Gratitude and Generosity: it works if you work it.

LOVING AND CHEERFUL GIVERS: the Sermon on the Amount
Rev. Kit Ketcham, April 10, 2011

I’d like to invite you all to center yourselves comfortably in your seats, perhaps close your eyes if you’d like, and enter a time of quiet reflection and thought with me. And as you relax into this time, I’d also invite you to be aware of this space, its quiet warmth, the tiny sounds of children down the hall, the tall shafts of fir trees outside the windows, the light streaming through those trees, the movement of the breeze.

Let yourself feel the presence of others in this room, those you love and those you don’t yet know, those who challenge you and those you challenge, those you are curious about and those whom you know well.

As we sit in silence for a few moments, I invite you to experience the feelings associated with this place, these individual people, this community of seekers. There may be feelings of pleasure, and joy, and happiness. Or uncertainty, or confusion, or pain. There may be memories of laughter, memories of sorrow, memories of pride and accomplishment. Whatever they are, let yourself experience those feelings during these moments. (chime, time of silence, ending with chime)

I don’t know about you, but when I take time to just sit in this sanctuary, experience the people around me, sing together, see the trees and greenery through these spacious windows, bask in the light that streams through the windows and almost feel the breeze as it rocks the trees, I feel profoundly grateful that I am alive in this time and place.

There is a sense of being filled with something almost inexpressible, a sense of being in a good place, of being with good people, of doing something good for others.

I wonder how many of you may have had a similar sensation, perhaps during our reflective time right now or at some other time in your experience with this congregation. Have any of you had those feelings? Who would be willing to share a couple of words about a sense of gratitude for something that has happened to you here. (sharing of gratitude items)

Many of you have said things just now that jibe with my own sense of gratitude for this place and its people. This past week, I sat down and brainstormed all the things about this congregation and this place that give me that sense of gratitude and fullness. It turned out to be a huge list!

I first listed the many hands and hearts that do the tasks that keep us afloat, because that was the easy list: our religious education staff, the volunteers and the parents of our wonderful children; those who spend hours tending our landscape and the little repairs and upgrades that the building always needs; the folks who have learned how to use our sound system and help out as needed; those who built the library shelves, sorted and catalogued the books, and developed the system for checking them out; our ushers who do so much on Sunday morning to get us ready for our worship service.

The art works we enjoy on the walls of the foyer were chosen and hung by those who have an eye for beauty and creativity; we have people who make a special effort to reach out to befriend those who need special care---our shutins and those whose memories and abilities have been taken away by illness. The folks who bring refreshments, make the coffee, clean up the kitchen afterwards.

The Lyceum 2.0 task force which offers us a program on science and ethics every month. Our wonderful musicians and the wide range of musical experience they bring. Our volunteer choir directors and our vibrant choir.

Dinners for newcomers. A worship committee that spends many hours making sure we have high quality, inspirational worship every week. The laughter and creativity that our auction offers us because of the hard work of its creators and supporters.

Our administrative team, the board and our incomparable administrator, who oversee and carry out the workings of the congregation, its programming, its financial stability, the nuts and bolts of governance and administration. Our Leadership Council comprised of someone from every committee and working group in the congregation, staying abreast of the many activities of the congregation.

Our social responsibility council which encouraged us to give away our offering once a month and helped us see how much good we could do for the many local agencies which need our help.

Our communications team, putting together our newsletter, our website, our Friday messages, and doing all the printing for our worship and other activities.

Those who offer and attend our adult programs, from circle dinners, to koffee klatches, dine outs, classes, and other opportunities. Our history keepers, those who collect our history and keep its memory alive. Our greeters and hospitality providers, and all the regular givers of time, talent, and treasure.

That’s a long list, indeed. How many of you heard your own contributions mentioned? Did I miss anything? And those are just the everyday tasks of keeping our congregation smoothly operating and doing its important work in the world.

But there are other less tangible and even more important sources of gratitude for me. Every time I see a rambunctious child being gently and lovingly corrected, every time I see friendships developing between adults and children, every time I see adults making efforts to understand children rather than just expressing their disapproval, I am reminded of my own experience as a parent in a congregation years ago.

I’m reminded of a young single mom, me, and her rambunctious seven year old, a little boy who wasn’t sure how to behave in school or church, who didn’t understand what was going on between his parents, whose intelligence and maturity didn’t match up, who was smaller and more hyper than the other kids, who had no obvious talents other than being a smart-aleck and a clown.

