The history of evil: a sermon

THE HISTORY OF EVIL
By Rev. Kit Ketcham, Oct. 25, 2009

I was sitting at my computer on Tuesday morning of this past week, thinking about this sermon, hoping to set down a few lines before I went off to my first appointment of the day. I like to use the homiletic device noted by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said in his Divinity School Address, which was delivered to the senior class at Harvard, on July 15, 1838: "The true preacher can be known by this, that he deals out to the people his life---life passed through the fire of thought." Emerson was talking about boring preachers at the time and advising these new guys to put the fire of their own lives into their message..

Of course, Emerson had no idea that 160 years later, a “she” would be taking his advice! But I do like to share with you how I have discovered certain insights in my spiritual life, and nothing about our topic today was coming to mind last Tuesday.

So I called my sister, she of the creative memory, who tends to describe our childhood escapades in the most dramatic ways (and they’re often my fault, in her eyes), and asked her to tell me when she thought we Ketcham kids began to be aware of evil. Seriously, Jean, I said.

We talked about how right and wrong are usually taught to children by the adults in our lives and are not necessarily the same thing as good and evil. It’s wrong to cross the street without looking, but it’s not evil. There tend to be a lot of things, we noted, that are wrong without being evil; fewer, perhaps, that are right without being good. Right and wrong are influenced by culture, while good and evil have a more universal meaning.

In any case, my sister reminded me of a time when we were both teenagers, out in the generally peaceful Oregon hamlet of Athena, and the news came that a little girl named Sally, seven years old, had been raped while playing near the creek that runs through City Park. Sally was a child in our Sunday School and both Jean and I had babysat her.

The news was unthinkable. It was summer and the town was full of migrant workers so suspicion immediately jumped to that group of itinerant men who came through the town every year in search of harvest work. Though they occasionally got drunk and had to be hauled off to the town jail and often panhandled at back doors across town, sexual assault had not, to our knowledge, ever taken place at their hands.

No one was ever arrested and convicted for the assault; I don’t know whether little Sally ever received any therapy or assistance or whether she still suffers from those psychic and physical wounds. But even then, we recognized this offense as not only wrong, but evil. The fear engendered by this news infected my life for some considerable period of time after that summer and I was nervous about being around men I didn’t know for a long time, an extension of that one act which affected my life then and, to some extent, even now.

We were World War II babies, born during the last years of the second War we hoped would End All War. We knew nothing of the Holocaust until we were of an age to understand that millions of innocent people had been deliberately killed at the hands of the Nazis and that millions more citizens of countries around the world had died during that conflict.

As Peggy and I talked about this service, we exchanged our early memories, discovering that both of us had received advice about right and wrong, good and evil, from our church. Both our sets of parents were devout Christians---hers were Methodist, mine were Baptist. We learned the 10 Commandments in Sunday School and the story of the Garden of Eden and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

The Holocaust turned out to be a turning point for each of us. How could human beings do this to each other? And how could anyone stand by and watch? The specter of war conflicted with the specter of moral evil in that moment. Could we U.S. citizens remain neutral as a nation under these circumstances? And then, of course, we found out we could not.

What seems to be the difference between natural evil and moral evil? Here’s one definition: Moral evil results from a perpetrator, one who intentionally inflicts the evil. Natural evil has only victims, and is generally taken to be the result of natural processes. The "evil" thus identified is evil only from the perspective of those affected and who perceive it as an affliction. Examples include cancer, tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and other phenomena which inflict suffering... Such phenomena inflict "evil" on victims, but with no human perpetrator to blame for it.

Of course, as our knowledge of cause and effect grows, we have come to understand that human failings and misdeeds often contribute to natural evil: pesticides and harmful chemicals contribute to cancer; poorly constructed buildings fall in earthquakes, taking human lives; overuse of resources and inattention to climate change has resulted in devastating wildfires and drought. So, though natural disaster inflicts damage upon human lives and property, human ignorance and willfulness also contribute to that damage and increase the sense of outrage among victims.

What is the origin of evil in human life? Let me read to you the words from the Hebrew scriptures which tell the legend of the creation of humankind and the awareness of evil: this is excerpted from Genesis 2/3.

In the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens, 5 when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up--… 7 then the LORD God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. 8 And the LORD God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man whom he had formed.

9 Out of the ground the LORD God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

15 The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. 16 And the LORD God commanded the man, "You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; 17 but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die."
(In between these two passages, the first woman is created, according to the legend.)

(Genesis 3) Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, "Did God say, 'You shall not eat from any tree in the garden'?" 2 The woman said to the serpent, "We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; 3 but God said, 'You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.'"

4 But the serpent said to the woman, "You will not die; 5 for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."
6 So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.

7 Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves. 8 They heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden.

9 But the LORD God called to the man, and said to him, "Where are you?" 10 Adam said, "I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself." 11 God said, "Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?"

12 The man said, "The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate." 13 Then the LORD God said to the woman, "What is this that you have done?" The woman said, "The serpent tricked me, and I ate."

14 The LORD God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, cursed are you among all animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. 15 I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel."

16 To the woman he said, "I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you."
17 And to the man he said, "Because you have listened to the voice of your wife, and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you… cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; 18 thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. 19 By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

From this ancient story, one of many creation stories that abound in cultures worldwide, has come the longstanding Christian doctrine of original sin, that human beings in the Garden of Eden disobeyed God, as a result of their own willfulness, and therefore were condemned to lifelong punishment in the form of endless work for the man, painful childbirth for the woman, and expulsion from the beautiful garden of Eden.

Their rebellious response to a warning by the Lord God caused the legendary “Fall of Man”, the original deed which, according to traditional Christian doctrine, started humankind down the primrose path of wrongdoing.

What do Unitarian Universalists do with this story? Our Christian and Judaic roots invite us to take it seriously but our knowledge of science and our devotion to reason cause us to run it through the filters of deeper understanding that science and reason offer and help us see it through the lens of metaphor.

We see that human beings do have to work to survive, do have to endure painful childbirth, must struggle to maintain a place to live, and we are rebellious by nature. (And we tend to distrust snakes!)

If you and I were Adam and Eve in the garden, chances are we’d do the same thing, being as how we crave knowledge and understanding. In fact, it would occur to us to wonder later if God set us up for a test, wondering if we’d succumb to the temptation. If He didn’t, you have to wonder how much He knew about human nature, even as He created it. Blame it on Free Will, I guess.

And what is Free Will? Well, in the religious realm, free will implies that an omnipotent God does not assert its power over individual will and choices. In ethics, it implies that individuals can be held morally accountable for their actions. So are we to blame for our own actions of evil or can we blame someone else?

Enter Satan, the serpent, the “Twinkie” defense. And out of the mélange of good excuses and bad ones, we humans struggle to sort out reasons why human beings often behave in inhumane ways.

I’ll tell you what I think. And your experience and reasoning may lead you to different results. Goodness knows, there are hundreds of scholarly and popular books and essays which deal with the problem of evil in the world and a myriad of questions and issues to consider: why do bad things happen to good people? Does evil human behavior come from genetic causes or from upbringing? What should be our response to evil acts by others? How can we resist the temptation to hurt others when we’re angry?

How can we help repair the damage done by evil acts? Are good and evil found in equal measure within our own psyches? Are atheists more likely to commit evil acts? Why has so much evil been perpetrated by religious groups? It wouldn’t be surprising if we do reach different conclusions on the many questions of evil.

But here’s what I think and I realize that I can’t possibly cover the whole waterfront in one sermon! Or even in 1000!

I see a continuum of wrongdoing that stretches from minor misdeeds on the one hand to major catastrophic actions on the other, from swiping a candy bar at the grocery story to assuage a physical or emotional hunger pang to killing one or more persons out of anger or greed or revenge. And on this continuum there are thousands of stopping places, degrees of wrong-doing that crescendo into violence toward others.

I’ve always been someone who looks underneath the surface facts to figure out why something happens, and the bedrock I find underneath acts of wrongdoing, whether minor or major, that bedrock is self-preservation, the will to survive, the will to put one’s own survival above that of others.

And that will to survive is shaped by our early experiences AND our genetic makeup. Whether by early violence in one’s life or negative teachings or lack of emotionality, it can be shaped in such a way that fear for survival is one’s first reaction to the events of one’s life.

Who knows what Hitler’s early life was like? Whatever it might have been, whether violent or neglectful or any other shaping kind of experience, it did not justify his actions toward the Jews, the homosexuals, the gypsies, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the disabled, the trade unionists, the many other nationalities who were imprisoned and killed during the Holocaust. The final toll of the Holocaust was closer to 25 million people, including six million Jews.

Something motivated Hitler to act as he did, seeking to exterminate all those who threatened his idea of a safe society, a society in which he alone had the power, a society in which there were no threats to his survival. The Holocaust is our gold standard for pure evil and the motivations of people like Hitler and his minions will never be fully understood.

As for Unitarian Universalists generally, we tend not to believe that a person is born and enslaved in the manner that the doctrine of Original Sin teaches. We believe that people are born innocent and that life shapes them for good or evil. We believe that all humans have inherent worth and dignity and that it is our job to respect and protect that worth and dignity. That’s our motivation for our social justice efforts, as well.

