walls.  Yes, we arrive here on Sundays and we participate in social events as a way to meet and connect with others.  Humans are social creatures.  But I hope a primary reason many of us are here is that we seek change, growth and learning.  We want to gain more understanding and intuition about our world and our lives; we seek greater self-confidence; we yearn for happiness; we want to detach from our past; we want to make a difference; we seek the elimination of destructive life patterns; we are in search of wisdom, maturity and humility.  We are not perfect.  We acknowledge a need to evolve.  We need others here in this community of friends, guests and visitors to help us change ourselves so that we can help change our world.

In that regard, this January series on positive changes for a New Year is really no different than any other monthly message series offered here.  They are all about change to one degree or another.  And today, I hope to discuss one of the most fundamental changes we might execute in our lives – how to change the way we think.  Our minds and the way we mentally process thoughts, emotions, dreams and memories determine how we behave and act.  To change the way we think may not necessarily involve altering our basic personalities or the unique ways each of us sees the world.  Instead, changing the way we think might, for most us, involve eliminating some of the negatives in our thinking – how we might be prone to anger, depression, arrogance, doubt,  bitterness, fear or a host of other attitudes which often prevent us from being true to our better selves.

Many people at this time of year make annual resolutions to improve their lives in some fashion.  In doing so, they focus on changing their behavior.  In a recent study coming out of the National Institute for Mental Health and the Ohio State University, altering behavior is not nearly as effective in producing long term benefits as is changing cognition – changing the way we think.  For example, one might resolve to change behavior and eat less as a way to lose weight but this study indicates that unless one changes how one thinks about oneself, about eating and about food, the success of the diet will not be as strong.  What this study seems to show, and experience has long shown, is that the way we think about ourselves and our world determines how we act and behave.

And cognitive change is not a mundane or routine exercise.  I believe it is, like most areas of our lives, a fundamentally spiritual endeavor.  Our thoughts and emotions are inextricably linked with what we believe about existence, purpose and relationships.  Paul, in the Biblical letter to the Roman church, implored us not to follow standard behaviors but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.  Such, for him, is the key to change.  The Buddha asked that change be embraced, teaching that it is a fact of life.  As we understand this, accept it and then change the way we think about ourselves and our desires, negativity and self-absorption are reduced.  Peace, wisdom and gentleness are the result.  Gandhi also opined on the subject by saying that we must be the change that we want in the world.  To emphasize his point, he also said that men and women often become what they believe themselves to be.

As spiritual creatures passing through this present state of existence, who we are, the relationships we form and the differences we create in this world are determined by how we think.  Is life alive with possibility or is it a dead-end street?  Do I exist to insure that I am comfortable and happy or is my purpose to bring comfort and happiness to others?  Is my mind open to other opinions and thoughts or am I the only one with valid ideas?  Is love found in giving it away or in receiving it?  Is life about suffering or about joy?

Interestingly, I believe most of us know how we ought to think.  But mental health experts tell us that while we often know how to think in positive ways, there are negative thoughts, assumptions and attitudes in our minds which operate on the fringes of our daily thinking.  As I drive down the road and am suddenly cut off by another driver, a fringe attitude might immediately trigger feelings of personal insult and inadequacy, thus impelling me to rage with indignation, honk my horn and extend a rude gesture.  Changing the way I think about such incidents – now and in the future – might prompt me instead to understand that the actions of the other driver were not personally directed at me, I am not significantly impacted in terms of time, and the needs of that driver may exceed my own – he or she might be hurrying because of some emergency or it might have been a simple and unintended driving mistake.

And that thinking shift is the essence of cognitive change for the better.  We must alter our perspective and the way we interpret or see events in our lives.  I must first acknowledge my own fringe perspectives of negative thinking.  I then resolve to examine them and why they exist within my mind.  Are they the result of past hurts, feelings of insecurity, inadequacy or unresolved anger?  By recognizing why I have acted in such a manner – what motivated my thinking and my actions, I can better prescribe a solution.  Many therapists encourage people to practice free association thinking.  For example, when I feel insulted – which may or may not be the reality of what has just happened – what is the first thing that comes to my mind?  Is it that I am weak?  Incapable?  A person abandoned or unloved by a parent or partner?  What thought do I immediately associate with feeling insulted and then what is my emotional response – anger, sadness, shame?

Another way to diagnose why we negatively act in certain situations is to keep a diary of daily life events and how we think or feel about them.  This will help us in our self-awareness which I believe is absolutely critical to healthy living.  We must, as much as possible, know ourselves and our own weaknesses, strengths and emotional triggers.

Once we identify and diagnose the fringe thinking that triggers a negative mode of action – for instance, “I can never be a likable person” – we can then choose an alternative and positive way of thinking, “I am not perfect but I am a kind person who is friendly to others.” And this new way of thinking must be practiced and even recited over and over in one’s mind.  Such rephrased thinking can be memorized and consciously used to replace our previously identified negative thought.  Therapists tell us this takes time, practice and willful effort – it is not easy.  But changing our negative thinking IS possible and it IS effective in then changing our behavior.  Instead of reacting with anger when I feel insulted, I might instead brush it off or charitably assume the other meant me no harm – all because my thoughts about the perceived insult are positive.

Indeed, many people believe strongly in what is called the Law of Attraction.  How we think and what we believe about ourselves will fundamentally determine the kind of friends, lovers, associates and life events we attract into our lives.  What more important reason can there be, then, for us to alter some of the ways we negatively think? Can we renew our minds in order to live, work and relate in happy and fulfilling ways?

An additional means to cognitively change for the better is to practice the Buddhist art of mindfulness.  Many people study, practice and meditate for a lifetime seeking greater mindfulness, which is focused thought solely on the present.  This way of thinking lets go of the past and its hurts or pleasures.  It also does not think about the future – plans, expectations or dreams of what might be.  Instead, mindfulness, as I understand it, is about accepting the gift of the here and now – this moment when every breath and every heartbeat exists within an eternity of one second.  I am here.  I am alive and present within the warmth and blessing of this place and this group of people.  I am content and I am happy.

In that regard, seeking mindfulness might come as one by-product of a greater emphasis in our lives on spiritual growth – through meditation, prayer or silent reflection.  As much as changing negative thinking to positive thinking takes conscious and willful effort, finding happiness in our thinking can also come from spiritually renewing our minds.  As we turn to prayers of intercession – when we think about and hope for the well-being of others – we often transform the troubles of our own lives.  Even more, such thinking impels us to work to transform the troubles of other people.  Prayer for others is a classic way to move our minds away from ourselves and towards the needs of family, friends or strangers.  Indeed, an ancient Persian proverb says, “I had the blues because I had no shoes – until upon the street I met a man who had no feet.”

Spiritually focused thinking seeks unity with the wider community and all creation.  It forgets the self and instead ponders the realm of cooperation, common cause and mutuality.  Let me leave behind thoughts of my needs, desires, and selfish ambitions and ponder, instead, what small role I can play to build heaven on earth.  As Jesus said, the kingdom of heaven is here and now – we must get to work to make it even better.  Buddhist loving kindness meditation is one form of such positive thinking.  In our silent reflections or meditations, we might repeat over and over mantras or prayers about someone else, “may you be happy”, “may you be healthy” or “may you live with ease.”

However it is that we pray or meditate or reflect, our task is to change our self-focused thinking.  We dream, we hope and we envision contentment, joy and peace for other people and, indeed, for all creatures.  Surprisingly, in doing so, we also find our own peace.

Dear ones, I am a man riddled with insecurities.  They manifest themselves repeatedly in my daily life.  I hold back from communicating to others my true feelings because I fear their judgment.  I can shy away from genuine intimacy because I do not fully accept myself.  I walk in here every Sunday with a small knot in my stomach, uncertain how the service will go and concerned that it will not be liked.  I’ve learned and I’ve grown a lot in my 50 some years of life but I know I am far from perfect.  I have so long to go on this road as I seek to be fully content in my own skin and to know that each action and each thought will nurture and love others.  I want to go to sleep each night knowing that even in some small way I have changed for the better my thinking and thus my behavior.  In my dreams, I hope to sing the song of angels – to act with kindness, to practice peace, to speak with gentleness and to live with humility.  In this New Year of 2011, will you join me on this journey of change?

Message 44, “Positive Change for a New Year: Empathetic Listening”, 1-9-11

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program, 01-09-11

Two life partners, who have been together for many years, are in their bedroom getting ready to go out for the evening.  One stands in front of the mirror and exclaims, “Oh, look at me!  I have gotten so old and wrinkled.  And I have so much extra weight on me too.  Please, dear, tell me something positive about myself!”  There is a long pause of silence before, finally, the other partner responds.  “Well, dear, you have absolutely terrific eyesight!”

And thus, in a humorous way, this story highlights a problem our culture and so many of us deal with day in day out.  What we have here, as the famous movie line goes, is a failure to communicate!  Most blame our communication break downs on an inability to fully, accurately and succinctly express ourselves – either verbally or by written word.  More often than not, however, we fail to genuinely understand each other – in an accurate and caring manner – because we do not listen. A failure to listen does not just involve not hearing words spoken.  It involves so much more than that.  Indeed, many experts assert that only 30% of the way we speak to others is communicated verbally – through words.  Instead, the other 70% of communication is conveyed through body language, voice inflection, facial expression, and the pace and volume of speech.  A monotone –  “I love you” conveys far different meaning than an impassioned “I love you!” And that is just a simple example.  How do we accurately hear and fully listen to each other when far deeper emotions are involved or more complex issues are discussed?

Experts assert that we generally listen at one of four levels.  We are either ignoring what we hear, we pretend to hear what is spoken, we are selectively listening or we are attentively listening.   The latter category of listening is the most difficult to practice and, unfortunately, it is rarely achieved.  I choose to call attentive listening by another name.  I call it empathetic listening which demands a focused and disciplined way of engaging in conversation or discussion.  I believe a fundamental flaw in most work, romantic and friendly relationships is a failure to fully and accurately communicate.  One component of effective communication is the ability to listen and then fully understand what has been said.  In my mind, the spoken word is over-valued.  A listening heart and spirit is so much better.

In the daily affairs of life, we often talk to others instead of with others.  In many conversations or discussions, we interrupt, we offer advice, we respond with simple platitudes, we change the subject to focus on ourselves or we simply don’t pay attention.  Confusion, tension, broken relationships and work inefficiency are all the result.

We so often, therefore, fail to listen to others with empathy. We understand the meaning of words spoken but most importantly fail to discern the emotions and feelings behind the words.  In the funny situation with which I began this message, how may better responses might have been given had the partner sought to understand and empathize with the emotions of someone who is likely fearful of the aging process and all that involves?

Our message series for this month is focused on what a lot of people are doing at this time of year – resolving to change.  A new year brings new resolutions to grow and be a better person.  In that regard, I’ve chosen three topics where altering behavior can, I believe, create significantly positive change.  Today, we will look at how we can practice the fine art of empathetic listening.  Next Sunday, we’ll look at how changing the way we process our thoughts – altering our cognitive approach to the world – can produce renewed lives.  Finally, in our third week, we will look at how affirming speech – and practicing it – will also improve relationships and our own sense of well-being.  As always, I am merely a co-participant in this journey called life and these messages are intended to inspire both you and me…I am far from being some perfected saint who lectures you with a sense of superiority.

I therefore believe it is a spiritual endeavor to change our existing patterns of behavior for the better.  In that regard, learning how to better listen and show true empathy is a way of connecting with others and with the world around us.  It involves putting into practice the ideal that life is not just about me as an individual.  We exist for a higher purpose – to serve others – and for our purpose today, one way to serve is to empathetically listen to others.

The Biblical book of Proverbs says that we are to turn our ears to wise sayings and then apply our hearts to what is heard.  Such is the essence of empathetic listening.  Jesus himself encouraged his followers to hear not only with their ears but to see with their eyes and understand with their hearts.  He asked for empathy.  The Buddhist Shantideva says, “Whatever joy there is in the world, comes from cherishing others. Whatever suffering there is in the world, comes from only cherishing yourself.” If we are to exist with one another in a manner that brings happiness, we must cherish others so much so that we truly understand their thoughts, fears, dreams, and pains.

Empathetic listening therefore involves opening the spirit to hear, comprehend, love and care about the thoughts and words of another. It does not mean extending sympathy or agreement.  It means being still, not speaking, and then engaging the ears, mind and heart so that you fully understand another person.  When we practice empathetic listening, we have heard and understood to the degree that we are not only able to communicate back what has been said but we have put ourselves symbolically into the shoes of the other in order to see and feel an issue or problem from their perspective.  As I said, this is not sympathy.  Sympathy is feeling FOR someone.  Empathy is feeling AS someone.  Furthermore, one does not need to agree with the other in terms of what is said or the feelings expressed.  Empathetic listening engages the heart in a manner such that one simply understands the words AND the emotions.  I see you.  I hear you.  I feel what you are feeling.  As President Bill Clinton famously said, “I feel your pain.”

By listening more – and doing so empathetically – I believe we will actually improve relationships in our lives and thus create positive change.  Tension, confusion, inefficiency and misunderstandings might be reduced or eliminated if we empathetically listen.  To engage in the practice builds trust, respects and acknowledges the other, gains the speaker’s cooperation, creates openness, encourages greater sharing of information and leads to effective problem solving.  At work, we will be more efficient.  At home and with loved ones, we will be happier.  Indeed, many times people need to engage in what is called “cathartic communication.”  Emotions and feelings need to be expressed.  For that to happen in healing ways, however, someone must be willing and able to listen and empathize.

Experts agree that empathetic listening involves several crucial steps.  First, the listener gives the other his or her full attention.  He or she is completely present in the moment with mind, ears, heart and attitude fully engaged.  One’s body language is essential.  The listener is open, relaxed and aware.  Some suggest the listener’s body be positioned with shoulders softened, legs and feet uncrossed, hands open and unclenched, arms are uncrossed, and the upper torso leans at a slight tilt – around 5 degrees – towards the speaker.  The listener looks the speaker in the eye and never yawns, fidgets or looks around.

Second, an empathetic listener does not talk while the other is speaking.  One never interrupts.  One might ask a few clarifying questions but not so many that the speaker might feel he or she is being grilled.  An occasional head nod or “uh huh” is also good.  The listener does not share his or her own personal experiences nor does he or she try and problem solve or offer advice.  Empathetic listeners are not defensive if accusations are made about them – they are not baited into arguments.  Extending simple platitudes are also ineffective – like, “It will all be OK” or “It’s not that bad.”   Finally, it is best if the listener does not think of what his or her response will be while the other is talking. The essential criteria are to simply and attentively LISTEN.

The third step in effective empathetic listening is to summarize, after the speaker has concluded, what has just been said.  But this should not be a simple recitation of facts or words.  A good summary of what has been heard will restate the facts while letting the speaker know that you understand meaning and emotion.  The listener is able to articulate the feelings behind what the speaker has said.  This is where hearing with the eyes and the heart are important.  The listener must use intuition to read the body language of the speaker and to hear changes in the voice or volume to discern emotions.  If that is not possible or if one is still confused about how the speaker feels, it is ok to simply ask how he or she feels about what they just said.  As an example, a good friend might give a long and very detailed description of a parent’s medical condition, surgery or other therapies.  An empathetic listener will be able to briefly recount the highlights of what is going on and then be able to suggest what the speaker is feeling.  “Your father is very ill due to a heart attack.  The illness of a parent can be frightening and very sad and I sense that is how you are feeling.”

The point of this crucial step is to simply be a mirror to the speaker.  An empathetic listener reflects what has been said and what is being felt.  Being able and willing to identify and articulate the emotions of the speaker is most important.  That is what distinguishes an empathetic and attentive listener from one who is selective in listening.  When Ed and I have an argument, it is common for me to listen to the words he says but then respond with commentary or perhaps a defense.  Instead, our discussion and the solution to our problem will come if I am able to listen to and discern the emotion he is feeling – anger, sadness, frustration, or whatever.  By repeating to him the facts of what he just said and then telling him I have heard and understand how he feels, even if I don’t agree with him, I will have truly shown him respect and love.

Finally, after the listener has summarized and it is clear that the speaker has been understood, it is ok for the listener to simply be quiet and say nothing.  Silence at this point is often good.  Experts say that many people appreciate opportunities to be heard and they are able to work out, by actively giving voice to their problem, an appropriate solution.  Effective listeners have open ears, closed mouths and are, in general, silent.  Indeed, it might be cliché but it is an obvious truth that humans have evolved with a need for two ears and only one mouth.   We must listen more than we speak.

All of us lead very fragile lives.  We might think we are brave and courageous folk who can tackle any problem but the truth remains that life is full of challenges, setbacks and hurt.  And we see so many around us who are similarly hurting and in need of human connection.  International terrorism, for instance, is fundamentally based on fear, insecurity and poverty in many Muslim nations.  How often have we sought to hear, understand and empathize with the emotional wounds many poor or exploited Muslims feel?

In our own nation today, liberals and conservatives often scream at each other across an ideological divide that seems too wide for any bridge to span.  How often do we really hear and understand the emotions of fear, insecurity or doubt in such exchanges?  The insecurity and frustration of the gay and lesbian community so long demeaned, bullied and marginalized?  The fears of farmers and small business owners taxed and regulated to the point where they are ready to give up?  The dreams of Latinos and African-Americans as they yearn to share in the blessings of our nation?  The nightmares of an unemployed and uninsured father as he worries about the health and well-being of his wife and children?  We shout and yell at each other across a political divide without listening and without any willingness to show empathy or understanding for what has motivated opposing political views.  Indeed, I believe highly opinionated people are the least empathetic.  They tell others what they think instead of seeing, hearing and feeling what others believe and feel.  As I said earlier, empathy does not involve agreement but it does require a conscious willingness to see things from the perspective of the other.  I believe such a choice opens us up to a morally imagined world of compassion and the possibility of cooperation instead of confrontation.

Many studies show that the best learners are those with a natural sense of curiosity.  And those with natural curiosity have one character trait in common – they practice effective listening skills.  As we diminish our egos and our inflated sense of self, we are motivated to connect with others in an empathetic manner.  We listen.  We seek understanding.  We feel the pain of others.

In this New Year, I have already tried to put into practice better listening skills.  I want to be an empathetic listener.  As with all things, this will take practice and I will frequently fail in my efforts or I will completely forget to listen with empathy.  But I am trying to consciously be aware of how I listen to others and I encourage all of you to gently hold me accountable.  St. Augustine once said that we ought to tell the world as often as possible about the love of God.  And, when necessary – he said, use words.  I believe that it is in our quiet, knowing moments of listening and of silence that we communicate to others our love and care – we don’t need words.  I believe that by listening to how we might have hurt or frustrated a lover or friend, we will have truly honored him or her.  I believe that what a world in pain needs most in this New Year is empathy – for you, for me, for genuine understanding and peace.

Message 43, Christmas Eve 2010, “Holiday Perspectives: Through the Eyes of a Servant”, 12-24-10

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program-12-24-10

George Matthew Adams, a well known newspaper columnist of the early 20^th century once said, “Let us remember that the Christmas heart is a giving heart, a wide open heart that thinks of others first. The birth of the baby Jesus stands as the most significant event in all history, because it has meant the pouring into a sick world the healing medicine of love which has transformed all manner of hearts for almost two thousand years… Underneath all the bulging bundles is this beating Christmas heart.”

And so, as we just sang, I hope we gather here tonight as a faithful people.  On this eve of Christmas which both brings so much joy…….and so much angst in our lives, perhaps we can once again contemplate its higher meaning.  Yes, we love the gifts, the parties, the beautiful music and the good food, but we could think of other reasons to so celebrate.

Here at the Gathering we’ve looked at a few different holiday perspectives over the past few weeks – through the eyes of the skeptic, through the eyes of those who suffer at this time of year and through the eyes of women and a re-imagined Virgin Mary.  Ultimately, though, the holiday comes down to commemorating the birth of a man whom we cannot even say for sure ever lived.  As much as our faith calls us to heed certain teachings in the Bible, it is most definitely NOT a history book.  But along with the sacred scriptures of other world religions, the Bible contains profound pieces of wisdom and insight.

I believe the power and beauty of Christmas is that one such piece of insight for us is symbolically represented in the Bible through the birth of the Jesus child.  Whatever our beliefs about whether the Christmas story is fact or myth, we find that the birth of a weak and homeless child, perhaps conceived out of wedlock, fully represents the ethic of Jesus’ teachings.  Born not to wealth and power but to an impoverished teenage girl, housed not in a mansion but in a small barn, leading a life of an itinerant rabbi and condemned to die a criminal’s death, Jesus was and is the most unlikely of heroes.

It is an ironic twist, but the power of Jesus and his birthday story come not from the sword or a lofty position of status or a bulging bank account, but from the example and teachings of his life.  He began that life as just another poor child – one of millions – born in some unknown village to parents of no special reputation.  He lived his years in another small town, performing manual labor and never amassing the funds to build or own a home.  And yet, whether or not this man Jesus ever lived, two thousand years later, we still celebrate his birth.  To understand why, we need only hear the words attributed to him…

Blessed are the poor,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth…
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy…
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of the Divine.

Come, you who are blessed…I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.

The one whose birth we celebrate tonight and tomorrow, the one who calls us to give, to find peace, to act with love and humility, was first and foremost a servant.  The cries of the Jesus child echo to us from that distant Bethlehem night……to be like him…..to have the heart of a servant.

(Please sing with me, while remaining seated, the song, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”)

Jesus is quoted at one point in his life as saying that whoever is the greatest among us will be our servant.  He teaches the paradoxical notion that greatness comes not with power and status but with lowliness and servitude.  In that regard, the story of a low-born baby coming to serve humanity resonates strongly.  As we just sang, it is in those who are humble who find the Jesus child within.  The heart of the Divine, we are told by Jesus, is to think less of ourselves, to esteem the needs of others as greater than our own, to love our enemies, to renounce violence, and to forgive.  In each action, we serve others.

Out of all the things we do each day – most of which are done to meet our own personal needs – the mundane actions of service for others speak the loudest.  Whether it be for a partner, a child, a friend or a stranger, each act we do for another, is a Jesus act…we reach beyond ourselves, and our own needs, to meet those of others.

Seeing through a servant’s eyes is to see the world in a new way.  As I often say – and continually must apply in my own life – we exist for a purpose far beyond the meager years and petty demands of our own lives.  By serving the needs of others, we fulfill our holy destiny to help build a better world.  We participate in the moral imagination to improve equality, justice, health and welfare for all creation – not for our narrow interests.  What a nasty and brutish world it would be if we each always acted according to our own interests.

A servant does not count the cost nor does he or she seek the limelight.  Genuinely motivated servants often operate in the background never seeking glory or recognition.  Indeed, the highest form of service or giving is to do so anonymously – we will have served and loved with pure motivations.  If we serve only to bolster our own egos or reputations, I believe we have failed to act with love.

Much like prayer or meditation, serving others selflessly has its own intrinsic rewards.  We draw nearer to the heart of God – who is simply defined as love.  Mother Theresa is famously quoted as saying that when she tended a dying street person or leper, she felt she was in the presence of the Divine.  To wipe a tear or extend a caring hand was, for her, a way to touch the face of God.

My friends, it is not enough for us to simply say we believe in love.  Each of our actions and, indeed our lives, must, I believe, speak of serving others.  We must refuse to return hatred with hatred, we must listen to another when we have no desire, we must forgive an offense as if it were not committed, we must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, tend the sick, extend a smile, offer a kind word, rescue an animal, give a hug, cook a meal….in simple terms, we must find a way to do for others great or small acts of kindness.  Indeed, if we say we love others but do not act to tangibly show it, we are the worst of hypocrites.

I was recently sent the story about an honor marine whose duty it is to inform the families of soldiers that their loved one has been killed in combat.  This marine arrived at a nursing home to so inform the father of a fallen soldier.  He discovered, however, that the man he was to inform was himself dying.  In the fog of drugs and near death, the man confused the honor marine for his own son and extended his hand to be held and comforted.  This marine, however, did not fulfill his intended mission of informing the old man of his son’s death, but instead grasped the hand of the dying man and then proceeded to remain with him through the night until he peacefully passed away.  The dying man all the while believed he was holding the hand of his beloved son.  Such an act of love and service may seem small but it speaks of what any of us should do for another.  How do we treat family members?  How do we respond when criticized or attacked?  How do we serve the least of God’s creation – the poor, homeless, illiterate, hungry, abandoned, sick and imprisoned?  Each of us has, I believe, the capacity to serve and to do so in amounts greater than we meet our own personal needs.

I know that within these walls there are many who serve sacrificially.  The tutor who patiently teaches a young inner city child, the one who comforts a local inmate, those who rescue wayward animals, the life partner who daily loves and honors his or her mate, the ones who volunteer to feed the hungry, the tireless parent of any child, those who comfort and support frightened gay teens, we are all in the presence of the Divine.  We celebrate the birth of Jesus tonight and His life purpose, as we ever seek to make it our own life mission…….we live to serve.  This Christmas and in the year ahead, may we celebrate that servant child born in a manger within us all…………………….

Please reflect with me and watch a short pictorial video capturing, I hope, the essence of loving with a servant’s heart…click here.

Message 42, Holiday Perspectives: Through the Eyes of Women, 12-19-10

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program-12-19-10

View Related YouTube video shown during the service. Click Here.

Many of us are able to conjure in our minds a vision of what a perfect Christmas would look like.  In these mental images of ours, we might think of our extended families gathered together on Christmas morning, a tree is lit with abundant and beautifully wrapped presents underneath, stockings are hung with care, a generous breakfast awaits the conclusion of gift unwrapping, and we are all smiling and laughing.  Each person receives the exact gift they need or want.  Later in the day, a large meal awaits as everyone sits down to Christmas dinner.  And if we think about how such a perfect day results, many of us often assume that it is our moms or our wives – if we have one – who has engineered these idyllic scenes.  A woman, we often assume, has done most of the Christmas shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning and decorating.  Indeed, many in our culture often take it for granted a woman has been in charge of choreographing family Christmases.  And, perhaps unfortunately, in many families that is probably true.