We have no quick doctrine-based answers to explain evil, pain and suffering, and the fact that life can be hellish at times. We’re optimistic about human nature, but most of us acknowledge there is a broken, fragmented or fallen side to humanity, and in each of our lives. We know it’s there and we try not to give in to it but to mitigate its effects on human lives.

In closing, I’d like to read something Peggy gave me from the work entitled “Spoon River Anthology” by Edgar Lee Masters. The character whose words these are is Seth Compton, the sponsor of the small library in Spoon River, a library which caused much controversy because of its selection of reading material, a common affliction for libraries which continues even today.

SETH COMPTON:

WHEN I died, the circulating library
Which I built up for Spoon River,
And managed for the good of inquiring minds,
Was sold at auction on the public square,
As if to destroy the last vestige
Of my memory and influence.
For those of you who could not see the virtue
Of knowing Volney's "Ruins" as well as Butler's "Analogy"
And "Faust" as well as "Evangeline,"
Were really the power in the village,
And often you asked me
"What is the use of knowing the evil in the world?"
I am out of your way now, Spoon River,
Choose your own good and call it good.
For I could never make you see
That no one knows what is good
Who knows not what is evil;
And no one knows what is true
Who knows not what is false.

Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and prayer.

BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering that, as we obey our instinct for self-preservation, as all animals do, we also have a higher, a human obligation to preserve the lives of others, for we do not live within a vacuum. We are not separate from others and when we affect others’ lives for altruistic or for selfish reasons, we affect our own lives as well. May we seek to do good, not evil in the world. May we examine our deeds and atone for those which have hurt others, while rejoicing at those which have helped others. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Fall Retreat coming up!

The first couple of months of the new church year are always crammed full of activities and start-up events. I estimated that in September, I put in 120 hours, a full 40 above and beyond the 80 a half-time person should be working. It was an exciting time, with lots happening in the church, a UU 101 class to organize and teach, visitors' dinner, a new board to help shape, that sort of thing. In October it has been somewhat less busy, but not much. I'm sure I will have put in at least 100 hours by the end of the month.

Because of all the time spent on ministry, on stuff that really needed to be done and needed me to do it, I have not had as much time for music or other fun stuff and I've been feeling it. I even had a very brief episode of BPPV (benign paroxysmal positional vertigo) and realized that this only happens when I've stretched myself too thin. Fortunately a little meclizine always takes care of it fairly promptly and I haven't had a serious episode since I was in seminary, over ten years ago.

But it underscores my need for a time of rest, so I'm ever so glad that tonight I will be with colleagues at Palisades for our fall retreat. I'm looking forward to sleeping without cats, without having to shoo them off the bed when I can't stand being pinned down any longer, without having to get up at 5 a.m. to feed them so they'll quit whining. I love them, but gee whiz! I need a break.

The plan is to let Max be outside while I'm gone; the catsitting crew will let him in or out depending on his request, will feed him on the deck if necessary, and my hope is that he will be less crazed by the time I get back on Wednesday afternoon. (And that no beds will have been peed upon. I'm going to put the tarps over the beds anyhow, just in case.)

I will post today's sermon later on today but may not post again for a few days.

An Ode to Charles Darwin in this 150th year since "The Origin of Species" hit the streets.

BIRTHDAY ODE TO DARWIN


(to the tune of "Battle Hymn of the Republic")

words © 2008 R. L. Smith



Mine eyes have seen the glory of Charles Darwin, born today.

(He is buried in the Abbey of Westminster, by the way,)

He was greeted by the fundamentalists with much dismay,

His theory marches on!



REFRAIN:
Glory, glory evolution!

Darwin's elegant solution!

This is Darwin's contribution,

His theory marches on!



On the poop deck of the Beagle, Charles was borne across the sea,

And he found in the Galapagos, a new discovery.

The finches helped Charles Darwin have a new epiphany,

His theory marches on!



REFRAIN



He started out at Edinburgh, and then to Cambridge, too,

Then his "natural selection" was a theory that was new.

"The Origin of Species" can explain both me and you,

His theory marches on!



REFRAIN



*A change within the White House now that we can toast with drink,

Just because we have a President who actually can think.

The previous inhabitant was just a missing link.

And Darwin marches on!


REFRAIN



*Note: Consistent with evolutionary process, the last verse of this song is 
meant to be periodically re-written to evolve to fit a changing world.



*Original 2008 verse: 


George Bush is now the President, 
whom we should not malign,

Also, now we know he has a 
purpose practically divine:

The Ultimate in proof 
against "intelligent design"!

And Darwin marches on!



Beyond the red boots...

Kimc's question on the red boots post recently initially made me feel a little defensive when all I wanted to do was to enjoy my red boots and underscore the Western tradition of wearing one's pants legs OUTSIDE the boots. But s/he got me thinking about costumes and how virtually everything we choose to put on our bodies represents something in our lives, whether that's a conscious decision or not. Thanks, Kimc, for that nudge and for being a catalyst to deeper thinking, even though I wasn't ready to do it at the time.

Yesterday was a long, challenging day, ending late (for me) at night with my having volunteered to be the congregational host at a Zikr which followed an interfaith peace event. I had never attended any Sufi dancing, except for the variation called Dances of Universal Peace, which isn't really Sufi but incorporates many traditions in sacred dance.



I had decided that I would just watch this event, though we were all invited to participate at whatever level we wished, but I wanted to watch and think because my initial reaction, at meeting the folks who came, was that they were mostly in costume: long skirts, tunics, hats or scarves for many of the women, and for several of the men long white skirts, dark vests, and long caps.

As I sat and watched and thought about why these mostly-young men and women would dress up as they did and spend two hours chanting, moving slowly through steps and arm movements, in an ancient ritual that is not native to most of us, I had a variety of responses, beginning in a negative place and moving from that space into a bigger place.

Nearly everyone in the Zikr, except for the leader and a couple of younger folks, was of northern European stock, yet nearly all those participating consider themselves to be Sufi in their religious practice. They had come from all over Western Washington for this event, which was a demonstration of "turning", the dance of the whirling dervish. The turning occurred within the community dance circle and was startlingly beautiful.



I felt captivated by the turning, amazed that the dancers could whirl for long periods of time without dizziness or apparent weariness. I asked one woman later how she did that and learned that it is a discipline, to be still at one's core, like the center of a child's top. The long skirts of the turners (aka "whirling dervishes") flared out in graceful circles as they spun---in serene ecstasy, or so it seemed.

My discomfort at the apparent "dress-up" nature of the clothing began to fade as the evening went on. I still wonder why we humans are so attracted sometimes to religious rituals which are not native to our own heritage (Native American, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Sufi) and that's a post for another day. But I came to see the clothing in a new light, as I realized that every time I select my own clothing for the day I do it in response to the activities of the day.

Everything I wear is a costume; it is just that my costumes tend to be more conventional than others' choices! The Favorite Son and his Beloved are members of the Empire of Chivalry and Steel, a Renaissance re-enactment group, and wear costumes of the Renaissance era. They have a wonderful time at it and have learned more about medieval history than I'll ever know. In their group, they act as King and Queen of the Realm, having been duly chosen by their comrades, and their royal garb is quite attractive.

But Kimc questioned the word "affected" and I've realized that I used this word to describe my sense of disconnect between conventional costumes and costumes selected to play a role. That's probably not fair! Why should my conventional costumes and my choice of red boots be any less "affected" than a dervish's swirling skirts (or a fashionista with fancy boots and tucked-in pants)? I guess it's a continuum of choice and my judgment doesn't matter a hill of beans! Thanks, Kimc, for the shift in perspective!

Red Cowboy Boots

I have red cowboy boots, ordered from the new Norm Thompson catalog, boots which I will mostly wear for Bayview Sound gigs, since they fit our "American roots" image and repertoire, but I will also wear them to feel like the cowgirl I used to be.

When I told the band about ordering them, they insisted that if they were that purty (that's the cowgirl spelling) I should wear my pants tucked in so the decorative stitching could be seen. We had a big argument about this, as I was adamant that real cowgirls NEVER tuck their pantslegs inside their boots. I am not a dude!

They weren't convinced, so I discussed it with the Athena Pals, Mary Alice especially. She still lives in Pendleton and attends RoundUp every year and is one of the editors of the new 100th Anniversary of the RoundUp cookbook, entitled "Beyond the Bull". They wanted to see a picture, so I sent them the one you see above.

We were agreed that real cowgirls don't wear their pantslegs tucked in because it looks affected, but Mary Alice allowed as how some modern cowgirl fashionistas DO tuck, if the boots are really fancy.

I will be interested to hear what folks like Lizard Eater and other real Westerners have to say about it, but my mind is pretty well made up. Cowgirls wear their jeans OVER their boot-tops.

Here's the deal: I was born in a small town in Washington, lived in Portland OR for awhile, and then moved with my family out to the small north-eastern Oregon town of Athena, where I spent the next nine years of my life riding horses in the fields and along the unpaved streets of town, driving a truck in pea harvest and wheat harvest, and attending a high school where my graduating class numbered barely 20.

Going to small liberal arts Linfield College south of Portland was a huge shift in consciousness for me because of the wide world of thought it opened up, but never ever did I lose my sense of being a small-town Western girl.

When I had a chance to choose which American Baptist Home Mission field I wanted to serve after college graduation, I asked for Denver, unable to fathom a home where I couldn't see real mountains, even though the Rockies didn't look like the mountains I was used to. Real mountains were formed by volcanos, not accidents of geology.

When I studied for the ministry and had a chance to choose the geographical location I wanted, I specified Oregon or Washington, again unable to fathom a home without mountains or water. Colorado had pretty well dried me out and I needed to re-hydrate, both literally and figuratively.

It's always been clear to me that the Pacific Northwest is different from all other areas of the country. It's Western, for sure, but it's also unique in its attitude toward life. Ways of being on the East Coast sometimes seem ridiculous in the PNW. I get the New York Times, and I love it for its news coverage but am astounded at what I see culturally. It would just seem so affected out here.

Many people who relocate to the Pacific Northwest from areas east of the Rockies need to recalibrate who they are in this country which challenges the landlocked midwesterner and the cultural attitudes of the eastern and southern states. The water, the rain, the ocean, the Sound, the trees, the underbrush, the volcanos, the adventurous spirit this land requires: if you grow up here, you will rarely be truly happy anywhere else.

For all the years of my marriage to a midwesterner who adopted Colorado as his home, I wanted to come back to my birthplace. When we divorced, I considered moving then, but it would not have been fair to him or to the Favorite Son. But when ministry called, it was my ticket home.

So back to the red cowboy boots: I think I'll wear them today.

A letter to the editor of the South Whidbey Record

To the Editor of the South Whidbey Record:

Our ballots have begun to arrive in mailboxes all over our area and at this critical time in our history, I ask all voters to consider carefully the significance of their vote, the meaning of the act of voting, and the importance of considering the outcomes of this act.

Our individual votes mean a great deal; together, they shape the trajectory of this country, this state, this county. Though one vote in itself may not seem important, together we make the decisions that empower and distinguish us as a democratic nation. Therefore, I urge us all to VOTE.

When we cast our ballots, we take each others’ lives in our hands, in a sense. Successful and unsuccessful candidates for office find their lives and responsibilities changed. Referenda and initiatives also change people’s lives. If we vote one way, we may better our own lives but trash someone else’s. If we vote another, we may improve others’ lives but may have to adjust to changes in society. Therefore, I urge us all to VOTE TO IMPROVE OTHERS’ LIVES.

As we consider the possible outcomes of this year’s election issues, we need to realize that we have the power, through our votes, to hurt people, to diminish their standard of living, to declare them unequal under the law, to debase their relationships, to deny them compensation for their commitment to each other, to call them second-class citizens. A democratic society is committed to equal rights for all citizens. Therefore, I urge us all to VOTE TO APPROVE REFERENDUM 71 and ensure the safety and legitimacy of domestic partnerships, both same sex and senior couples.

Sincerely,

Rev. Elizabeth “Kit” Ketcham
Minister, Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Whidbey Island

Chinese Food for Breakfast...

is a favorite treat but that I am having it on a Tuesday morning instead of Monday shows you just how atypical my life has been lately. It means that I went over to the Chinese place for supper last night instead of Sunday night. Sunday night I just stayed home and ate leftovers because I didn't have the energy to go anywhere else; a chunk of lasagna that had languished in the freezer for several weeks and apple salad that needed to be consumed or dumped--that was the menu.

Monday I had only one scheduled thing on my calendar, a meeting with J who is the instigator of the local Veterans Resource Center. J wanted to brainstorm about ways she might connect with the community and the congregation and share a cuppa. That was to be at noonish, which left me time to make a hasty run afterwards overtown to the big mall and do a little retail therapy.

Since moving to the island three and a half years ago, I have slipped into a pattern of wearing makeup only on Sundays (or when I might see someone cute at a gathering), being most comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt (except for church biz when I do spruce up--well, usually), and wearing things till they're threadbare and falling apart or stained badly. Right now for example, I am wearing an ancient sweatshirt that I got at the 1995 General Assembly; its cuffs are just about gone, the design (Celebrate Diversity) is only half-there, and it's got bleach spots down the sleeve. It's paired with sweat pants that are equally shabby.

Of course, I don't go ANYWHERE but to the newspaper box down the driveway in this outfit; I do have some sense. And when I go down the drive to get the paper, it's 5:30 a.m. Not too many people out and about at that point, except for the drivers hurtling down the road to get to an early ferry. They're not interested in my sartorial sense and neither am I.

But last year I started growing out my hair and working to achieve a softer look. When I had eye problems and stopped wearing contacts, I noticed that the frames of my specs were actually very becoming, and decided that my wardrobe needed a little boost as well. Hence the retail therapy.

There aren't many places on the island where one can find what I was looking for (basic long-sleeved tees with a scoop neck), so I hied myself over to Lynnwood's Alderwood Mall and Coldwater Creek, where they have exactly what I was looking for, in deep purple, hot pink, white and black.

This may not seem very exciting to you, but they are just what I need right now to work with other stuff I've collected over the past few months. I've been haunting the thrift and consignment stores around here and picking up a few things, trying to move beyond the sloppy shirt and jeans motif that has been my fall-back position recently. I read "Beauty Tips for Ministers" sometimes, but the differences between PeaceBang's world and mine are vast. Still, her reminder that we clergywomen need to be attentive to the message we send with our appearance is a valuable one.

Okay, where was I? I've wandered off topic. Oh yes, an atypical life lately. What did I mean by that anyhow? I've been preoccupied with a different kind of life this fall, one which brings new projects and ideas but also areas of concern and anxiety. Yesterday J mentioned that Mercury is in retrograde or some such, which I don't understand except to get the message that things are in turmoil everywhere: deaths, anxieties, conflicts, uproar, dissension, moodiness, change change change.

Yep, that I do get.

What is Human Nature?

WHAT IS HUMAN NATURE?
By the Rev. Kit Ketcham, Oct. 11, 2009

What is human nature? Does anyone have a quickie definition for the term “human nature”?

Your definitions are much like the ones I found when I did a little research, rather than seat-of-the-pantsing it like I often do. And I found this rather old-fashioned but still worthy description of the term Human Nature. In 1947, authors Frank and Lydia Hammer, in their essay of the same name wrote this:

Human nature is the basis of character, the temperament and disposition; it is that indestructible matrix upon which the character is built, and whose shape it must take and keep throughout life. This we call a person's nature.

The basic nature of human beings does not and cannot change. It is only the surface that is capable of alteration, improvement and refinement; we can alter only people's customs, manners, dress and habits. A study of history reveals that the people who walked this earth in antiquity were moved by the same fundamental forces, were swayed by the same passions, and had the same aspirations as the men and women of today. The pursuit of happiness still engrosses (humankind) the world over.

Actually, when I think about it, a better statement of the question might be “What is human nature and what should we do about it?” because the question underneath the definition always seems to be the question of change: how do we deal with the cultural and personal and societal conflicts that arise when we encounter the many permutations of and opinions about so-called “human nature”?

So what are those innate characteristics of human beings that all possess permanently, that indestructible matrix? Can we agree on those? That’s a stickier question and one that is influenced by the culture we live in. Depending on which philosopher or theologian you choose, human nature may be anything from gender to race to sexual orientation and beyond, may be inherently sinful or good or both. And some things which we have historically assumed were or were not facets of human nature have been redefined during our lifetime.

Culture and experience shape our perceptions of human nature. In one cultural group, say a conservative evangelical congregation, sexual orientation is NOT a basic facet of human nature; it is a learned or chosen behavior only and the Bible says it’s bad.

These folks have been convinced by the ancient purity laws in the Old Testament and by the fact that they don’t know anybody who is BGLT. Or at least they think they don’t.
In our congregation and in many other liberal religious groups, sexual orientation is innate and unchangeable. We respect the findings of science and also our own experience----we know people who are BGLT and they are just like us in most ways. We are also pretty well aware that our sexual orientation is not changeable; why should anyone else’s be? And the truth is that most human beings seem to land somewhere on a continuum of sexual orientation.

What about gender? We are born with certain gender characteristics and plumbing that identify us on the surface as male or female, but what does that mean? Science has discovered that virtually all males have a certain amount of female hormones in their bodies and virtually all females have a certain amount of male hormones. So is gender a facet of human nature? If so, what about transgender or intersex people, who have genitals that don’t fit their self-image?

How about race? We used to think that race was innate and to some genetic extent it is, but it is also a cultural matter. Witness the situation in our US history when if you had one iota of African blood you were black.

Or how about those Caucasoids who are white but are now termed Latino or Latina? I remember when someone called my former husband a Mongolian because he has distinctive eyefolds similar to Asian eyelids. But he is Scots-Irish through and through!

Yet some characteristics of humankind are deeply embedded enough that they are seemingly unchangeable. Our genetic and chromosomal structures shape our human nature at a deep level; we inherit certain traits from our ancestors, yet even these can be diluted or strengthened as they are passed along in our children. Dominant and recessive genes intermingle in our makeup and create individuals who are similar in some ways and very different in others.

Authorities mostly agree that there are certain biological traits that separate humankind from other animals: an expanded consciousness, for one; a mind that is capable of growing infinitely. But how important is it to separate us humans from the rest of the natural world? Our 7th principle of Unitarian Universalism acknowledges that we are a part of the interdependent web of existence, not separate from it.