The same holds true, I believe, for our vision of the original Christmas.  Whether we believe the Biblical version of Christmas or not, we nevertheless think of the manger scene, with Mary, Joseph and an infant Jesus gathered in a barn.  Mary has humbly and obediently consented to be the mother of god, she has married Joseph, travelled with him several hundred miles on foot to Bethlehem – while nine months pregnant, and she then endures labor and birth in the company of donkeys.  Images of this scene and countless Christmas messages implicitly tell us that Mary is the perfect woman, the perfect mother, the pure, virginal, holy, subservient, docile, and faithful female.

In this December series of ours on various holiday perspectives, last week we examined Christmas through the eyes of suffering.  How might we reconcile the hurts many of us feel at Christmas-time with the prevailing notion that we are to be happy and joyous in this season of celebration?  Today, I want to perhaps burst another holiday bubble of ours – and then redeem it………the mythic lesson we learn from the Christmas story that Mary is to be admired because she was a faithful and servile woman who acted at the calling of her husband and of an all-powerful male deity.

Just as we have our own mental images of perfect Christmases, possibly created due to the efforts of a mom or woman in our lives, I believe we have the same type of mental image of Mary, the virginal mother of Jesus.  And these cultural stereotypes of women and of Mary have implications in how we act and how we choose to view women during the holidays and throughout the year.  They are to be super-human in putting together perfect Christmases just as Mary is assumed to have been super-human in making sure that the first Christmas morning took place.

The prevailing Madonna image of women is a persistent one.  For today, I want to explore with you how the Madonna perception might be transformed and re-examined, not just in a feminist light, but with a humanist perspective.  How might the moral imagination of all people – male or female – be improved through a new understanding of Mary?  Can we find a way to demolish the constraints of the so-called battle of the sexes – that women must fulfill one type of role and men another?  Might we come to venerate Mary not for her obedience but for her strength; not for her weakness but her assertion of equality; and not for her perfect maternal attitudes but her insistence that, as the Bible tells us, there is no male or female in the eyes of the Divine?

Many feminist theologians claim that the real problem with the Virgin Mary is that she was not a real woman who can inspire women to reach new heights of achievement.  She was and is a construct of a male dominated culture.  Indeed, her seemingly unquestioned willingness to accept God’s choice of her as the womb mother of Jesus and her continued reputation as a virgin – in some religions, untouched by a man for the remainder of her life – all of this has set her as an unattainable ideal.  She is a mythic goddess of virtue and of absolute faith.  How many women can possibly live up to her standard?

The imposition on Mary of virgin status is one that many theologians do not accept as factual.  Of the four gospels, only Matthew and Luke record the Christmas story.  There is compelling evidence that the first part of the gospel of Luke is a much later forgery – one appended onto the original in order to mimic Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth.  And the Christmas story in the gospel of Matthew is itself largely believed to be based on a mistranslation of the Old Testament book of Isaiah which predicted that the messiah would be born to – the Hebrew word – “almah”.   This word “almah” was translated as “virgin” by the original writer of Matthew when it should have been accurately translated as “young girl”.  The mother of Jesus most likely became a virgin because of a mistranslation.

Paul never mentions the virgin birth in any of his letters found in the Bible and he even refers to Jesus as the son of Joseph, born according “to the flesh”.  If Jesus had been born of a virgin, Paul would almost assuredly have mentioned it.

Many ancient gods were born from virgins.  Roman emperors were said to be so born.  In the swirl of multiple religions in ancient times, Christianity needed to compete – Jesus could not be a mere human prophet – and so it is strongly supposed – and there is much evidence to support it – that the myth of Christmas and a virgin birth of Jesus was a mistake later embraced by male church leaders.

Besides giving us the holiday of Christmas and the season we now celebrate, this myth has harmed countless women.  The male leaders of the early church and successive male Popes and religious figures have all seized on the stories of Eve and of Mary to define and thereby subjugate women.  Eve was the first sinner for it was she who was seduced by Satan and it was she who then tempted Adam.  A woman, according to this theology, caused the fall of humanity.

Mary was the perfect answer to a sinful Eve but she is good only by obedience and submission to male authority.  In that interpretation of the Christmas story, she retains no control over her own body.  The implicit message of this version is that a woman’s body and sexuality are evil.  Redemption comes only through virginity, and compliance with male authority.  As many feminist theologians have described it, Mary was figuratively raped in the conception of Jesus.  To be perfectly blunt, it is possible to see our warm and wonderful holiday of Christmas as based on the control and forced impregnation of a poor, young, middle-eastern girl.

And it is Mary’s status as a young, poor girl from a backwater town that has so captivated many similar girls and women around the world.  In her book titled Indecent Theology: Theological Perversions in Sex, Gender and Politics, Marcella Althaus-Reid argues that the ideal of a Virgin Mary is horribly distant from the reality of life for poor women around the world.  In the crowded and impoverished conditions of urban ghettoes or rural areas in third world nations, sexual violence and promiscuity are normal.  Young girls are routinely raped, sold into sexual slavery or forcibly married off, in return for a meager dowry.  These girls thus find themselves pregnant at very early ages.  But in many nations, particularly in Latin America and parts of Africa, women revere Mary at a level almost greater than that of Jesus.  She represents the perfection they cannot match.  She is the goddess who remained pure, who kept her faith and who is the very mother of god.

The virginal myth of Mary reduces many women around the world to the second class status that a patriarchal culture desires – Mary is pure, you as a woman are not.  You are sinful like Eve.  The guilt and shame you feel are deserved.  Your only redemption is to be like Mary and simply obey your father, husband, Priest, Pastor and God.  Be docile.  Be quiet.  Be a good mother.  Choreograph the perfect Christmas.

My concern with the myth of Christmas as it relates to women is not to say that the roles of wife or mother are necessarily bad.  Indeed, Mary’s love for Jesus as a mother is well known – she was one of the last people to remain at the Cross, she was one of the first to testify of his resurrection and many have called her the first disciple.  Those are the actions of a woman who has freely chosen what to do.  We never hear of Joseph after Jesus’ childhood.  But Mary was an active follower of Jesus and one who herself found common cause with the outcasts, the sick, and the poor.   What I hope we can elevate is the ideal of a woman who seeks, finds and then chooses her own path in life – whether that be as mother, doctor, wife or corporate manager.  We celebrate the basic human right of control over one’s own body and one’s own sexuality.  Those are gifts from the Divine for each of us to enjoy with dignity and autonomy.

Where does our concern with the ancient Virgin Mary and Christmas myth leave us?  Must we throw out this holiday and our enjoyment of it as some patriarchal construct that is both outdated and pernicious?  I believe, along with many others, that the mythic Virgin Mary can be redeemed.

Quite a few feminist theologians argue that Mary’s virginity paradoxically constitutes an elevation of women. Mary, as she is revered by many women, can also be seen as flouting the patriarchal notions of womanhood.  After all, she did not need a man to give birth to Jesus.  She was independent of Joseph in that regard and thus assumed an importance greater than his.  In many cultures and religions, it is the phallic seed planter that is admired.  In this instance, it is the feminine womb that is idealized.  Like the ancient Greek vestal virgins who held great authority in their society, Mary is independent of male influence, power and control.  Indeed, some have noted that with her virgin birth, she was the first to proclaim an unorthodox, perhaps even a lesbian sexuality – men are not needed.  Whether or not the mother of Jesus was a virgin, the message we might discover from her is that she asserted control over her own body.  If she was impregnated by normal means, Mary defied the patriarchal construct that a woman must be pure before marriage.  If she was a virgin and yet still a mother, we might see her as asserting similar control over her body and reproduction.  In that case, she also defied the patriarchal construct that men are essential.

Our American 19^th century writer Harriet Beecher Stowe admired Mary because of her elevation to near equality with God.  Mary allows, according to Stowe, the admiration and veneration of the feminine aspects of God.  Indeed, she offers many a theistic reason to refer to God as Mother instead of as Father.  Divine attributes of nurture, compassion and sensitivity are admired because of Mary.  Indeed, no less of a conservative Christian writer than C.S. Lewis once noted, “It is arrogance in us to call frankness, fairness and chivalry ‘masculine’ when we see them in a woman; it is also arrogance to describe a man’s sensitiveness or tact or tenderness as ‘feminine’.”

What we find then, I believe, is the possibility of a transformed Mary.  Ultimately, this transformation is for the betterment of all humanity.  As I said earlier, a re-envisioned Mary liberates women to freely control their own bodies and lives in ways that are unorthodox and assertive.  She also liberates men to adopt Divine qualities that are too often seen as feminine but which should be, instead, universal character traits – love of peace, sensitivity to the suffering of others, nurturing attitudes and a soft-spoken demeanor.

And I do not propose this new image of Mary as a way to salvage Christmas.  If Christmas is, indeed, based on misogyny and chauvinism, it is not a helpful holiday.  Nevertheless, even though Christmas is most likely, I believe, based on myth, it holds powerful messages of spiritual truth for us to learn and practice.  As I said last Sunday, the purpose and message of Jesus the man was not to create a perfect world but to create change in the human heart.  The teacher, rabbi and prophet Jesus called us to think more of others than of ourselves, to practice forgiveness, to learn peace and to offer compassion.  Why would we not celebrate the birth of such an individual?  In the same manner that we honor in January the birth of Martin Luther King and celebrate in February the birth of Abraham Lincoln, so too can we celebrate and enjoy the birth of Jesus – perhaps the greatest human to have ever lived.

And all of this holds true for Mary, the mother of god, the impoverished virgin, the teenage girl chosen in myth to become Queen of Heaven.  Male power throughout history has chosen to use Mary as a means to control and subjugate women.  She has been the anti-Eve to all of the so-called fallen and depraved women of the world.  Be like her in obedience to men and to Father God.

And yet, as I stated earlier, Mary is also the one with real power in the Christmas story.  We might see that however she became pregnant, she exercised control over her body.  We witness her independence from men and the fact that she had no need of Joseph.  She was autonomous in her unorthodox sexuality and, ultimately, in any male use of her body.  Whatever she was, an adulterous woman or a virgin, she made the choice.

Mary, in this form of liberation theology, frees women from the shackles of male dominance over their reproduction and she also frees men from the wounds resulting from the oppression they have inflicted.  Men need no longer be in control.  They can also be weak.  They must no longer always be the decision makers.  They can submit.  They can cry.  They can, in a word, be like Jesus.  Indeed, God the Father might symbolically dress in drag and become God the Mother.

Just as we might believe with regard to Jesus, so too can we believe with Mary: strict definitions of gender and of gender specific roles are not the stuff of our moral imagination.  I believe humanity seeks cooperation and mutual reconciliation no matter the race, class, sexuality, religion, OR gender.  The ultimate message of Christmas is one of peace and goodwill towards all humanity and towards all creation.  If contemporary religious patriarchs choose to still exploit the Virgin Mary and the Christmas myth for their own agenda of male dominance and aggression, we must, I hope, respond with our own interpretation in behalf of wounded women and hurting men.

In that regard, let me sum up my point: the docile, gentle and obedient Virgin Mary who has been revered for her unattainable purity is a false image.  That Mary is, I believe, a false prophet.

The Mary I choose to celebrate this Christmas, and the Jesus I accept as a great man, were prophets of self-actualization, compassion, love and independence. This Mary and this Jesus are forever immortalized in the manger scene within our minds – a woman of determination, autonomy and gentleness.  She swaddles in a blanket the child who will go down in history as a person who calls us to serve the least of humanity – the sinner, outcast, ill and needy person within and around us all.

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child, heroes of earthly peace, love and freedom…

I wish you all a joyous and inspired Christmas.

Message 41, Holiday Perspectives: Through the Eyes of Suffering, 12-12-10

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program-12-12-10

On this day after our annual holiday party and in a season when thoughts turn to giving, celebration, food, family and cherished memories of Christmases past, it is sobering to remember that nearly one billion people on this earth live with some form of malnutrition, protein deficiency or basic hunger.  1.3 billion people in our world – nearly one sixth of the total – live on less than $1.25 a day.  Over seven million children world-wide under the age of five died this past year – never to know the joys of this season.  565 thousand people in the U.S. died of cancer in 2010.  400 thousand died of AIDS.  There are over 17 million people currently unemployed in our nation.  7 million children in the U.S. live with food insecurity – they do not know where their next meal will come from.  On any given night, over 6% of all U.S. families are homeless – defined as living in cars, on the streets, in temporary shelters or in a dwelling they do not own or rent.  1.5 million Senior citizens live in round the clock nursing care facilities.  15 million American adults – over 8% of our population – suffer from clinical depression.  In the Darfur region of Sudan, over 400 thousand innocents have been killed simply because of their ethnicity.  .

I could go on and on with such statistics of misery.  It is obvious that in this season of warmth and cheer and generosity, we live in a world of pain and hurt.  Our human condition, we all know too well, is not immune from suffering.  Each of us, many in the past year, have experienced some form of suffering and each of us will, at some point in the future, know the realm of deep grief, illness or loss.  Are Christmas, Hanukah and other seasonal holidays somehow cruel jokes on us all – ways for us to symbolically “whistle past the graveyard” and make us forget the true reality of life’s pain?

We might, in seeking to understand the whys of human suffering, look no further than the mothers and fathers of our Christmas celebrations – I speak in this case of the Jewish people.  Jesus and his parents were, after all, Jews.  Christianity emerged out of Judaism as it owes the concept of monotheism and a personal god to that faith.  But as we find with one of the main characters at that first Christmas, Jesus’ step-father Joseph – a pious Jewish man, suffering is a well-known historical condition for Jews.  From the story of their slavery in Egypt four thousand years ago to countless ancient wars against them to the Spanish inquisition of the Middle Ages when many were burned at the stake for refusing to convert to Christianity to the Holocaust to recent attacks by terrorists and an Iranian regime bent on Israel’s destruction, Jews more than perhaps any other group of people, have experienced horrific forms of suffering.  Indeed, many contemporary Jews believe that the Biblical recognition of them as God’s chosen people is not a sign of favor but is, instead, a way to show the rest of the world their resilience, growth and perseverance in the face of tragedy and hatred.

As we look to the Biblical Christmas story and examine Joseph’s behavior on learning of his bride to be’s pregnancy and apparent infidelity to him, we see a man determined to rise above his fate.  We learn that upon hearing Mary was to give birth to a child, Joseph reacts with honor to such personally devastating news.  He first seeks to divorce her quietly – not wanting to subject Mary to public disgrace or to possible stoning – a punishment of the time for adulterous women.  Next, when asked by God to relent and accept the new child as a miracle, Joseph proceeds to wed Mary, to care for her during the pregnancy and then to accept Jesus as his own son.  After the birth, Joseph saves Jesus from King Herod’s murderous intentions and then raises and supports him as his own.

The Christmas story of a virgin birth is one likely created to build up the supernatural credentials of Jesus.  It is, I believe, more myth than actual history.  But, like many stories in the Bible, it comes with principles and important applications to humanity.  For us, we appreciate and sympathize with the plight of Joseph.  While Mary knew in her own heart whether or not she was indeed a virgin, Joseph had to accept that assertion on faith.  He had to experience all of the likely emotions of anger, hurt and denial on hearing of Mary’s pregnancy and likely infidelity.  And, while many others rushed to celebrate the birth of the boy-god, Joseph must have privately hurt – stung by the realization that this child was not his own.  In human terms, Joseph was the first to know and understand the private pangs of pain and depression that often come with Christmas.  Everyone else is seemingly happy and full of joy while you alone suffer in silence.  Indeed, as we heard when I read the statistics of suffering in our world, Christmas pain is neither unique nor is it likely to ever end.  Holiday pain – and suffering in general – are human realities.

For any of us, how do we make sense of suffering in our world?  How do we reconcile it with Christmas and with this time when the whole world tells us to be happy?  What does Joseph’s example – and that of all Jews – tell us about suffering?  When we suffer, should we “suck it up” as some might tell us?  Should we examine our lives for defects in us that caused us to suffer?  Are we being punished for past sins?  How do we cope with our human condition that knows hurt, disease, death, poverty, hatred, hunger, depression, loneliness and despair?

As I have discussed in previous messages, Victor Frankl wrote a book entitled The Meaning of Life in response to the horrors he experienced in Nazi concentration camps of Auschwitz and Dachau.  But his book is not a history of such suffering.  It is an account of how he came to find purpose and meaning in his own suffering and in that of his fellow Jews.  He did not reject his suffering as the wrath of an angry god or even the work of pure evil.  In order to survive his experiences, Frankl realized he had to find meaning in them.

As Fyodr Dostoyevsky, the famous Russian author once observed, a person must choose to make himself or herself worthy of their suffering.  Indeed, the primary motivation of our existence, according to Victor Frankl, is to find our meaning and purpose in life.  In the face of inevitable tragedies and pains, the choices we make in our attitudes, our compassion for others and in our love will, I believe, determine how happy we really are.  Indeed, suffering might lead us to better understand and then practice our true life purpose.  Frankl chose to hold onto love for his wife, kindness for fellow inmates, his Jewish faith and his hope in the future.  He refused, despite all of the degradations he faced, to give up his basic humanity – a humanity that comforted others in pain, that saw the good in each person, that cherished love, that refused to be a victim, that sought growth and learning.

In his book The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, Fyodr Dostoyevsky writes of a man who, in a dream, travels to a paradise where there is no evil, no suffering and no pain.  In this perfect world, however, the man soon realizes that with no suffering and no hate, there is no joy and no love either.  Dostoyevsky points us to the fact that absent evil, there can be no experience of good and that without suffering, there can be no compassion, no empathy, no generosity and no love.  How can such emotions be expressed if there is nobody in need of them?  The man caught in this dream comes to yearn for a return to our earth of pain where he can kiss the ground of misery and cherish it for its ability to help us experience true love – from others and for others.

It is an ultimate irony of pain and suffering that only through personal experience can we truly understand their opposites of joy and happiness.  How can we empathize with the pain of others if we do not experience it ourselves?  How can we love another if we do not know its absence?  How can we find light if we do not know darkness?  Joseph was able to honor Mary and love his adopted son Jesus because he had experienced the depths of betrayal and sadness.  For any of us this Christmas to fully experience the transcendent joy and beauty and light of this season, I believe we must first accept and embrace the pain of our own lives.

Such is the spiritual message found in suffering and, I believe, in Christmas itself.  Pain in our lives is able to bring about growth if we choose to pursue such change.  Embracing suffering does not mean that we accept it in order to be stoic martyrs.  Instead, we are asked to acknowledge its present reality – in our world and in our lives.  Growth from suffering comes then as we choose to change its future.  We work to learn from it, then change it and then hopefully not repeat it.  Instead of asking why God allows suffering in our world and in our lives, we must ask instead how we can work to reduce it.  Instead of choosing the path of victimization in our suffering, we must learn to accept that all people suffer and we should not expect to be immune from it.  We then open ourselves to the grace that comes from personal growth and to the gentle compassions others often choose to show us.   We loosen the binds that keep us stuck in the clutches of victimhood, anger and bitterness.  Christmas joy – and happiness, in general – are then the results.

Too often in life I have chosen to flee from suffering.  I am conflict averse and I will choose retreat instead of reasoned and appropriate confrontation.  I seek pain avoidance and thus, too often, a path of diminished challenge and less growth opportunity.  I am coming to understand that if I confront the pain or hatred or despair I might experience, I will learn more about myself and others.  I will find strengths that I lack or that I did not know I had.  I will find reasons to move into unknown realms where I can find new insights and new truths.

I believe that for most of us, we can find better empathy for those who hurt and struggle if we ourselves do not flee from embracing our own hurts.  Indeed, a root meaning of the word compassion is “to suffer with…”  In this sense, as each of embrace our own pain or hurt, we can care more for the sick, the lonely, the dying and the unloved.   I have known no great and profound tragedy in my life but I have felt stings of rejection, of bullying, of prejudice and of false shame.  My personal experiences of past hurt allow me to understand the pain of others.  I am therefore better able to extend myself to a world in pain.

The Jewish people have often found solace in words from the Torah – or our Old Testament – when God says to them, “I have given you as a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.” It is a wonder to many historians, and a point of anger to their enemies, that Jews have persevered throughout history despite their many hardships.  After the slaughter of 6 million of their brothers and sisters, Jews chose to claim their own nation, to challenge prevailing forces of hatred and to grow from the depths of their own horrors.  Indeed, in a very perverse way, Hitler did a favor to Jews around the world.  The pain he inflicted on their race made them stronger.  The deaths he perpetrated caused them to seek inner strengths and inner resolves few of us can understand.  And such is the point of the Bible verse in which Jews find themselves as lights to others – lights of growth, of strength, of perseverance and of a refusal to wallow in their victimhood.  Like many of us, some of them may have forgotten the lessons of their own suffering and they no longer find empathy for the lives of Palestinians who also suffer and die.  But the lesson of suffering and of empathy is no less true even if some Jews have forgotten it.  The same holds true for us.  We must never forget our own life pains precisely because they allow us to better empathize with fellow humans and creatures.

I cannot begin to diminish the pain many of you may have experienced in your lives.  I do not wish to offer simple platitudes to explain away such hurt.  But with our acknowledgement that pain and suffering and death in this life exist for all of us – in some form – what choices do we make in the face of that reality?  Do we retreat and flee?  Or, do we find our suffering to be transformative?  I believe there are lessons to be learned about life and love in the suffering we experience.  To use crude terminology – and forgive me for saying this – there is gold in the crap of life.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, writing in his classic The Gulag Archipelago, reached an epiphany – a profound moment of growth that emerged out of his Siberian exile and suffering.  He had found during his time in prison an ability to survive, to love his fellow man and to hate injustice all the more.  He writes, “So, bless you, prison, for having been in my life.” Is it possible this holiday season, this Christmas, for each of us to accept the realities of our loneliness or infirmities, our aging, our poverty, our enemies, our failures, our rejections, our losses or our hardships?  Can we truly embrace generosity and kindness, peace and gentleness because we ourselves may have sometimes been denied them?  Can we forgive our enemies and those who have hurt us as we discern the hurts in them?  Can we then say to ourselves and to others, “Merry Christmas and thank God for the pain in my life?”

In this Christian time of advent – before the upcoming birthday of Jesus – we place many hopes in the spirit of goodwill that seems to permeate this season.  We bask in the glory of friendships and family.  We look to the Prince of Peace – our understanding of who Jesus is described to be – as the reason for this season.  The Biblical story of his birth tells us that he came to redeem evil on earth by calling us all to act like our better angels.  But the ultimate message of the Jesus story is, I believe, that he did not live and die in order to create maximum pleasure on earth.  Instead, I believe Jesus was about creating maximum change on earth.  And that change must begin in the human heart – in our own hearts and souls.  Jesus could not alter the fact that lepers existed, that women were treated harshly, that outcasts were shunned, that people suffered and that people hated and were cruel.  What he could alter, through his teachings, was our response to such tragedies.  The light of Jesus, the man whose birth we celebrate this Christmas, is that despite great despair, hope is real.  Despite profound pain, joy is not an illusion but a reality we can choose to discover.  Out of the suffering we experience in our lives and in our world, let us find this Christmas – truth…….and peace……… and love – for ourselves and for those around us.

Guest Speaker Joan Wyzenbeek,  “From Shame to Celebration”, 11-28-10

© Joan Wyzenbeek, the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Service-Program-11-28-10

August, 1948    Newark Advocate

Newark, Ohio

Miss Joan Dixon has been sentenced to 1 year in Marysville Reformatory for carrying on relations with those of her own sex, one of which was Mrs. Maxine Northey.

I was born Joan Dixon in Newark, Ohio in 1930. There were many issues in my early life that brought me shame . . . My alcoholic father, poverty, our run-down house with the peeling paint. But the most devastating shameful event happened when I was 18.

At age 16, I had befriended a woman named Maxine. One day we were sitting on her bed and she leaned over and kissed me.  I didn’t know the words Lesbian or homosexual. All I knew was that it felt good and I was in love. I put a picture of Maxine on our family’s piano and I called her my sweetheart. By that summer in 1948 I was spending most of my time at Maxine’s.

I had a lecherous uncle, Henry, who also was attracted to Maxine, and he found that I was too much competition. He convinced my Mother that I was in great moral danger and that she needed to do something. Luckily my family was not in a financial position to have me committed to an institution – many gays and lesbians of that era were subjected to shock treatments. However, she did go to the local police and swear out a warrant for my arrest.

I knew there was something afoot, so I was trying to stay out of sight by walking in back alleys, but one day a police cruiser stopped and picked me up. I was taken to the county jail and there was a hearing before a judge. The charge was deliberate disobedience, and my sentence was to be served at Marysville Reformatory for women. When the police drove me to Marysville, though, we were turned away because I was 18 and deliberate disobedience was not an adult crime.

They decided to take me to the Delaware Juvenile Detention Center, but I was rejected there because I was no longer considered a juvenile. The local authorities didn’t know what to do with me – so they held me for 30 days. When the time was up, and I walked out the door, a policer officer asked me if I needed a ride somewhere and I said “Yes, back to Maxine’s.”

Maxine and I packed up our belongings and moved to Cleveland, hoping to find a more tolerant environment. I was young, and I soon realized that Maxine was an alcoholic like my father. The dysfunction in our relationship became so painful that one night I was walking the streets of Cleveland with a butcher knife, thinking I would end my life.

The shame and secrecy of my life was a constant as I embarked on a series of monogamous relationships with women. Each partnership was a little more functional, but throughout the 40’s and 50’s society was telling us to be ashamed. Gay bars were raided – the paddy wagon would pull up in front and load the customers in. I was always able to hide and avoid arrest. Of course, all of the churches were telling us that we were sinners. One night I went to a lecture by a prominent psychologist who stated “Homosexuality is a symptom of a deep-seated neurosis, much like alcoholism, pedophilia, and so on.”