Human nature, whatever it may ultimately prove to be as science and philosophy struggle with its definition, acts upon our culture, our religion, and our politics. It is the indestructible matrix upon which we build our character, according to the Hammer essay I read earlier.

Character. Hmmm. Our Unitarian ancestors felt that human beings were saved by character, not by belief but by attitudes and deeds of mercy and kindness. Here’s what my colleague the Rev. Steve Edington has written about it:

This phrase meant the Unitarians believed we have the resources within ourselves, we have the strength of character, to deliver ourselves--at least to some extent in this life--from alienation and brokenness.... It’s a very positive expression of human potential and human possibility. It’s an affirmation that we carry within ourselves the wellsprings of courage and hope that allow us to be re-born any number of times during our time on earth.

So there appears to be a dividing line between human nature and character. What is truly innate and what is shaped by environment? How is character developed if our innate nature is inborn? How is our character shaped by our experiences?

We have all seen examples in our own experience of human children who grew up in abusive circumstances and became loving, productive adults. We have all seen examples of human children who grew up in apparently ideal homes and became violent and cruel. It’s hard to sort out the factors that send a child down one path or another.

My father grew up one of seven children, a boy who received harsh punishment from his own father for his misdeeds, forced to participate in his dad’s moonshine business, and finally was separated from his family and sent to live with friends out West when his mother tried to save him from the danger.

Yet he became a man of great character and wisdom. The one time I can remember physical punishment from him, he experienced such remorse and horror at his own actions that I never got another spanking nor did my siblings, as far as I know. So we see human beings learning both good and bad behavior traits from both good and bad upbringings.

Our genetic blueprint embeds certain characteristics, both physical and instinctual. We are programmed to have certain drives: breathing, eating, drinking, sheltering, procreating, companionship.

Our most fundamental need of human beings is to survive, so we have an innate aggressiveness within us in order to stay alive. This innate survival instinct leads us to be wary of those who do not look like ourselves, to amass supplies of food, water, shelter, mates in order to survive.

The character we develop during our earlier lives helps us set aside our innate survival instinct in favor of a more altruistic approach to human living; we learn compassion, honesty, faithfulness, kindness, and acceptance of difference. But we’re often aware of that underlying wariness, that fear, that apprehension of danger in unfamiliar or threatening circumstances. And we always have to decide whether we will stand and face the unfamiliar or run from it.

In our current culture, many divisive issues revolve around the question of human nature. Our character determines where we fall on many of these questions: is race a matter of human nature or of culture? Is gender identity inborn or shaped by culture? Is one’s choice of love partner a response to an innate, inborn drive or to a cultural norm? Is a mentally-ill person driven by biology or by environmental factors or both? Do our criminals deserve one kind of justice because they are bad people or another kind of justice because they were treated badly as children? And what is justice for bad people or badly-treated people?

One particular and controversial issue of human nature is in my mind and heart today.

Today is National Coming Out Day across the United States. On this day, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and intersex persons are encouraged to make their sexual or gender orientation known to their friends and family and neighbors. Several national organizations, such as Dignity USA, the Human Rights Campaign, Equal Rights Washington and similar groups in other states offer legal help, emotional support, even financial support in the struggle for equal rights for sexual minorities.

The quest for equal human rights in our nation and elsewhere has been going on for a very long time. Too long. And there are ardent supporters on both sides of this particular quest, those who demand fairness in civic policies and protection from violence related to sexual and gender orientation and those who protest those policies of fairness and protection on the grounds that their Bibles call it an abomination.

One of the issues of that quest is Marriage Equality, the right to civil marriage for every committed couple. Though our WA legislature has voted to extend rights for domestic partners to same-sex couples and unmarried senior couples, the issue is on the ballot this November, at the request of a requisite number of voters who said “yeah, let’s vote on this issue and see what the people say”.

On the face of it, this looks like a reasonable premise. And some who signed the petitions for the referendum doubtless just want to see what the people say. But others do not trust people they don’t know or understand and are easily influenced to believe the worst of people they don’t know or understand.

Some call this behavior hate; I think it’s really more a matter of fear. We fear people who are different because of our innate drive to protect our own survival. Fear is behind this illegitimate, though legal, effort to vote on whether or not a group should have equal rights.

So you will have a chance when our ballots arrive in the next couple of weeks to vote YES or NO on the issue of civil rights for domestic partners, most of whom are gay and lesbian.

If you vote YES, you are voting to retain the domestic partner benefits law, which gives domestic partners virtually the same rights as civilly married partners: the right to survivor benefits, the right to be with a loved one in a health crisis, the right to make arrangements for a funeral for one’s partner or child, the right of inheritance of property, the right of custody for minor children, the right to visit one’s child’s teacher at school, along with many other benefits offered currently only to civilly married couples. And offered free, whereas same sex couples must pay large legal fees to accomplish the same thing.

If you vote NO, you are voting to repeal this law which gives so many equal rights to same-sex and senior couples.

This congregation has long been what is termed in UUism a Welcoming Congregation. This means that a few years ago we undertook an effort to understand what it means to be a sexual minority and to consider the issues of homophobia.

We learned that same-sex attraction is normal and is present everywhere in the world, in the realm of living things.

We learned that perhaps 10% of the human population is sexually attracted to persons of the same sex. It is pretty well accepted by scientists of all disciplines that sexual orientation is an innate quality in humankind.

We learned that hate crimes against gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender persons is on the rise and that fear is a near-constant companion for sexual minorities in some areas.

We also learned that it is pretty well accepted by those same scientists that gender identity is not necessarily tied to genitalia but to chemical interactions in the brain and body.

At the end of our 18 months of learning, we voted unanimously to become a Welcoming Congregation, changed our bylaws to reflect our desire to be open and welcoming to sexual minorities in all areas of congregational life, and began to think of ways to let our welcome be known.

Most of you know that after California voted to rescind the right of same sex couples to marry, we publicly declared that we would offer our sanctuary and my services to same sex couples on the island, to hold wedding ceremonies here free of charge. I have done one wedding ceremony for a couple and am looking forward to doing more. These are not civil marriages but marriages of the heart, recognizing the importance of sharing with friends and family the deep commitments humans make in marriage.

Character is the tool we use to make these kinds of decisions. Do we act in the direction of kindness and mercy or do we let our fears overrule our sense of fairness?

Our seven principles of Unitarian Universalism urge us to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, not just those who look like us or who are heterosexual or who are privileged in some way by race, by gender, by age.

Our seven principles invite us into relationships with each other that are compassionate, accepting, and encouraging, with justice and equity always at the forefront.

Our seven principles guide us in finding a spiritual path that is free and responsible, that honors our own conscience, that respects the democratic process but refuses to use it to legislate against innocent people.

Our seven principles offer us the vision of a world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all. And our seven principles remind us that we humans are one part of the interdependent web, that our behavior toward each other affects the balance of life on this planet, and that we have the power to enhance life for others, as well as ourselves, by our actions.

Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and prayer.

BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering our commitment to leading lives of honesty and integrity and compassion. May we act out our principles in our relationships with friends, family, and community, and in this way make the world a better place. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

What a great idea!

Wouldn't this be fun?

"Feminists Don't Have a Sense of Humor"

by Nellie McKay.



Feminists don't have a sense of humor
Feminists just want to be alone (boo-hoo)
Feminists spread vicious lies and rumor
They have a tumor on their funny bone

They say child molestation isn't funny
Rape and degradation's just a crime (lighten up, ladies)
Rampant prostitution, sex for money (what's wrong with that)
Can't these chicks do anything but whine

Dance break
Woo-hoo
(Take it off)

They say cheap objectification isn't witty, it's hot
Equal work and wages worth the fight (sing us a new one)
On demand abortion, every city (okay, but no gun control)
Won't these women ever get a life

Feminists don't have a sense of humor (poor Hilary)
Feminists and vegetarians
Feminists spread vicious lies and rumor
They're far too sensitive to ever be a ham
That's why these feminists just need to find a man

I'm Sarah Palin, and I approve this message

It's not that I have had nothing to say...

it's that there's too much to be said and no easy way to do it. If you read the recent sermon entitled "Bitterness, Forgiveness, and Life", you might guess that this sermon represents a whole lot of soul-searching and a growing awareness that when I preach forgiveness, I darn well need to be ready to offer forgiveness. And therein lies the rub.

As I gaze back over my life, there's no way to avoid seeing the bumps in my experience that represent people who made me angry at one time or another and the ones who still make me angry, even though I have not been in contact with them for years. I still resent the behavior of a number of people who hurt or let me down over the past 67 years. Some of them are dead or almost dead. I don't know the whereabouts of some of them.

It isn't a huge number of people, probably fewer than 5 or 6, but if I'm walking my talk, I would be free, or at least working on freedom, from the resentment attached to those old relationships. Writing the sermon gave me pause.

In my lonelier times, when I'm missing the presence of a loving man in my life, I brood over the ways my marriage to a self-described "outlaw" of sorts made me react with either suspicion or exaggerated trust to men I met, dooming healthy relationships with healthy men. So I beat myself up but also beat him up with my resentment, telling the cats all the things I wish I had told him. And not letting go of my anger for ages-old acts of neglect or disrespect means that I have that little set of videos always available in my head. What I want to do is acknowledge the gifts of the marriage (the FS, for one) and accept the rough edges (my fear of another failed relationship) and go on, not blaming him for my sorrow but moving through it.