So – I was a criminal, a sinner, AND mentally ill. If you’ve ever seen the documentary Before Stonewall, you might remember the trend I became a part of. I was living in Washington DC in the early 1960′ s, and my partner and I both decided to go to a psychiatrist and get “cured.”  The cure took hold to the extent that I married a good man and had two beautiful children. For once in my life, I felt like a respectable member of society. I enjoyed making references to “my husband,” even using it when I got stopped for speeding. “Oh, my HUSBAND is going to be so upset with me.” But guess what – the “cure” didn’t last. After 8 years of marriage, we went our separate ways.

In the 1970’s I got involved in the human potential movement and found that I was having some peak experiences that I could not explain. A friend of mine who was a Methodist minister suggested that I go to seminary. So I enrolled in United Theological Seminary in Dayton and completed a Master of Divinity program. I was planning to be ordained in the Methodist Church, and had started the process, but the church came out with a proclamation: ordained ministers must adhere to “fidelity in marriage and celibacy in singleness.” By then I was already in love with Pat Ritz and I knew that the Methodist ministry would not fit with the life we envisioned together.

I considered becoming a minister in the Unitarian Church, and even served as a student pastor at St. John’s in Clifton. But their humanist approach was not in keeping with the spirituality I wanted to explore and express. For awhile Pat and I joined a coven and celebrated the Earth holidays. One of the members of that group was Norah Fluent, wife of the pastor of Salem United Church of Christ. She introduced me to Alan Fluent and I found my denomination home –  the UCC! I was ordained just one block away from here, at Salem. It was a wonderful day, with friends and family in attendance. My son read a poem by Joan Baez, my daughter sang Day by Day and Pat was an acolyte – a role she never could achieve in the Catholic faith she grew up in. I served as community pastor at Salem, and also worked at the Free Store/Foodbank and Sign of the Cross, a housing ministry in Over the Rhine. So with The Gathering I am coming full circle!

The United Church of Christ has been in the forefront of seeking equality for the GBLT community, with many churches choosing the Open and Affirming designation. The national denomination has passed a resolution supporting gay marriage.

It’s inspiring that some members here are connected with PFLAG. One of my fondest memories is the gay and Lesbian march on Washington, DC in 2000. Pat and I were watching the groups march by when we saw a PFLAG contingent with signs like “I love my gay son, “ and “We’re proud of our Lesbian daughter.” We were dissolved in tears, and several women broke ranks and came out to give us big hugs. I’ll never forget it.

In my 80 years of life, I’ve lived in many different places. Some think Pat and I are crazy for leaving Florida, where we lived for 18 years. We spent several years in Lexington and never found a spiritual home there. Now Cincinnati is home because of The Gathering.

I knew we had reason to celebrate when we were chatting with Ginny Patterson one day and Pat expressed her appreciation for how much the congregation supports “our lifestayle.” Ginny gave her a quizical look and said “What do you mean – your lifestyle? It’s WHO YOU ARE!!”

It’s only been recently that I’ve been able to share the shameful story of my month behind bars. That experience, though, is probably the reason I have so much compassion for animals, and especially the ones that are penned and caged. They are innocent, as I was, and they have done nothing to deserve cruel treatment.

I am also a very strong advocate of justice, and there is one current issue that affects me deeply. You can say that we have come a long way, but until we have marriage equality, we have not won our rights. I’m afraid that the right to marriage for same sex couples will come too late for Pat and me. Even if the federal government approves gay marriage, we will most likely miss out on the biggest benefit – the one that comes when one partner dies. We get along fine on our combined social security income, but I worry a lot about what will happen to the one who is left when the other one dies – and most likely it will be Pat who is left. People who are legally married for at least 10 years are able to continue to get their own monthly social security, plus half of the deceased spouse’s amount.

I hope that young GLBT folks who are fighting for same sex marriage will keep us elders in mind, and try to factor in our many years of shared life. In our case it is 35 years and counting.

Yes, there is much to celebrate and much work to be done. With the help and support of all of you, I am becoming brave in telling my secrets, claiming my identity, acknowledging my life partner, and confronting injustice. Thank you so much for being here. I love you.

And now, as is our tradition, I welcome your comments.

Message 40, “Toward a New Thanksgiving: A Spirituality of Sufficiency”

November 21, 2010

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

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I remember when I was much younger, perhaps around eight or nine years old, I got caught up in the fad of the times to collect marbles and then compete in a game to acquire someone else’s marbles.  This was a 1970’s version, I suppose, of the current fad to play with Gameboys or Nintendos.  And, as a gay boy before I even knew I was one, I was not a rough and tumble guy involved in sports like football, basketball or wrestling.  But I did like the game of marbles and that gave me entry into the world of the cool guys.

My mom bought me a starter set of marbles and I remember scouring through them to find the ones that were most valuable – those with intricate design, clear glass or swirled patterns.   Art and beauty were foremost in my mind.   The color and the design had to be just right!   And so I began to do all I could to acquire more and more of the most elegant marbles.  I held on to the ugly ones too.  The more I had of those, the more it seemed that I was good at winning them in competition!  I can’t remember how long this phase lasted for me, but I what I distinctly recall was my desire to have more and more marbles and to seek after only the best ones.  Playing for fun with other guys became less and less important – I might lose some of my prized marbles.  What became most important was to carry around with me a bag of beautiful marbles – in multiple sizes – which I would display to others hoping to arouse their envy.  I had become a little, greedy, gay, marble tycoon – acquiring far more marbles than I would ever need!

Commenting a hundred years earlier on that childhood affliction of mine called greed, Mark Twain once said, “A human being has a natural desire to have more of a good thing than he or she needs.” And the more modern commentator, Maurice Sendak, wryly noted on the same subject, “There must be more to life than having everything!”

What we seek today, as we have over the past two Sundays, is a new truth in our upcoming Thanksgiving.  The title of the holiday itself often frames our attitude at this time of year.  We are thankful for all of the blessings we have received.  In that regard, I imagine that on Thanksgiving forty years ago I was saying to myself that I was truly grateful for the hundreds of beautiful marbles I had collected.  What has stirred me, and I hope some of you in this November message series as we examined Native-American and Pilgrim spirituality, is the notion of living in balance – with nature, with each other, and with ourselves.  Thinking about the idea that our human propensity is to seek after excess – to desire more of things which we do not need – I wonder if our Thanksgiving thought this year and for the future might be gratitude for the things we don’t have?

This idea might be expressed in a number of ways.  I call it a spirituality of sufficiency.   This is not praise for all that we have or all that we must have.  Instead, it recognizes simple needs and sufficient supplies.  As a starting point, might we approach Thanksgiving with the humility the Pilgrims said they believed?   Once again, the ethic is to be thankful for all that we do NOT have – all of the unnecessary items and attitudes we could possess, but don’t – and to instead be satisfied that, for most of us, our basic needs in life have been met.

At that first Thanksgiving nearly four-hundred years ago, the Native-Americans shared their food with the Pilgrims in an attitude of sufficiency.  By sharing their food stores – their wealth – with others, they expressed a belief that there would always be enough for all.  This attitude was clearly expressed in their spirituality about living in balance with nature.  By consciously choosing to use and consume only enough for their needs, Native-Americans were assured that all parts of the universe would exist in harmony or within the Sacred Hoop of life as they called it.  I can well imagine the Natives giving thanks at that first meal not for the fact that their table was full with food, but for the fact that they had given away so much.  Since they believed in a spirituality of sufficiency, there was no worry.  They would have enough.  By giving away their food, they opened themselves to the joy, laughter and human connection of that first Thanksgiving meal.  As Mahatma Gandhi once put it, “Earth provides enough to satisfy every person’s need, but not every person’s greed.”

A new sense of Thanksgiving might compel us to reject the symbols of this holiday – a horn of plenty bursting with abundance, or a table heavily laden with all kinds of food.  Could we instead think in terms of economy, of ecology, of simple needs and of basic provisions?  Might we waste less, observe limits and choose never to take more than what is required?  All of this is certainly not the American way.  Our culture demands that bigger is better and that more is always the best.   More money.  A bigger house.  A roomy car with lots of horsepower.  A giant screen TV.  Larger food portions.  A plush and expansive church building.  Bigger.  Better.  More!  More!  More!  And that mindset leads directly back to the Pilgrims who so quickly were unsatisfied with a limited colony, who wanted more land and who wanted more power and more religious conformity.   From our very beginnings, Americans have seen life as having unlimited possibilities – to work more, achieve more, acquire more and consume more.  As we know, this has had both good and negative consequences for our environment and our way of life.

Almost all other species on earth have developed systems that value limits.  Instinct and evolution have taught them to spontaneously know when enough is enough.  Humanity, on the other hand, must consciously choose to set limits for itself.  We are a greedy and arrogant species.  We take more than we need and we think higher of ourselves than we should.  As we saw with Native-Americans, they chose to live a simple life within a natural system of inter-dependence and inter-connection.

This understanding of balance in all things must extend to all aspects of our lives if we are to fully achieve a spirituality of sufficiency.  In matters of wealth, might we come to redefine what it means to be rich?  Instead of material or financial criteria for measuring wealth, a new understanding of it would encompass having enough for one’s basic needs, having time to experience laughter and play and having access to meaningful interaction with other persons and other creatures.

Also, instead of placing a solely economic measure on our work, we might value it for the degree of satisfaction, community impact and meaning it brings.  Even further, diligence and hard work – which are often cited as the means to greater financial wealth – these might also be redefined.  We act in ways that seem virtuous – buying, selling or working hard to achieve economic growth that creates jobs or opportunities for others – but what if we cut back?  What if we realized we have enough and do not need more?  What if, in our work, we realized we already have enough and do not need to work more simply to achieve finances beyond what we need?  Concepts of job sharing come in to play.  Perhaps there are many of us who work and earn beyond what we need.  We could share our job in order to allow another to make just enough for their needs.

We can work harder at building the kind of quality wealth I just defined.  By working less – perhaps in job sharing – we would free up time in life to build the kind of wealth that we truly want  – emotional satisfaction, play, reflection and time for loved ones, friends and self.  Personal fulfillment and satisfaction, therefore, need not be met solely through our jobs or through an accumulation of wealth beyond our basic needs.

In our reflections, meditations and prayers this upcoming holiday season, can we envision a new spirituality in giving thanks?  There exist on this blue marble planet, hanging in the vastness of space, over six billion fellow humans.  It seems there can barely be enough of the sun, water, land and air we need to survive.  And yet there is enough if we appropriately share.  We find in our lives too many things and too many extras that consume our time and attention.  We frequently fail to live as humble souls in harmony with each other and with other creatures.   Let us give thanks, this Thanksgiving, for all that we do NOT have.  And let us remember that there are many who cannot offer such a prayer for they truly have nothing.  To the child somewhere in this world who rummages through garbage heaps to find daily food, to the homeless woman asleep on the doorsteps of a local church, to the confused and frightened gay teenager thinking of suicide, to the sick and weary one, alone in a nursing home or hospital, without friend or family, who simply waits to die, there can never be enough.  In our spirituality of sufficiency, we remember there are far too many people with whom we can share our bounty of time, of money and of love.

Within our family of friends and loved ones here at the Gathering, we have so much.    We are a deeply grateful people.  To whom much has been given, much is expected.

We have more than enough.

May we have hearts to give away our surplus.

And then, may we joyfully celebrate this Thanksgiving all that we do not have and do not need…

Message 39, Towards a New Thanksgiving: Pilgrim Spirituality

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

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In the well known and often quoted Sermon on the Mount, Jesus spoke to a huge crowd of his followers.  His words echo through the centuries because they spoke to the rights of all people but more particularly to the oppressed, the marginalized and the outcast.  His words were a blessing to the poor, to those who mourn, to the humble, to those who hunger and thirst for justice, to the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and the persecuted.  Others will mock you and attack you he said, but Jesus encouraged his followers by comparing them to persecuted prophets.  Finally, Jesus praised his followers by saying they are like a shining beacon or a prominent city on hill to which the whole world looks with respect and admiration.

And Jesus’ famous words have been used by countless groups and individuals to soothe and comfort them in their real or imagined afflictions.  This was the case with the Pilgrims of Plymouth colony.  As they fled England and an oppressive King and ruling church, the Pilgrims saw themselves as a powerless small group of individuals seeking only the right to prosper and practice their religion as they chose.  Using the words of Jesus, John Winthrop, who was Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony – an offshoot of Plymouth Colony, he said in 1630, “For we must consider that we shall be as a City upon a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us.” This often quoted comment from Winthrop has become an icon of American culture and politics.  From Daniel Webster to John F. Kennedy to Ronald Reagan, many have used this quote to cast a vision for our nation and way of life.  The quote is used, however, without realizing John Winthrop hated democracy and was strongly intolerant of others different from the Pilgrims and Puritans of early 17^th century America.  Quakers, Catholics, women perceived to be witches and, of course, Native-Americans were not only persecuted but cast out of the supposedly perfect city, or colony, on a hill.

And Jesus’ vision of millions of oppressed people becoming a light unto others was combined – in the minds of the Pilgrims – with the other ultimate Bible story of a persecuted, but God favored group, who sought refuge in a new land.  According to the Old Testament story that resonated with the Pilgrims, the Israelites were led by God and by Moses four thousand years ago out of the shackles of Egyptian slavery. They endured countless hardships in wandering the Sinai desert for forty years.  Just prior to entering Palestine, God reminded them of his favor and that they would inherit a land of milk and honey with abundant water and great opportunities.  Even so, God warned the Israelites not to exalt themselves, to remain humble and to NOT say to themselves, “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.”

Our understanding of the Pilgrims – our prevailing myth about them – is that they united at their first Thanksgiving as a courageous people who fought religious persecution, who braved a treacherous Atlantic crossing, who nearly starved to death in a strange new land but who ultimately prospered and thrived.  They gave thanks to God and to themselves for their success.  As a nation and as a culture, we remember them and their apparent ideals each and every Thanksgiving.  But the facts do not support such a continued mythology.  There would have been no Thanksgiving had it not been for the Native-Americans.  90% of the food at that meal was provided by the Natives out of their own storehouses.  The fact that the remaining Pilgrims had even survived to celebrate a Thanksgiving was due in large part to the generosity, sympathy and trust of the Natives.

Indeed, the persecuted Pilgrims became persecutors themselves.  Native-Americans died by the thousands due to European diseases.  Their land was taken from them, fenced in as had never happened before, and they were routinely attacked and killed by the new colonists.  In a final act of defiance, the local Natives, under the leadership of a Native ruler who called himself King Phillip, a war was waged against Plymouth and the surrounding European colonies.  Of course, the Natives lost against the superior technology of the colonists and their local culture was virtually eliminated.  Currently, on every Thanksgiving day, the descendants of those first Natives, the Wampanoag, gather at Plymouth rock in a spirit of mourning for their lost culture and killed ancestors.

Throughout our American history and even today, the Pilgrims are seen as a brave and virtuous people who were blessed by God.  John Winthrop’s words describing his colony as a shining city on a hill still resonate in our nation.  Indeed, this Pilgrim story which ignores all of their sins, is an American heroic myth.  It is the foundation of an American belief that we have been blessed by God to spread our values and ideals across the land and that we are destined to be that city on a hill, shining out to the rest of the world as an example of democracy, justice, and moral standing.  As it is for many of us today, the Pilgrims failed to live up to their own standard of being poor in spirit, humble, merciful or peacemaking.

My intention in this message, as I said last Sunday, is not to account the sins of our ancestors.  Indeed, as I always say, truth is somewhere in the middle.  The Pilgrims were a complicated group of people – much like all of us.  As neither complete sinners or as heroic saints, their history and ideals and that first Thanksgiving should to be examined in a light of complete honesty.  As we looked to Native-Americans last week to find elements of their spirituality that can speak to us, we will look today to find elements of Pilgrim spirituality from which we might learn.

Scriptures, from each of the various world religions, offer unique insights into ourselves and our existence.  For us, the Bible is, by our tradition, a book we primarily look to for inspiration.  This does NOT mean we believe it alone contains all truth or that is infallible.  We find that other Scriptures and writings are just as profound.  From all off my studies in Seminary and elsewhere, the Jewish and Christian Scriptures we call the Bible were written by fallible people who sought to make sense of life and challenges in their own time and place.  It has survived for thousands of years not because of its claim to Divine status but because it has offered to millions of people, over thousands of years, ideas and words that are universal and timeless in scope.

And it is in that regard that we see how the story of the Israelites entering a new land or Jesus’ words about a city on a hill could so resonate and appeal to the Pilgrims.  For them, they likely only perceived the world within their own perspective – as an oppressed but moral and faithful people.  Their cause was right and so nothing else mattered.  When God asked the Israelites to be humble as they entered Palestine, such words impacted the Pilgrims only in relation to how they honored God.  The same would hold true for Jesus’ words blessing the poor, meek, and peacemakers.  While we see their arrogant and hypocritical treatment of Native-Americans and others, they saw only their Divine mission and purpose.

Their entering the New World was ordained by God and so anything good or bad that happened to them in their new home was viewed with that in mind.  The Natives were therefore instruments of Divine providence used by God to assist the Pilgrims.  In their view, there was nothing innately good about the Natives – only that God used them to help his chosen people.  Since it is God’s will that Christianity be extended around the world, according to the Bible, forced conversion of the Native was good.  Killing Natives either through conflict or disease was also good and a sign of God’s righteous punishment for heathens and those who were not Christians.

All of this speaks to our need for an open-minded reading and discussion of the Bible and of other topics.  We are all prone to close our minds to other realities and other viewpoints, believing we alone are right.  This holds true for how we might understand Islam, for example or how we might view political opinions different from our own.  One overriding message of the Bible and of Jesus is to seek after the heart of the Divine which exalts the meek and the humble and shows love for the outcast.  As much as I often feel persecuted as a gay man, for example, I can too easily turn into one who marginalizes those who hate me.    Much like the Pilgrims, I fail to live up to the standard I have set for myself.

The legacy of the Pilgrims and the Puritans continues to heavily influence American culture and politics.  A scene depicting the landing on Plymouth Rock is famously painted on our national capital rotunda – a mythic image framing our American heritage.  I have to wonder about that image, however, for it depicts a group of illegal immigrants entering a land that was not theirs and who then take it by force from Natives who had lived on this continent for thousands of years.  And the success of the Pilgrims in establishing a colony and later expanding across Massachusetts and elsewhere is mythically seen as due solely to their hard work.  Once again, they and we fail to hear God’s words.  As God said to the Israelites, we must NEVER say to ourselves, “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.” We ought to remember the words of Jesus, “Blessed are the merciful for they will be shown mercy.  Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of the Divine.”

As we can learn from the mistakes of the Pilgrims, we can also learn from many of their good intentions.  Just before landing at Plymouth, Pilgrim men drew up what has been called the precursor to our own constitution.  The Mayflower Compact was a simple document containing only one paragraph.  But it outlined that all men of the colony would have an equal voice and all matters of governance would be submitted to councils created by the whole.  While women were prominently excluded, such was in character for that era.  Nevertheless, what was remarkable was that wealth, nobility and status of birth were not factors in who had a vote.  All men were equal.  Seen in the light of the times, this was a revolutionary document and frames one of the ideals of the Pilgrims – equality for all men no matter their position in life.  We here at the Gathering will continue to cling to such an ideal within this congregation – for equality in our community no matter race, age, gender, sexuality, politics, religious belief or economic status.

In civil matters, the Pilgrims established a governing council presided by an elected Governor.  In their church, the Elders oversaw matters of faith.  Church and state were thus separate entities.  This principle of religious freedom and separation of the secular from matters of faith was at first, a hallmark of Pilgrim society.  They had fled from England where church and state were so entwined that there existed no religious freedom.  Sadly, within only a few years, the lines between church and state were blurred and the governing councils became heavily influenced by religion.  Catholics and Quakers, also immigrants to Massachusetts in the years ahead, were banished from the colony and denied rights by the Pilgrim and Puritan majority.  In England, the Pilgrims were a persecuted minority.  In America, they became an arrogant and exclusive majority.

It was too easy for them, as it might be too easy for us, to allow the opinions and thoughts of the majority to hold sway over the rights and opinions of a minority.  A morally cooperative spirituality calls us to listen, learn and consider the rights of all persons and all creation.  In the same manner that a minority must never presume to tell the majority how it must think or act, so must the majority be gentle, understanding and tolerant of a minority.  For the Pilgrims, for our nation and for our little congregation, in our dialogue about religion, politics, or ANY other matter, moral cooperation and unity are ideals we must never forget.

As theological Calvinists, the precursors to modern day Presbyterians, the Pilgrims believed in absolute predestination of people and creation.  God has foreordained what will happen throughout history.  There is no free will.  Humanity cannot earn or lose God’s grace.  As the Bible says, it is a gift from the Divine.  Thus, according to the Pilgrims and to modern day Calvinists, some are chosen by God to enjoy heaven and some to burn in hell.  Only God knows who the favored ones are.  Humanity does not.

As upsetting and disagreeable as this theology might be, it caused the Pilgrims to constantly, and fearfully, examine themselves for signs of God’s grace in their lives.  According to them, if one has been chosen by God, then evidence of godliness and Christian morality will be evident in one’s life.

For us, self-examination need not be about whether or not we are favored by the Divine One.  But the benefits of self-examination might still be applied in our lives.  I must regularly ask myself uncomfortable questions.  Do I fall short of a morally imagined life?  Am I appropriately humble?  Do I treat all people with respect and dignity?  Am I caring, compassionate and merciful?  Do I forgive?  Do I, as Jesus asked, hunger and thirst for justice?  What subtle forms of racism, sexism, arrogance, homophobia or intolerance do I possess?  Am I self-focused or others focused?  In my heart of hearts, am I loving and understanding towards my enemies and those with whom I disagree?  Are my attitudes towards all creation – like that of Native-Americans – consistent with compassion and respect?  Let me continually examine myself in my refusal to believe I am already perfected…

Much to the contrary, I stand before you an imperfect man.  So often I find myself acting far short of the ideals I profess to believe.  How much do I really help the poor?  How humble am I really?  Do I always act with love?  The answers to such questions are……… “not much.”  We might see in Pilgrim spirituality many examples of arrogance and hypocrisy.  But, as I like to say about any church or any form spirituality, such places are NOT museums of saints but, instead, hospitals for the weak and those in need of growth.  I hope that is what the Gathering is on Sundays – a learning center or hospital – but certainly not a museum.

The myth of Pilgrim heroism and righteousness is false.  But, many of their values are still valid.  Do I wish that history might be changed and European greed and arrogance against the land, the animals, the resources and the Native-Americans might have been different?  Of course.  But history is to be learned from so that it is not repeated.  Each and every Thanksgiving, when we honor our Pilgrim heritage, might we instead reflect on our own values and our own spirituality so that we do not also repeat their sins?

Dear ones, let us be genuinely humble people.  Let us deeply consider others more than we consider ourselves.  Let us never believe our own goodness and our own abilities have made us who we are.  We are the products of so many who have assisted us in the past.  Let us be meek, let us be peacemakers in ALL of our interactions, let us be poor in our lifestyles and sympathetic to those in need, let us seek justice, let us be a small light that shines brightly.  Let us give.  Let us love.  Let us be gentle Pilgrims who daily enter the lives of others with peace and joy…

Message 38, “Toward a New Thanksgiving: Native-American Spirituality”

© Doug Slagle, Pastor at the Gathering UCC, All Rights Reserved

Jon Stewart, our great TV comedian and social commentator, once related that, “I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast………..and then I killed them and took their land!”

I love how in that one statement Stewart perfectly punctures the prevailing Norman Rockwell vision of our upcoming November holiday.  It is said that with time, unpleasant truths become fuzzy and are forgotten.  I believe that is the case with Thanksgiving.  The myth of brave Pilgrims who had come to North America for religious freedom, built a colonial city named Plymouth, struggled mightily through hard work to build a thriving city and then sat down to a feast where they gave thanks to God for their new found prosperity, …..is one such false piece of history.   The truth is much less heroic.  The Pilgrims were persecuted in England as rogue religious people who threatened the state Church and its orthodoxy.  They fled to the Netherlands and lived there for twelve years where they freely practiced their faith.  The decision to depart for the New World and risk everything was not because of religious persecution in Amsterdam however.  Because the Pilgrims were so anti-social and so dogmatic in their own beliefs, they could not assimilate into Dutch society.  They were not forced to leave.  They left by their own choice even though they had full rights and privileges.

And this inability to compromise and adapt came with them to the New World.  Instead of seeking to learn the ways of a new land and a new climate, the Pilgrims steadfastly insisted on using European agricultural methods and crops.  After landing in the fall of 1620, the new colony suffered through a starvation winter.  Out of an original 102 colonists, by the first Thanksgiving the following year there were only 52 surviving.  Ninety percent of the food at that first feast was provided by the locals – the native-Americans.  Indeed, had not a Native-American named Squanto, who knew English having spent time in England after being kidnapped by English fur traders, had he not encouraged the Pilgrims to plant corn instead of barley and then taught them crop rotation and proper fertilization techniques, it is likely Plymouth colony would never have celebrated that first Thanksgiving or any more for that matter.  The Wampanoag tribe ethic towards the Pilgrims is one found in nearly all Native-American cultures – to give freely and to help others without holding back and that by giving, one earns respect while insuring there will be enough for all.

Many of the European ethics brought to the Americas, on the other hand, were of conquest, forced conversion and greed.  Two years after being saved from starvation, the Pilgrim governor, Mather the Elder, publicly gave thanks to God for destroying the heathen savages to make way for the growth of Plymouth colony.  Within less than twenty years after the Pilgrims arrived, the local Wampanoag tribe, which selflessly assisted the Pilgrims, was virtually wiped out by new diseases brought to the New World by the colonists.

The intent of my message series over the next three Sundays is not to offer a sobering history lesson into the sins of our ancestors.  Instead, I hope to frame Thanksgiving in a new and hopeful light – to look at Native-American and Pilgrim spirituality in ways that offer inspiration and insight to us today.  My goal is to try and find a new way to think about giving thanks and the idea of Thanksgiving itself.