But Forgiveness has another dimension, too, and it's hard. Corporate forgiveness is a tricky thing, when members of a community have been hurt by the actions of another in the community. Who forgives who? Who holds the space for healing and forgiveness to occur? How does a community legitimately ask a member of the community to wait patiently, hold anxiety in abeyance, and stay connected, despite the anxiety? When deep fears have been roused, old memories awakened, when the community wants to be comfortable together again but there are acts of contrition and acceptance that must occur first, what is the answer?

At our worship committee meeting yesterday, our chalice lighter read a meaningful passage which likened life's ups and downs to the waves of the sea, pointing out that between the high points of the waves, there is a trough of waiting, a place between the waves where it is necessary to be alert yet still, ready yet waiting. I've never been in a small boat in heavy water on the sea, but, boy, I know what it feels like.

"Home Sings me of Sweet Things..."

Karla Bonoff's "Home" keeps running through my mind in recent days. We're working on it for Bayview Sound's next performance, which is who knows when. We don't have a gig coming up very soon, though we're working on it.



As a renter, I don't have ownership of the place I live, except in my mind, though I am lucky enough to have landlords who want me to stay here forever. I can't afford to maintain a house on my current income so my wonderful landlords (who are moving to the island before long, from their home in California) are a true blessing. Don and Sheryl, wherever you are, I am grateful to you for your concern for this little house.

But "Home" certainly does sing me of sweet things: blackberry thickets at the edge of the property, acres of grass, big trees, lilacs, a tulip tree, an apple tree, a cherry, two plums, and a crabapple, plus what appears to be a flowering pear. Surrounded by forest on three sides, we are tucked back in here quite tidily, the little white cabin that welcomes me as I come up the drive.

Hope you enjoy the song. And sorry not to be publishing very often. Life is just plain crammed full. I head off to Blaine this afternoon to preach there tomorrow and spend time with my friends the Geers and other Blaine folks. But first I have to teach our fall UU101 class this morning, pack a few things, and figure out what to do about Max, who may be developing something, as he's rather quiet this morning, uncharacteristically.

Home, home, home again on Sunday afternoon, though.

The Trumpet Vine

I've always loved this Kate Wolf song. I especially like the very last line: "You came when you were needed, I could not ask for more than to turn and find you walking through the kitchen door." I'm thankful today for all the people in my life who have come when they were needed.

Bitterness, Forgiveness and Life

I'm posting tomorrow's sermon tonight, just to get it done.

BITTERNESS, FORGIVENESS, AND LIFE
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Sept. 27, 2009

This past spring, a friend in the congregation lent me a book, “The Sunflower” by Simon Wiesenthal. It’s a small book, a short book, but I carried it with me everywhere for a few weeks, as I pored over its story and the commentary which accompanied the story.

Simon Wiesenthal, whose name you may remember as the longtime pursuer of Nazi war criminals, had had an unusual experience while imprisoned in a concentration camp and it troubled him. Let me tell you his story.

Wiesenthal had been in the camp for some time and one day, while on work detail, he was approached by a woman who seemed to be a Red Cross nurse in a nearby building, a school which had been turned into a hospital. She asked him if he was a Jew, which seemed a ridiculous question under the circumstances, but he nodded, fearing reprisals if he hesitated, and she bade him come with her.

He followed her into the hospital, hurrying to keep up with her, when she stopped and entered a room, signaling him to wait for her. Suddenly she returned, grabbed him by the arm, and propelled him into the hospital room.

There he found a pale, sick man, lying under white sheets and blankets, bloody bandages on his body, clearly a German soldier. The man looked dreadful; obviously he was dying and in terrible pain. But---a German soldier! A Nazi! Wiesenthal was terrified and fascinated at the same time, not knowing what was about to happen.

The nurse told him to “stay here” and she left. Wiesenthal sat down on the edge of the bed, hesitatingly, and waited. The man choked out, “I am dying. I shall die; there is nobody in the world to help me and nobody to mourn my death.”

“I am twenty-two,” he went on. “I know that death is everywhere. I am resigned to dying soon, but before that I want to talk about an experience which is torturing me. Otherwise I cannot die in peace.”

“I asked the nurse to bring me a Jewish prisoner. I must tell you something dreadful, something inhuman. It happened a year ago and I must tell someone about it; perhaps that will help me die in peace. I must tell YOU of this horrible deed----because you are a Jew.”

The German soldier went on to tell Wiesenthal that he had grown up a good Catholic boy but in his teens he joined the Hitler Youth and found friends and comrades there.

His parents were terrified that he would betray them, for they were against what he was doing, but he moved up in Nazi ranks and became an SS man, an officer in the Nazi army.

Fortified and made bold by lectures from Nazi leaders such as Himmler and Der Fuhrer, he participated in raids and captures of enemy prisoners and Jewish families. One day while on a mission, he had participated in the deed which now tortured him.

Soldiers, including himself, had herded several Jewish families into a house, which they then set on fire with hand grenades, and as people tried to escape the flames, they shot them dead, men, women, and children.

Wiesenthal was horrified and wanted to leave, but the soldier would not permit him to go and at the end of his terrible confession, he said, “I was wounded badly during a later battle and have been brought here to die, but that monstrous deed will not let me go. I relive it constantly. I cannot die without coming clean. In the last hours of my life, you are here with me and my guilt. I do not know who you are but you are a Jew and that is enough. I need you to forgive me,” he ended.

Wiesenthal was stunned by the man’s request and in his narrative of the event, he says this, “Now there was an uncanny silence in the room.. I looked through the window…What a contrast between the glorious sunshine outside and the shadow of this bestial age here in the death chamber. Here lay a man in bed who wished to die in peace---but he could not, because the memory of his terrible crime gave him no rest. And by him sat a man also doomed to die---but who did not want to die because he yearned to see the end of all the horror that blighted the world.

“Two men who had never known each other had been brought together for a few hours by Fate. One asks the other for help. But the other was himself helpless and able to do nothing for him….At last (said Wiesenthal) I made up my mind and without a word I left the room.”

Asked to forgive a Nazi for murdering Jews, Simon Wiesenthal could not bring himself to speak and left the room without granting the request for forgiveness. Once back in the camp, he talked with his fellow prisoners about this experience and struggled with himself endlessly. Had he done the right thing? Would his God judge him for not being compassionate enough? What does forgiveness mean, to the forgiver and to the forgiven?

After the camps were liberated, the experience continued to haunt him and eventually he asked others, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, believers, non-believers, psychiatrists, and other teachers. Their responses form the other half of this slender book. Among those answering his question, “what would you have done?” are the Dalai Lama, Matthew Fox, Rabbi Harold S. Kushner, Desmond Tutu, and other wise notables.

Some of these men and women felt that Wiesenthal should have forgiven the SS man, though most felt that he could not forgive on behalf of the Jews, only on behalf of himself for the frightening experience the SS man had subjected him to by summoning him to his bedside.

Others felt that he had acted rightly by listening and allowing the man to unburden himself, but not giving him forgiveness. Most, too, felt that if they were confronted by such a dilemma, they would not know what else to do but simply listen.

Commentary-contributors seemed in agreement about who can forgive and who can be forgiven, who has the right to ask and of whom.
1. the offended party can forgive for self but not for others.
2. the offender can be forgiven by the offended but also needs forgiveness from a higher power, such as God.
3. the offender can ask the offended to forgive an offense to himself or herself but not for an entire group.
4. some offenses, such as murder, cannot be forgiven for the offended party is dead. Survivors can forgive the pain caused themselves by the murderer but cannot forgive for the victim.

As I think about the issue of forgiveness, I am reminded of my years in a Twelve Step program, when I was working the 12 steps to wholeness and had to make “a searching and fearless moral inventory” of myself, admit those wrongs to my Higher Power, to myself, and to another human being, and then make amends to those I’d harmed, if possible.

I’d gotten into AlAnon because of my relationship with a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous. When we were hiking one day, we were talking about our past hurts in other relationships and I blurted out, “how can I get my ex-husband to make amends to me for the hurt he caused?” and stopped short because the truth hit me between the eyes: it was not my ex-husband’s behavior that should be my concern, it was MY behavior that I needed to consider at that time. How might I have contributed to my own unhappiness?

Because of AlAnon, I’ve done a lot of admitting my wrongs and making amends as soon as possible, apologizing and asking for reconciliation. But it’s always hard to admit I’ve done wrong. It’s also hard to forgive when no apology from another has been made, when no admission of wrong-doing has been offered.

I struggle with this in my life still, when I feel lonely or distressed or misunderstood. It’s hard for me not to feel resentful when I think of the patterns I learned in an early life, patterns which I still maintain even though they aren’t very productive. And it’s then that I have to take a new tack.

In our reading today, Frank read excerpts from an essay by Rabbi Harold Kushner. Kushner’s point is that we don’t have to forgive people for doing terrible things to us; we aren’t being asked to say, “oh, it’s okay that you did this terrible thing”. Because it’s not okay when someone hurts us.