Indeed, the moral imagination of Native-Americans is one that echoes loudly for us.  It is not based on some theological construct of a supernatural Being showering good things on those who worship and give their lives to Him or Her.  Instead, it is rooted in the most basic of our human impulses – to be at one with creation, to honor and revere its beauty, to give and share with others and to build a culture founded on the well-being of all people and all creatures.

I have said several times that religion is the construct of flawed humans seeking to impose their own beliefs, rules and practices about faith on others.  Spirituality, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of religion.  It is not man created but instead a natural force we seek to understand.  It is communal in nature.  It is open, free and not concerned with established doctrine but with the emotional and physical well-being of all humanity and, indeed, all creation.  It finds transcendence and inspiration from multiple sources and it is not afraid to be ever evolving or find new ways of thinking and reflection.  As a Native-American leader named Walkingfox puts it, “Spirituality is not religion to American Natives.  Religion is not a Native concept, it is a non-Native word, with implications of things that often end badly, like Holy wars in the name of individual Gods and so on. Native people do not ask what religion another Native is, because they already know the answer. To Native people, spirituality is about the Sacred Mystery, period~”

In that regard, Native-American spirituality offers, as Marsha has just beautifully explained to us, a new way to think about our upcoming holiday and how we lead our lives.  Of primary importance to Native-Americans is that they see their spirituality as infused in all aspects of life.  Their ceremonies are designed not so much as rituals but as practices designed to continually unite them with the universe as a whole.  From eating to sleeping to working and to pleasure, Native-Americans have countless prayers and ceremonies to remember, honor and unite themselves to great and transcendent powers.

While it is impossible to speak of Native-American spirituality as one single monolith since there are hundreds of variations, tribes share with one another common views about creation and life.  They find a duality between humans and the universe with each inextricably linked.  In their understanding of other life forms, plants and animals have human spirits within them since we are all a part of the same source.  And we, ourselves, have plant and animal spirits within us.  Toward that end, in Native American traditions when they harvest grain, or eat a plant, or hunt and consume a deer – these are all ways that life nurtures and benefits itself.  For them, these are sacred acts.  To the American Native, humans are a part of the animal and plant kingdom and they are a part of us.  But it is not mindless consumption that Native-Americans practice.  Before any meal, before any hunt and before any harvest of a crop, Native-Americans not only give thanks for the nourishment about to be obtained, but they pray to, honor and bless the ancestral spirits that inhabit their food.  It is a way to exalt nature and to further the interests of all creation.

This spirituality finds a web of life pattern where all creatures and all humans are inextricably linked and coexist together – each to the benefit of the whole.

I have often spoken of a moral imagination within humanity – that conflict and competition between people are zero sum games since nobody wins in the long term – and that cooperation and unity are the ways to individual and collective prosperity.  Native-Americans have taken that to a new level – all creation must cooperate in the survival of each other.  Humanity and nature are not distinct entities competing against the other.  Animals, plants and humans – in Native-American beliefs – co-exist and each offers their work, their lives and their physical selves so that all will prosper and live.  This is the ultimate form of moral imagination that I believe can speak to us.  Such Native-American spirituality defies traditional religions like Christianity where man is the focus of the created universe.  Those religions say we are destined, by a theistic god, to dominate and control the universe because we are the special reason for God’s creation.  Instead, universal moral imagination says that humans are but a minor piece within creation and that our purpose is to work for the survival and benefit of all things – our environment, fellow creatures and the plant kingdom.

This ideal is expressed in a Native-American belief called the Sacred Hoop.  Bear Heart, a Native-American writer, wrote in his book The Wind is My Mother, “Our old teaching is that the universe is in harmony as long as we keep the Sacred Hoop intact.   The Sacred Hoop is the circle of life—the Four Directions, the Earth, and everything that lives on the Earth.   It includes not only the two-leggeds, but also the four-leggeds, the wingeds, those that live in the waters, those that crawl on the earth, and the plant life.   Everything is part of the Sacred Hoop and everything is related.   Our existence is so intertwined that our survival depends upon maintaining a balanced relationship with everything within the Sacred Hoop.”

Whatever our personal choices and beliefs are about all created life, I believe we can find merit in Native-American traditions.  This deep respect and reverence for all life forms extends to how they view the individual in relation to family, clan, tribe, nation and world.  Existence, as I frequently mentioned in my last two monthly series, is not about us as individuals.  It is about the whole community. The compelling cry in every American Native action, as noted in a book entitled God is Red, is, “That the people might live!” This is so even for the well-known vision quest ceremonies Marsha mentioned.  One seeks insights during vision quests through fasting and prayer in order to self-actualize, and thus go out and do more for the community.  This speaks to our spiritual selves here at the Gathering.  We seek growth and worship not for our congregation or as individuals.  We exist to serve the wider realm of our community and earth.

And we give to others with that same understanding.  At that first Thanksgiving, Squanto and his chief were invited by the Pilgrims to bring their families over for a small meal of celebration.  Not knowing that family, for the natives, meant virtually an entire tribe, over a hundred Natives showed up.  And the Pilgrims did not have nearly enough food.  So the Native Americans proceeded to raid their own storehouses of food – saved for the upcoming winter – to provide most of the meal to their hosts.  This was in keeping with the Native-American ideal to share, to live communally and to practice a belief that by giving away even meager assets, there will still be sufficient resources for all.  Indeed, the individual was accountable to the tribe and community, not the other way around.  Once again, the ethic was that we live and exist not for our own benefit.  We live and exist so that the whole – the wider community – will prosper.  As I say too often to count, our purpose in life is not to sit and wait for a perfect afterlife.  It is to build heaven – to make life better for all creation – here and now.

Many tribes and Native-Americans have been accused of being Marxist in their ideology.  Such is hardly the case.  But Native-American spirituality says that land and natural resources cannot be individually owned since these were not originally given to them by the Great Spirit.  Land, water, the sun and all things within them were given to all life forms to use prudently, without waste and with deep respect.  Such things belong to nobody since they were originally meant for universal use.  Native Americans differ strongly from Europeans in that view of nature.  The land, its creatures and its resources are holy.  An abstract, supernatural God that we cannot see, feel or touch is not what is Divine.  Indeed, in direct contrast to Paul’s words in the Bible, it is the creature and the created land that we worship for those alone contain the great mystery of existence, beauty and immortality.

European-American concepts of land ownership, taking down trees, damming up rivers and slaughtering thousands of buffalo just for their hides were not only foreign to the Natives, such practices were non-spiritual and, indeed, sinful.

It is an ironic note that the Pilgrims would later claim the local Wampanoag tribe had given them the land on which Plymouth was located.  Such was not the case.  The natives had merely permitted use of land the tribe had previously cleared and farmed as a way of sharing with people in need.

Of final importance for us in understanding Native-American spirituality is their reverence for children and the qualities they possess.  Children were worshipped by most tribes for they represented to them the mystery of creation.  And, as even the Bible says Jesus noted, children possess, according to Native-Americans, a unique sense of humility, wonder and curiosity about the world.  Once again from his book The Wind is My Mother, Bear Heart tells an ancient Native-American story about a baby girl just born.  Her four-year-old brother asks the parents, “Can I be alone with her for just a little while?” The parents said, “Not right now, but a little later you can.” The next day he asked again, so the parents finally agreed and soon after hid near the baby’s crib to listen and watch.  Then the four-year-old went up to the crib and said to his baby sister, “Tell me about the Great Spirit. I’m beginning to forget.” Native Americans, according to Bear Heart, say that children came here to teach us—to teach us how to be humble and to teach us how to be giving and forgiving.

For many of us here today, we live our lives insulated in bubbles of our own making.  We live, work and move about in man-made cocoons that are climate controlled and far removed from the natural world.  Our spirituality is too often superficial and something we only think about on Sundays.  As much as we desire a world of giving and sharing and concern for all creation, we also spend too much time focused on ourselves – our own well-being, health and financial condition.  I plead guilty to all of those accusations and yet, in a few short weeks, I too will sit down and claim a weak thanksgiving for my life, my family and my friends.  My awareness of spiritual forces all around me is too often numbed to their reality, as my mind is occupied with insignificant matters – work, bills, and the mundane activities of life.  I will drive by a small park without noticing the trees or fail to really hear the sounds of birds as I walk into my home.  I live in a bubble that isolates me from physical, emotional and spiritual connection with life itself.   I am isolated from the mysteries of my own existence, from the wondrous forces of nature, from fellow creatures and from the grand design of the cosmos.  Spirituality, in the end, is not something I live and breathe every moment of my life.

And I know for myself and for many of you, the times when we escape from our bubbles and return to the natural world – these are truly spiritual moments.  I have hiked by myself far back into the wilderness of Arizona’s red rock areas, into Colorado’s mountain vastness and through the forests of nearby Red River Gorge.  I’ve glided through coral reefs, biked along our local bike paths and walked early in the morning along an empty beach.  When I hear nothing but my own breathing, the breeze through the trees, the water swirling around me or the occasional bird, the symphony of those sounds rivals anything I might hear in church or at Music Hall.  We find in those moments a sense that while we are alone and insignificant, we are also a part of the great and powerful forces that create mountains and rivers and forests.  At those times, I become a fully spiritual person sensing the Divine mysteries all around me.

That is the spirituality of the Native-American – a daily awareness of interconnection within the web of life and within the web of human communities.  I want to find that place of humility, of total giving of self and resources to the larger community and of respect and honor for fellow creatures as they are a part of me and I am a part of them.  This transcendence into the Great Mystery is actually reality itself.  We might never turn back to the high civilization of Native-Americans who every moment lived in balance with one another and with the universe as a whole.  But, may we, even in very small ways, acknowledge Native-American wisdom and seek the same…today, tomorrow and in our upcoming Thanksgiving.

“Secrets”, Guest Speaker Doug Meredith

(c) Doug Meredith and The Gathering, UCC; All Rights Reserved

I’m bisexual

I was emotionally and physically abused when growing up

Jill and I just got done filing for bankruptcy

My parents did, too

My aunt was sexually abused by my grandfather as a child

My other grandfather is bipolar

Two of my cousins were sexually abused by their father

If you’re feeling a little uncomfortable right now, that’s the point. Everything I’ve just told you are secrets. Secrets that I’ve kept, secrets that were kept from me, and things that I’m still sometimes tempted to keep a secret.

It’s a powerful temptation, the urge towards secrecy, and it comes from many places all around. The need to seem better than we are. The shame of failure. The pain of past memories weighing down on us. Fear of rejection and ostracism. The list is endless.

We’re taught young about how to make and hold secrets, sometimes without any conscious adult prompting. We’re shown that we embarrass our parents when we say what we really think about grandma’s turkey at Thanksgiving. We’re not supposed to snitch on our friends. We’re supposed to pretend that we like the school bully during the class play.

It seems to me that half of the social skills we’re taught in school are how to lie through a smile and hold our secrets close. I’d imagine everyone here felt or saw the results when an embarrassing secret got out. What happened when someone found out that the nerdy girl in school had a crush on the popular boy? Or even worse, the popular girl?

Ridicule. Isolation. Emotional and physical pain. The “best” kids, if I can even use that term, learn secrecy quick. They learn how to fake what they’re supposed to be feeling or doing instead of what they really want to do. The girl who flunks a math test so that the boys don’t think she’s too smart learned secrets early and well. And most of the time she’s rewarded for it: friends, social acceptance, understanding about how “math is so haaard”.

Jill uses a phrase from her early childhood education days: logical consequences. Kids understand logical consequences. If I do this, then that happens. What logical consequences are being taught inadvertently in this scenario?

Be what you’re supposed to be. Say what you’re supposed to say. Do what you’re supposed to do. Keep everything else a secret.

Not all secrets are bad, of course. Buying a present for somebody you love and surprising them with it can be great.

Jill likes to tell the story about how I proposed to her, although that little secret plan had some hiccups. Surprise birthday parties? Well I don’t go in for that, but other people do! Surprises are secrets, but they’re secrets of timing: waiting for the moment you picked out to disclose them, hopefully providing an unexpected moment of joy to the receiver.

On the other side of the coin, what about our white lies and withholding? Telling somebody they look nice when you don’t mean it? Thinking somebody is making a mistake, but letting them go on anyway? Saying “fine” when someone asks “how’re you doing?” on the worst day of your life?

They’re so tempting. They make it so easy to get through our social lives without getting bogged down, make us feel like we’re helping out by not making waves. Sometimes it’s just a matter of not caring enough about the person or situation.

Whatever the reason, they’re little cop-outs. I’m guilty of them too, but we shouldn’t pretend they’re for the other person’s benefit. Even if the other person wants our lie, wants us to keep our true opinion a secret, it’s of no benefit to them to go along. Why would we encourage others to walk through the world half-blind to what others are thinking? To ways in which they could be more the person they want to be?

What we should be taught, what we should be teaching our children, isn’t how to keep what they’re feeling a secret. It’s how to tell a truth. What we truly think can cause pain, can be hurtful to hear. The truth is not always a comfortable panacea, nor easy to find a way to share.