What we can do, however, is refuse to give that person the power to make us victims. For victimhood is mostly in our own minds. It is the residue of the original hurt and should not control our lives. Declaring ourselves the victim of a terrible act and carrying that anger and helplessness forward into the rest of our lives gives the offender power over us, gives the offender illegitimate power in our lives.

In an article this past spring, Shari Roan of the LA Times wrote about a common emotional problem that is so widespread that it may be classified as a mental disorder. It’s called “Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder” and here’s what she says about it:

You know them. I know them. And, increasingly, psychiatrists know them. People who feel they have been wronged by someone and are so bitter they can barely function other than to ruminate about their circumstances.

This behavior is so common -- and so deeply destructive -- that some psychiatrists are urging it be identified as a mental illness under the name post-traumatic embitterment disorder. The behavior was discussed before an enthusiastic audience (in May) at a meeting of the American Psychiatric Assn. in San Francisco.

The disorder is modeled after post-traumatic stress disorder because it too is a response to a trauma that endures. People with PTSD are left fearful and anxious. Embittered people are left seething for revenge.

"They feel the world has treated them unfairly. It's one step more complex than anger. They're angry plus helpless," says Dr. Michael Linden, a German psychiatrist who named the behavior.

Embittered people are typically good people who have worked hard at something important, such as a job, relationship or activity, Linden says. When something unexpectedly awful happens, a profound sense of injustice overtakes them.

Instead of dealing with the loss with the help of family and friends, they cannot let go of the feeling of being victimized. Almost immediately after the traumatic event, they become angry, pessimistic, aggressive, hopeless haters.

"Embitterment is a violation of basic beliefs," Linden says. "It causes a very severe emotional reaction. . . . We are always coping with negative life events. It's the reaction that varies."

We do see very bitter people every day---in our own lives, in the media, across the globe wherever injustice has eaten away at people’s lives. Many times these sad and angry people only want a sincere apology from the person or entity which has hurt them; they want someone to take responsibility for an action which has been damaging.

But many times the person or entity which has been hurtful refuses to see the hurt caused; they react defensively and even may demonize the person who is claiming a hurt. We’ve seen this behavior between patients and insurance companies; we’ve seen it in social agencies where a person has been wrongfully accused of misdeeds; we’ve seen it in classrooms where a teacher has hurt a student in some way and has refused to see it as anything but the student’s fault. We’ve seen it in families where an abusive situation has continued unabated despite efforts to change things.

What does bitterness do to us? As individuals? As members of this community? As members of the global community? In our “Time for All Ages” this morning, we heard about a place where people had forgotten how to say “I’m sorry” and “I forgive you”. The result was a burden of unhappiness that had persisted for generations.

Tonight at sundown begins the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur, the culmination of what is often called the 10 Days of Repentance, which began with Rosh Hoshanah on Sept. 18. The 10 Days of Repentance are a time when Jews are to meditate on their lives during the past year and ask for forgiveness from anyone they have wronged. At the time of Yom Kippur, Jews are expected to ask forgiveness from God for the ways they have wronged God by disobeying God’s laws.

Judaism recognizes in this way our human need to forgive and to be forgiven, so that our dealings with each other can be mutually peaceful. Christianity also requires confession of wrongs and reconciliation with those who have been harmed; Catholicism requires penance for wrongs against God’s laws. In Buddhism, forgiveness is seen as a practice to prevent harmful thoughts from causing havoc on one’s mental well-being.[10] Buddhism recognizes that feelings of hatred and ill-will leave a lasting effect on our minds.

Instead, Buddhism encourages the cultivation of thoughts that leave a wholesome effect. Compassion for all is a hallmark of most Buddhist theology.

We Unitarian Universalists look to our Seven Principles for guidance in matters of forgiveness. Our first principle asks us to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person and our second principle, to affirm and promote justice, equity, and compassion in human relations.

And yet it is so difficult to do. We are beset by resentment of those who do NOT apologize, we often have a hard time admitting our own complicity in events which bother us, and we may struggle to find compassion in our hearts for those who seem bent on hurting us, deliberately.

Over my years of life, I have been in a number of situations that required me to admit that I had hurt someone and to make amends for my behavior. It has never gotten easy; I am always tempted to deny any wrongdoing on my own part, to be defensive when called on my actions, and to avoid confrontation.

Yet every time I have let go of my defensiveness, acknowledged my own complicity in a negative situation, and asked for forgiveness, I have come away from the situation wiser, less anxious, stronger, and more compassionate. I have grown in ways I could not have imagined.

Forgiveness is tied to compassion. When we can find compassion in our hearts for someone who has hurt us, it is easier to feel forgiving. Forgiveness is tied to repentance. When we express our regret for having hurt another person, it is easier for that person to forgive us. Sometimes the other person doesn’t even know they’ve wounded us; in that case, it is valuable to have the courage to speak of our hurt to the other.

Sometimes it doesn’t happen. We apologize and the other person doesn’t accept our apology. Or we can find no compassion in our hearts for the person who has hurt us, only resentment. But as many wise women and men have pointed out, and as is stated clearly in 12 Step process, we forgive others for our own benefit, as much as theirs.

I ask us: Could the great hurts of the world be cured by the acts of taking responsibility for wrong-doing, taking steps to make amends for the hurt caused, and finding reconciliation?

Could the small and large hurts of our daily lives be healed by the acts of taking responsibility, making amends, and finding reconciliation? I’d like to think it could be so.

Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and prayer.

BENEDICTION: Because prayer is a common way of coping with hurt and resentment, our benediction this morning is a prayer.

Spirit of Life and Love, whom some call God, we are grateful for the many blessings of Life and Love. We are in awe of this beautiful universe and its gifts, yet we often overlook or ignore our own responsibility to the world and especially to our brothers and sisters on this planet. We remember times when we have hurt others or have been hurt by others and have not taken steps to heal those hurts.

We regret these lapses, for we know that to forgive and to be forgiven are essential actions in a world that desperately needs peace. Grant us, we pray, the courage to say we're sorry to each other and to ask for forgiveness. Grant us, too, the grace to accept apology from others and to let go of the resentments we may be harboring. In the name of all that is holy, we pray these things. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Preparing a Worship Service

Okay, this is kind of "handy hints from Ms. Kitty" about preparing a worship service, from my ministerial point of view. I have to prepare for our annual Worship Workshop on Saturday and figured it might make a decent blog post.

1. With the Worship Committee, we decide on the year's theme and how we'll approach each month's services; I choose my pulpit dates.
2. I start thinking, collecting bits of pertinent info, quotes, books, ideas; I carry a little notebook with me to write down ideas that come at odd times.
3. The newsletter deadline is during the 3rd week of the month, which means I need to submit titles and blurbs for my two services.
4. Now I'm committed and make a folder for the service and stick any info I've collected inside it.
5. 7-10 days before the service, if possible, I meet with the Worship Leader and we talk about what I'm thinking about for the service. We choose hymns, readings, discuss possible "All Ages" stories, and I make notes about the WL's thoughts on the topic of the sermon, so I can include them as appropriate (with permission, of course).
6. Monday before the upcoming service, I draft the Order of Service, using my notes from the WL conference, and send it to the WL for proofing. Then the O/S goes to our administrator, to the WL, to the musicians and/or accompanist.
7. Wednesday is my day to begin the sermon. I have already been thinking a lot about the topic and how I can make it personal, related to my own experience, because I'm crummy at preaching about things that aren't important in my own life (without making it TOO personal, of course). I think about how I can make it personal to the congregation, without embarrassing or seeming to attack anyone.
8. I make a list of all the things I want to include in the sermon and decide how I will start the sermon, as getting the immediate attention of the congregation is crucial. Usually I start with a story or something that gets people to move from their head to their heart, or startles them a bit.
9. I work on writing the sermon for as long as I can on Wednesday morning, then print what I've got and put it away. I'll take it out later in the day, read it aloud, and start jotting down what might come next, now that I can see the progression I've started.
10. Thursday morning I write until I come to a stopping point and then put it away again, returning to it later in the day to edit out the sloppy parts, reword awkward constructions, and make sure it moves smoothly when it's spoken aloud.
11. By Friday afternoon, I've pretty well got it all down and ready for its final percolation period. So I stow it in its folder and let it be until Saturday afternoon, when I review it, make final corrections, deliver it aloud to my cats, and have a fresh, clean copy ready for Sunday morning.
12. Sunday morning, I deliver it aloud again to the long-suffering but very appreciative cats, and head off to church about 9 for the service at 10.

Bear in mind that my process can be leisurely because I work half-time and preach twice a month, but I developed this process when I was working fulltime in my first parish and usually managed to be finished by Friday morning. I learned in seminary that I'd rather be done early with a project than desperate to finish it by a deadline. I hate feeling pressured by time.

If this is helpful to any budding preachers, I'll be glad. I'd be interested in hearing how others approach service preparation. I'm gifted with a wonderful Worship Committee which really "gets it" about worship. For a small congregation, our worship services are extremely high quality. Almost no duds for the past several years, and that's not because of me---it's because of their commitment.

Wow!

This young man reminds me of what education means to this country.

Healthcare Napkins All

Borrowed from the other Kit K's Facebook post. I thought this was interesting and easier to follow than all the news rhetoric.

Healthcare Napkins All

View more documents from Dan Roam.

Saying goodbye...

As I age, become ever more conscious of my own mortality, and am affected by the mortality of others, little things begin to mean a great deal to me. I notice significances more, spend more time thinking about those significances, and go deeper into their larger meaning.

It's probably a good year for us to be engaging theological issues in our worship time at UUCWI because I'm thinking more about meaning. And meaning is what theology is all about. My own mental meanderings start with "someone I care about is very ill and I feel compassion for her", move on to "what will it be like for me if and when she dies?", and wind up in "what does it mean that I will die, that we all will die, that these deaths are a natural outcome of human life, and where is the Sacred in this natural occurrence?"

Recently an email from an acquaintance reached my inbox. The sender was someone I'd met when I performed her wedding ceremony a couple of years ago, whose first message to me included the line that she wanted to wear her wedding dress before she had to go in for her next round of chemo.

This time it was a plea to be with her and her husband as they put their beloved dog to rest. Mac, who had been a member of the wedding party, was declining fast; his illness too was cancer and it had struck hard, taking him downhill almost overnight. Would I say a few words over his little grave? Of course I would.

It came at the end of a pleasant day with my sister across the water. Sitting in the ferry line, I got the call. Could I come to the house as soon as I got off the boat? The vet would be there and we would be together during these moments of goodbye, the little grave would be dug, and we would bury Mac with his toys and collar, wrapped in his favorite blanket. And I would pray.

It happened just that way, with many tears and stories of Mac's bravery and protectiveness toward his family and other animal friends. We wrapped him and carried him to the grave, where he was laid. And my words went something like this:

"Spirit of Life and Love, God in our midst, we are grateful for the unconditional love of our animal friends. They give it so unstintingly and we give our care and devotion in return. But our lives are longer than their lives and there sometimes comes a time when we must repay their love and friendship by giving them a peaceful, painfree death. We are grateful for the bright spirit of little Mac, who gave so freely to his humans of his companionship, his protection, his playfulness, his loyalty. May his spirit be always with his humans and may he rest here in peace. Amen and Blessed Be."

And we threw clods of dirt upon the small packet in the bottom of the grave and said goodbye.

The missing post

WATER AS A METAPHOR FOR COMMUNITY
By Rev. Kit Ketcham, Sept. 13, 2009

Picture this, if you will: seven young women, all teachers or about-to-be teachers, standing on the shores of Dillon Lake, a huge reservoir in the Front Range of Colorado which supplies the Denver metropolis with water, seven young women gazing with mixed fear and anticipation upon seven small Sunfish sailboats pulled up on the shore.

None of us had ever sailed before and the prospect ahead of us was daunting. We were going to have a race across the reservoir in two days, each of us alone in a boat, sailing to three different checkpoints where our leader would note our time of arrival and send each of us back out again on the course.

Dillon is big----over 3000 acres---and it’s at about 9000 feet of elevation. We were small, and on our Outward Bound rations of cheese and hardtack and raisins, we were getting smaller. But we were also getting stronger and we were past the point of believing we were weaklings who would fold at any challenge. When our leader told us we could do this, we almost believed her!

But first we had to learn to sail! Luckily, the weather was fine---warm and sunny---and we quickly became fairly proficient at the tiller, at dodging the mast as it swung about, and even at tacking to take advantage of the mild breeze. Two days of this and we were ready for anything!

The morning of the race dawned bright and clear and we snarfed down our instant oatmeal and did our morning routines of cleaning up camp and getting ready to go. We figured we had plenty of time; the race would take about 4 hours and we ought to be back at camp by mid-afternoon.

But we hadn’t considered that the weather might change and in those days before cell phones or mini-computers, we had to rely on our own observations for a forecast. As we launched our tiny boats, a light breeze sprang up, ruffling the limp sails and somebody said, “oh goodie, there’s going to be a little wind” not knowing that just behind the mountain ridge loomed dark thunderheads, clouds we couldn’t yet see.

Isn’t this just the way life goes? There’s always something just behind the metaphorical mountain ridge that we can’t see, throwing us a curve that will surprise and alarm and challenge us to meet it.

We launched in a small cove and as we rounded the shoreline and headed out into the main body of the lake, the wind picked up---and picked up and picked up. Now we could see the clouds building but they didn’t look too bad and we didn’t want to be wimps, so we continued across the lake toward our first checkpoint, the distances between boats widening as the wind strengthened and white caps on the water splashed over our bow.

Storms come up awfully fast in the Colorado Rockies and this one, which seemed tame enough at first, quickly turned into a doozy. Here we were, seven young women in seven small Sunfish boats, with metal masts, and lightning beginning to strike the ridgetops around us.

Now this story doesn’t have heroic rescues or tragic endings to heighten the drama. It’s just a story of how seven young women, who had been together in Outward Bound about ten days at that point with a few adventures under our belts, looked at each other from the cramped safety of the smelly park service outhouse and thanked our lucky stars that we were alive, that none of us had capsized in that stormy water, that nobody had been struck by lightning, that our boats had conveyed us through the wind and waves to safety on the shore of the first race checkpoint.

The significance of the story has to do with the growing sense of community and camaraderie among seven young women on a challenging and unfamiliar journey because of their shared experience.

That’s what we have here at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Whidbey Island: shared experience. Our connections, both here within these walls and in the larger community, form a bond between us that makes us more than just fellow residents of the island or members of the same gym or service organizations. We are a community in and of ourselves.

When we pool the waters that represent our personal lives and the important experiences of our lives, we signify that we are bringing our deepest selves to this place, that we are willing to share the meaning of our experiences and our being with one another.

Just as we are a community, bringing all we are and all we have into this relationship, watery places too are a community, a biological community, affected by all that it absorbs. Like a human community, the water community must be kept pure, free from pollutants, in order to bring the greatest good to the greatest number.

We depend on water to keep us healthy and functioning as individuals and as groups. We depend on water to keep the earth and all its creatures healthy and functioning. We depend on water to give us beauty and to foster growth. We depend on the cleansing power of water.

We depend on water to work for us---the tide regularly and predictably brings in food, allows us to navigate the waters of rivers and oceans, gives us energy that can be turned into power, and scours the shoreline. We use water in cooking, in medicines, to control fire, to float our boats, and to irrigate our crops.

Water plays with us, inspiring our creativity and offering us joy as we splash in it or scud before the wind as it fills our sails, or thread our way through rapids in our small boats, or depict its beauty in artistic ways.

Water has its cycles: from liquid to solid to gas, cycling from rain to ocean to clouds and again to rain or snow, becoming liquid and then freezing, melting, evaporating and condensing.

Our human community has its cycles as well; folks come and go, visitors become members, members become active leaders, we grow older and more tired and others step in to do the tasks we once performed, people die or move away and we recognize our losses while adjusting to the new circumstances of life.

And, like the human community, water needs balance: too much or too little of it is a problem. Too much means flooding, damage to the land and to its occupants. Too little means crop failure, starvation, devastation of societies.

How do we find balance in our human community? As human beings we are fallible, affected by gossip or accusations or misunderstandings. A faith community like ours makes every effort to keep our communications clear and kind. We encourage people to talk directly to each other about their concerns, not behind their backs. We give each other the benefit of the doubt as much as possible and yet we do our best to uphold standards of behavior that are exemplified in our seven principles.

We strive to keep each other safe in this community. We want to be inclusive, but we cannot overlook behavior that endangers or damages the community. This can be difficult but it is important that our children and our adults all feel safe here. We have policies to fall back on when that safety is endangered or violated.

Our seven principles are our guides to our behavior in community, as they encourage us to be mindful of the worth and dignity of each person and that each of us plays a part in the preservation of the interdependent web of existence, which supports and nurtures us.

As we have brought our contributions of water to this communal container and have listened to Mark and Ken read the words we’ve written to describe what the water means to us, we come together in another moment of shared experience.

Our life together as a community of love and justice now contains all our recent experiences of joy and sorrow, of growth and insight.

But harking back to our story of sudden storms and danger and connection, there’s an important point to be made: whatever the unexpected challenges that you and I may face in our human journey during the coming year, we are not alone. We are not alone. We are together here and that bond will serve us well. We are here to care for each other and for those beyond these walls.

And as we get ready to make our way together through another year, I am reminded of this passage from one of the publications of my first UU church, Jefferson Unitarian in Golden, Colorado:
“We have a congregation where each member is a minister and with each smile, each kindness, each word of encouragement, every offer of help, every hug and touch, every moment spent listening to another, we knit up the rips and tears in the interdependent web of existence and bring each other closer to spiritual wholeness.”
Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and prayer.

BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering that our community is a place of safety and encouragement to spiritual growth. May we strive to live lives of integrity and kindness, speaking our truth in love and respect for each other’s inherent worth and dignity, for it is in this way that we heal ourselves and each other and knit up the rips and tears in the interdependent web of existence, of which we are a part. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Feeling a bit less wiped out now...

from a wonderful but draining weekend on beautiful Whidbey Island in Puget Sound. I tried earlier to re-post my homily from Sunday and got posted but then tried to tweak it a little bit and ended up having to delete it all again. I may try again tomorrow, because it's a good homily.