A moral person doesn’t succumb to lazy temptation, though. We find a way to tell truth with as little pain as possible. When a friend asks how they look, we don’t say “you look like crap run over by a semi and then set on fire!”. We might instead do the old trick of compliment, constructive criticism, compliment. “Those pants look wonderful! Maybe a blue shirt would look better, though? It’d show off how much you’ve been exercising.”

That’s a flip example, of course. The bigger the painful truth, the harder it can be to find a gentle way to talk about it. Nobody said the high road was easy, though. That’s why it’s called the high road.

Let me give an example that we’ll all run into. A hypothetical friend of mine is dating someone I don’t really like or trust. Hopefully, being a paragon of virtue as I am, I’ve got tangible reasons to be concerned. Maybe I’ve got another friend who dated said person in the past and talked about their horrible temper. Maybe they made a pass at me while my friend wasn’t around.

Either way, I can either keep it a secret or tell my friend. If I keep it a secret and something bad happens, it’s at least partially my fault. How could my friend have protected themselves without the information I kept from them? If nothing bad happens, all well and good right? Well sure, on the outside. But it’s a dangerous game I’m playing internally, deciding that I know the situation better than my friend. One day I’m gonna be wrong, and it won’t be my life alone that’s hurt by my decision.

There’s a point to be made here: the truth is just the truth. It’s information we can disclose or keep. Plenty of people fall into the trap of sharing truth with the expectation that the other person will do the same thing with it that the teller would’ve. That’s no less presumptuous than withholding truth. In both cases, I’ve decided that I know what’s best for you better than you do. Sometimes, very rarely, that might be true. Mostly it’s bullshit.

We don’t know most of each other half as well as we like to assume. Maybe my friend’s new beau went through years of anger management therapy and was upfront with them about it. Maybe he or she made a pass at me because it’s an open relationship. Maybe, in the end, I’m never going to have all the facts. All I’m required to do as a truth teller is speak what I know. All I might do as a friend is be supportive in whatever they decide needs to happen next. If they want my advice, I’ll know.

As a person, my only requirements are open eyes, an open mouth, an open mind, and an open heart. Open eyes to see my truth. An open mouth to speak it. An open mind to understand the truths of others. And an open heart to accept their decisions, even when they would not be my own.

Even more fraught and difficult than sharing truths with one another can be sharing them with ourselves. Self-deception is no more or less than trying to convince oneself that a secret doesn’t even exist. We’re good at it. If we learn to keep our truths to ourselves in 1^st grade, we’re taught self-deception by the 5^th. We like our supposed friends even though they pick on us and diminish us every day. We’re really happy with the boyfriend or girlfriend who puts us down or shoves us in a box that’s comfortable for them. I’m happy. Really. I swear.

Why am I happy? Because… aren’t I supposed to be? So I must be happy, despite the gut-wrenching fear or anger that I feel. What are my emotions next to what I’m supposed to be feeling? I must just be broken a little bit. I’ll just ignore them. And so, caught up in supposed to’s and shoulds, we let the lies of the world leak into our own morality and reality. We diminish what our hearts tell us as illogical or irrational, unworthy of notice. We try to find our path using another’s moral compass, which never works to keep us on our own true North no matter how well-intentioned.

Mark my words: if we never understand and value our emotions and instincts for the value they provide, we will never arrive at a place of lasting happiness. We will forever be led astray by the demands of a world who wish us to change a little bit here, compromise a little bit there, and then tries to convince us that it was all our idea. The truth of who we are will vanish in the mists.

How many gay people have been led astray by self-deception? How many were convinced that they couldn’t be gay because, well, good people weren’t gay. How many got married because they weren’t gay, dammit! How many people stayed in a marriage of mutual anger and mistrust because they really love me deep down? How many lives were left in wreckage when they hit the cold, hard icebergs of truth, far off course from where they wanted to be and feeling desperately alone? Deception is damaging, and self-deception no less so just because we’ve convinced ourselves, too

I’ve brought a couple other concepts into this sermon: truth and lies. They’re relevant because of this: all lies create secrets of the truth. Yet the most powerfully secret is not the one covered by the lie, but the one covered by stifling silence.

You know the secret I’m referencing. It’s what we don’t talk about, or what the children don’t need to know, or even worse too revolting to put words around. It’s judgmental silence, a deliberate omission, the censorship marker across the pages of memory.

LGBT people know it all too well. It’s all the times you’re not told about Oscar Wilde’s persecution when reading “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” in Lit class, while you’re given full account of Lord Byron’s (straight) romances. It’s the yawning chasm where LGBT relationships should be on television. In families, it’s the places where you’re not asked how your partner is doing. Thankfully these moments are becoming less common in our society as a whole, because they’re worse than lies.

Lies tell you that you’re wrong. Judgmental silence tells you that you shouldn’t exist. Lies tell you a path is wrong. Silence blocks the fact that the path is even there. Lies stab you in the heart. Silence demands that you stab yourself. The truth can destroy a lie simply by existing. Silence swallows a truth, leaving only ignorance.

The deafening silence on LGBT issues in some communities is unforgivable, damaging many people for their entire lives, stunting them or driving them to suicide. But what about a more common reason?

I mentioned in the beginning of my sermon that my aunt was sexually abused by her father while a child. The evils perpetuated on her were abetted by the deafening silence of a mother who knew, neighbors who probably suspected, and a society that wouldn’t believe even if they were told.

My aunt, who I greatly respect, had a life filled with those silences. She got pregnant in high school and was forced to give birth in a convent, then shipped home to pretend like nothing had happened. She married a physically abusive man who started sexually abusing her daughters.

I respect her for what happened next: she filed for divorce and a restraining order, supported her children through custody and criminal proceedings that lasted for years, and made a firm decision to break the cycle of abuse.

Today her daughters call Charlene “the queen of over-sharing”, because she knows what silence can do and made a personal decision to avoid it whenever possible. It’s only through her that I actually learned any of this. My father  and uncle maintain their absolute silence to this day.

But I only learned because I sought the information out, because I knew that something was behind so much of the crazy family dysfunctions I grew up experiencing. Which is a silence that even my aunt, a woman of great intent and stubbornness, has fallen into. My father inherited it as the silence of “what good would it do?” My aunt knows it as the silence of “best if it dies with me”. Either way it’s the most well-intentioned silence in the world. From scalp to shoe sole, two good people not saying something for what they believe are good reasons. It calls out to us in the siren voice of “putting the bad behind”.

The voice is wrong.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Santayana made it a cliché. The truth at the center of it remains no matter how often it’s repeated. Abuse begets abusers, victims and cycle-breakers. Abusers and victims require silence to perpetrate the cycle. Cycle-breakers end the silence. My aunt was a cycle-breaker. I’m sure if she thought one of her family was being sexually abused, Charlene would’ve charged in and done her level best to end it. In that limited scope, she was strong.

But my life is evidence of the dangers in even complacent silence. Every one of her siblings knew they had been wounded, so they desperately tried to create a happy, happy, HAPPY family where their kids wouldn’t have to deal with that. Smiles that looked like grimaces, Christmas photos carefully orchestrated, and pleasant chatter about nothing consequential filled my childhood.

They were another form of silence trying to construct perfection (or at least eccentricity) over the secret of deep pain. And because I grew up believing that my family didn’t experience deep pain and suffering, what was I supposed to think the time my brother choked me until I passed out? When he kicked in my bedroom door? When he threatened to beat my head in with a golf club? When my parents stood by powerless? Was I supposed to believe that others would understand? Or that myself and my immediate family were freaks and aberrations who had to suffer together, alone?

I know now what message my extended family wanted to send, but the desperate perfection they broadcast into my brain left no room for moments of horrid, embarrassingly personal pain. So rather than hurt that image that we all so obviously cared deeply about, I hurt myself. I crippled myself emotionally in ways that I’m still coming to terms with.

I say this not for sympathy, but as a warning. Was I sexually abused? No. Was another cousin, who currently struggles with alcohol and drug addictions? Not to my knowledge. Would the story of what happened to our aunt have done us any direct good? Not exactly.

But by not sharing, by having this illusion wrapped around us for our own good, we the damaged ones were made the freaks in our family. We both would’ve been better-served to have seen at least some of the wounds secreted in the people who wanted to be there to support us. We didn’t need paragons on a pedestal. We needed human adults who had suffered and survived. We needed role models, not demi-gods.

Even if your story isn’t so dramatic, the world needs it. If your nephew is “too young” to know that his uncle or aunt is gay, you’re denying them a chance to see a human being worthy of respect.

If your grandfather is “too old” to know about your partner, then he’ll never know how much joy you’ve managed to find. If you pooped your pants in grade school, that’s even a story someone could benefit from hearing.

Sharing your true self, flaws and all, invites the same from those around you. Offering up your own pain can show you’re not afraid for others to show theirs.

If you talk to a granddaughter about healthy relationships and disclose the significant other who beat you up in college, you’re not just opening an avenue of trust for her to talk to you about where a black eye really came from.

You’re showing her that you’re not uncomfortable with hard conversations. You’re building a relationship of trust where she can disclose that she’s pregnant, or a lesbian, or would prefer to be called Kyle. Secrets are designed to put us up in the shrine of who we think we should be, untouchable and utterly useless in the real world. Truths put us back down on the ground, dirty and hurt humans who strive to be better but fall on our faces. Touchable to others. Sometimes petty, often preoccupied and distracted, but also compassionate, empathetic, and striving creatures who are more Christlike than any marble statue could hope to be.

Yet here we mostly sit in silent, inscrutable secrecy. And not without reason. Even when we decide to share of ourselves, the world makes it desperately difficult. Society is just so damn polite about secrets. It begs you to stop talking with every uncomfortable glance away. Every shifting in a chair. Every cough. Yes, even in this room. Even in a Gathering of people who say we desire open and honest dialogue. I’ve been complicit in it as much as anybody else. How many times have we all created a space that screams “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

And, even worse, how many times have you or someone you loved shared a painful secret only to have all your listeners suffer amnesia? It’s the infamous long pause between “I was raped two years ago” and “Wasn’t that movie we saw yesterday just great?” We’re messing with the script and, just like in a play, society is desperately granting us every permission to get back on dialogue. Because ad libbing and being fully present with another human is hard.

It would be deeply ironic if I kept secret a time when we as a church did this, because it might make us a little uncomfortable. And I hope everyone here can accept this story in the spirit of understanding how far each and every one of us has to go. A few weeks ago, Doug Slagle started his sermon series on money with a powerful discussion of the moral and ethical value of wealth.

In the comments afterward, Ken Cunningham spoke tearfully and at length about how much he and his husband John were suffering from the struggle of keeping their business and personal lives afloat. I was in the room that day and the discomfort was so thick you could’ve chiseled in it.

To my eyes, it seemed as though the energy was trying to squeeze the poor man’s lips shut. And when Ken, a man who stays til the bitter end of every coffee hour, fled immediately after the service, how many of us went in private to try and ease his obvious sorrow? And how many of us simply thought we were doing him a favor if we never brought it up again?

I don’t know. I simply ask you to reflect on what, if anything, you were feeling in that moment. And to reflect on the power our social and emotional pressure can bring to bear.

The world does no favors for those who would violate the comforts of secrecy. It will push every one of us to believe that we should really “wait for the right time” which never comes. When is there ever going to be a right time for sharing awkward, even horrible, moments with each other? The present moment is the rightest time we’re ever going to find to tell the powerful truths that matter most for us to say and others to hear.

The world will give little thanks. There will be very few pats on the back for saying what others wish us to omit. That’s not the point. If you’re waiting for the world to give you a medal, you won’t have lived a life worthy of one. We have it in our hands and on our tongues to rise above the rules of shame and reach out to our better angels.

By speaking your secrets and freeing your truths, bonds of genuine trust can be formed to last the years. By sitting determined in the moment when someone else shares their hard pains, the moments when there is no Miss Manners reply, by sitting in those moments with a spirit of deep love, respect and compassion, we reward bravery. We leave open the door to more honest pain and discomfort, even anger, but also to support, love, euphoria and revelation towards each other.

And that’s really the end point of sharing and receiving secrets, I suppose. A world where no one shares their true reality is a world where we never grow. A world where we stay within the comfortable borders is not a world. It’s a prison. A zoo. A world where we cannot accept the secrets of others is a world where we set limits on how close others can really get. We hedge them into the comfortable place where we now understand them, blocking ourselves from the unexpected joys and lovely uniqueness that’s really out there, content with our shallow, gray understanding of a technicolor world.

I end my little sermon with the challenge I ask the world to give back to me every day: to open the book of our lives, hearts and minds and read from them in bold, loving voices. Without edits or abridgments from shame or discomfort. Because each secret held inside diminishes the richness in our souls, turning us further into craven caricatures that learn nothing, help no one. And each truth let out deepens our lives, teaches us where to strive, and invites the world to walk a little easier on our path, for the witness of another mere human who made it before.

As is customary, I’d like to break the silence now and ask you to share your truths.

Prayer

Creator and ultimate truth, we ask you to help us connect with each other in bonds of truth and love. We pray that you open our hearts to hear the secrets that the world would share with us, and soften the hearts of others to understand our own. We hope that by such examples, wounds in ourselves, our communities and our planet may be healed, and peace may be found. To you we lift up this prayer, and the prayers to follow.