I was so pleased this morning to learn (at Worship Committee) that a couple of new folks in the congregation (temporary residents of the island, staying with members here while they deal with a health crisis) told their hosts that they thought that I was one of the most articulate preachers they had heard, and they've done a lot of traveling around in their own ministry and have heard a lot of preachers! What a compliment! I was bowled over because I was truly a bit intimidated by their presence yesterday. They themselves are among the very best speakers I've ever heard.

We're working at starting a couple of new music groups, not for performance but for enjoyment and for learning new skills. My Trilogy pals, Richard and Debbie, and I are getting together occasionally to work on our improvisational jazz stylings. I want to learn to sing more interpretively, if that makes sense, doing some of the jazzy stuff that Ella and Etta and those ladies know how to do. I'm kind of scared to take liberties with rhythm and melody because I'm afraid I'll get it wrong, but they are encouraging and it's been fun so far.

There's also a bluegrass group meeting occasionally but I'm not sure I will try to be very involved in that one. I'm realizing that my spare time only stretches so far and I don't want to fall short in any of my work for the congregation. I do love bluegrass, but I may have to enjoy it only as a listener.

Tomorrow is my day in Coupeville at the hospital; I have three other visits to make up in that area, to folks who are less mobile and can't get to church very often. I love doing this kind of work. On Tuesdays I almost always come home feeling like I have done a good deed, whether it's in having a deeper conversation with a hospital patient or with one of our shut-ins. It makes Tuesday a very special day.

Interesting difficulties with Blogger

This is the first time I've had problems with Blogger and the only real downside was that I disappeared off the UUpdates aggregator. So if you haven't seen me here recently, that's the reason. It turns out that sometimes if one cuts and pastes from a Word document, Blogger has a meltdown---or something. Anyhow, UUpdates freaks (not John's fault) and you have to wait till a post cycle (20+ posts) completes before you're back on UUpdates. Bummer!

So this is a test message to see if deleting the offending post will speed things up.

An Ethic of Work

Whether it was babysitting, summer harvest work, or other kinds of typical youth employment, I have been working steadily since I was 13 years old, growing up in the wheat and pea fields of northeastern Oregon.

Babysitting for the neighbors was a minor part of my work history; I didn't particularly like taking care of kids, with one exception. Jennifer N.'s parents had some fascinating books on their living room shelves: the Boccaccio, Canterbury Tales, and other such semi-titillating non-sacred tomes. My family's shelves were particularly laden with Bibles and religious literature. The N's had no such restrictions on their choices.

But all us pre-teen girls were champing at the bit to turn 13 so that we could work for the big pea-harvest outfit in Athena: Weber and Kirk. There we would work 12 hour days for 85 cents an hour, driving huge, heavy-laden cabless trucks full of peavines from field to field, depositing these loads in front of viners manned by migrant workers who pitched the vines onto conveyor belts which carried them up inside an immense rotating drum (think cement truck type drum) where the motion would pop the pea pods open so that the peas could rattle down into boxes below.

It was filthy work and we loved it. We zoomed our trucks across the open fields raising clouds of dust, on our way out to the area we were harvesting. We didn't drive on the roads, only in the field, which is why we could do it at age 13! We'd come home at night sunburnt, dirty, blowing black boogers into equally black hankies, collapse into bed, and get up the next morning and do it all again, from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., seven days a week for about four or five weeks. The camaraderie of pea harvest leveled all social barriers; we were all in it together, the popular kids and the not-so popular.

Wheat harvest was a little more easy-going, with long periods of sitting in our trucks (my first one was a 42 Dodge) waiting for the combine to be ready to dump a load, and then we'd head for the grain elevator. You had to be 16 and have a license to drive in wheat harvest, because the elevators were on county roads. A much classier job, indeed.

Eventually I went off to college and struggled through the normal summer and school year jobs of the typical college student, mostly retail sales. But after college, when I had few prospects and very little actual training for anything, I landed a job as a welfare worker in Skamania County WA, in the middle of the Columbia River Gorge, and started on a trajectory of a different kind: the so-called "helping" professions.

From welfare caseworker in Washington, I went to a stint as an American Baptist Home Missionary in Denver. After marriage, I took the time to acquire teaching credentials and began a 25 year-long career as a public school educator (6 years as a Spanish teacher and then 19 as a guidance counselor). Ministry is my fifth career and everything else was preparation for it.

I am thinking about this today, Labor Day, because I realize that at age 67, I need to think about when I might retire. I'm certainly not ready yet; I'd like to put in several more years in ministry before I hang up my stole. But the congregation is starting to do some long range planning and I know this is a question that will come up eventually.

Anyhow, if I were to work till age 73 (not a bad time to hang it up), I will have worked pretty much non-stop for 60 years. That seems like a work ethic to be pleased with. And I'm happy to say that I have liked, even loved, my work for all of those years. There have been moments of great pain and stress and fear but none of it has been so daunting that I couldn't learn something important from it.

I can't imagine being idle for any extended period of time; that's the drawback to such a strong work ethic, I think. Idleness doesn't come easily. Even now, working half-time, I fill up the other times of my day with other kinds of ministry and work. I like having responsibility; I like filling needs; I like being useful.

"She was useful" is not a very poetic epitaph and easily misconstrued. But that's what I hope my life is and has been: useful in valuable ways.

We made a difference!

I didn't blog about the offensive ad in the new UU World, but I weighed in on it in comments on others' blogs and it looks like we all made a difference. Here's a message from the World's business manager:

September 4, 2009

I’m writing regarding the Freedom From Religion Foundation’s advertisement in the Fall 2009 issue of UU World. As the UU World’s business manager, I am responsible for all aspects of advertising in the magazine. We have received emails both supporting and denouncing our publication of this advertisement, and I greatly appreciate that you took the time to write and share your concerns.

I have come to the conclusion that it was a mistake to run this particular ad. While the stated mission of the Freedom From Religion Foundation is entirely consistent with UU values, this ad seems hostile to all religion. To be more specific, I believe that I failed to help the advertiser match their message to our readers. An ad spotlighting FFRF’s purpose of “working for the separation of state and church” would have been more appropriate than one that for many appears to be condemning all religion in general.

UU World accepts paid advertisements for the same reason as any other periodical, to support the costs of publication. Advertising also makes it possible for UU and independent organizations to promote their goods and services to a UU audience—a service to our readers and to the advertisers. Our ads are often forums for differing viewpoints, and the UUA has taken a broad view of what perspectives can be included. (See UU World’s advertising policy.) In this case, FFRF needed help finding the right tone to elicit the support they were seeking from UU World readers.

As business manager, I will continue to be responsible for accepting, rejecting, or seeking to modify ads submitted to us. In the future, however, I’ll watch for the rare advertisement that needs to be modified before being accepted.

Scott Ullrich
Business Manager
advertising @ uua.org

I really appreciate Scott Ullrich's prompt response to our concerns and his acceptance of responsibility. I wish everyone whose performance is critiqued sharply had the wisdom to respond in a sensitive way to the criticism, whether or not s/he changed his/her behavior as a result.

Thank you, Scott Ullrich!

Acts of Courage and Compassion... and Phones and Milkshakes

One of the things I most appreciate about my congregation is the willingness of so many individuals to reach out to those in need. We've had experiences with elderly folk needing rides, family crises requiring food help or transportation to doctors, that sort of thing. And folks have always risen to the occasion, as best they can. Some recipients report receiving far more food or offers of help than they can possibly use!

Recently I learned about a man who was interested in making a connection to our congregation because he would soon be without family members nearby and he is approaching the end of his life with a terrible illness. I started visiting him regularly and after awhile asked members who lived nearby if they would be interested in making his acquaintance and dropping by periodically.

The response was swift and positive-----of course they would be glad to get to know him, take him for rides, help with small tasks. And so I started introducing them to him, one at a time. One person immediately offered to help him get his phone installed and has undertaken to do that for him, as he is unable to make the contacts easily himself. We don't always think, in this day and age, that we need more than a cell phone, but cell phones run out of energy and a landline is forever, even in a power outage.

The act that inspired this post occurred yesterday, when another person from the congregation suggested that the two of them go out for a milkshake sometime. The joy on the face of this worn-out man, in such discomfort, was palpable. This member knew and suggested just what a man with a permanent sore throat would relish: a milkshake and an outing with another man, someone strong enough to help him if his strength gave out, someone to talk guy-talk with. (All his caregivers recently have been female.)

I am always thrilled and moved to see the compassion in people's hearts for those who are suffering. We can give money to faraway causes and human rights struggles in our own neighborhoods, but the opportunity to give tangible comfort and companionship to someone who is very very ill, in the last months of life, doesn't come along very often or in this way. And we are often too unnerved by death to have the courage to step up and help, especially if it's a stranger.

In my regular chalice lighting words on the Sundays I preach, I offer these lines, adapted from something my colleague Alice Blair Wesley once wrote:

"The chalice holds a flame during our times together. For us, the flame stands for all that we hold dear and keep burning in our hearts: devotion to truth, gratitude for blessings, humility in the face of our limitations and folly, courage and compassion, and the generosity of spirit it is always ours to exercise. We gather on Sundays to nurture our understanding of who we are and what we may become. In the holy spirit of love for the good of all life, please join me in saying the congregational response which is printed in your order of service: 'May Love reign among us here in this hour of community.'

Courage and Compassion----that's what we're all about.