We his parents were at a loss to know how to make the divorce easier for him, how to help him with his difficulties, and we were grieving the changes in our lives as well. So we all just kind of struggled along, with my ex and I apologizing for the many incidents of shoving or rowdiness or other misbehavior. We knew we all still needed the church, but it could be tough with a child who was having such a hard time.

But there were teachers and others in the religious education program who understood and loved our little boy. They didn’t give up. They saw the potential within this little smarty-pants, and they worked with him to help him with his frustrations and his fears, his sorrow and his self-control.

And it didn’t happen overnight, but by the time he was a teenager, he had mastered the art of friendship, the ability to joke and tease appropriately, the self-understanding and compassionate heart to reach out to others who were struggling.

And now, I’m pleased to say, that little boy now become a man is an active leader in the UU congregation he attends in another town, where he lives with his wife and family. Life is not always rosy for him, but he has the tools and the foundation to make good decisions.

That’s what Religious Educators and others who work with children in this congregation are doing right now. They are carrying on the work that those wonderful religious educators at Jefferson Unitarian Church did for me and my family those many years ago. My gratitude knows no bounds for the work of our religious educators.

What else brings that sense of fullness and gratefulness to me? I see how you all reach out to each other, offering friendship, welcoming new folks and my heart fills up. I see all the children who come and sit on the rug to hear a story, and I can’t help but smile. I hear of those who offer to transport someone to an appointment or who offer support to those in difficult transitions and my heart swells with thanks.

I see how you all enjoy each others’ joys and grieve with others’ sorrows. I see people walk into this room, look around, and I know they are seeing the same beauty and serenity and welcome that I find here. And there have been times when the music has been so lovely that I am left speechless and overcome by thankfulness that we have had the experience and that we have had it together.

Melody Beattie has written: “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

And Winston Churchill once wrote, “We make a living with what we get. But we make a life with what we give.”

How is your gratitude expressed in the world? Do you find yourself wanting to do something to share your sense of fullness with others? When you are feeling lonely and deprived, has another’s generous kindness made a difference for you?

One lonely Saturday morning when I was living in Seattle, I was having my usual Grand Slam breakfast at the local Denny’s, and I noticed a group of young men and women off in one corner, laughing and drinking coffee. I remembered how my son, when he was about their age, used to drink coffee with his friends from work at the local Denny’s near our Denver home, and I smiled to see that age-old habit repeating itself in Seattle youth.

But I was very surprised, when I asked my server for the bill, to discover that it had been picked up and paid for by the group of young people I’d been observing. I went over to say thank you to them as I left the restaurant, and they mentioned that they were paying it forward, doing something nice for someone else because they had been the recipients of kindness earlier in the morning and wanted to share their gratitude.

There’s a member of this congregation who, when he sees me at El Corral restaurant once in awhile, pays my bill before I get to the cash register. This kindness cannot be ignored, so I have begun paying the bill of someone else in the restaurant, stealthily pointing someone out to Fernando and quickly leaving before they notice.

It would be easy to just say thank you to this person and go on my way with a smile, forgetting what it means to be the recipient of another’s generosity. And I did that for awhile, just being secretly pleased that this person would do this for me. It didn’t occur to me right away that there was more I could do. And then some friends came to El Corral and sat with me, and, guess what, it occurred to me then and I had the opportunity and took it.

Being able to give them the gift of a delicious meal was every bit as pleasant as being the recipient!

This ties in with another insight I had awhile back, the idea that “It works if you work it”. That’s a 12 step mantra, often echoed at the end of meetings, but it works in everyday life very well.

I have the habit, as perhaps some of you do, to regard advice from others as something I have to respond to politely, consider, and then let go of. Sometimes I don’t even consider the advice, particularly if I didn’t ask for it. Sometimes if I ask for the advice, I still don’t consider it, even when it’s good advice and intended to be helpful. “ I’ve made my mind up, don’t confuse me with your thoughts” seems to be my MO on occasion.

But it really works against me. It keeps me from acknowledging that others have good ideas, workable ideas, ideas that could actually improve my life!

For a long time, years ago, I denied the idea that I had some pretty unmanageable things going on in my life---I kept ending up with people who took more than they gave, treated me rudely frequently, and I had no idea what to do about it.

And then one morning, early on a rare day off from school when I was trying to sleep in, a friend woke me up with a phone call, suggested we meet for lunch, and, once we were together, she said essentially, “you need to figure out why you keep ending up with all these people who treat you this way.” And, for once in my life, I listened.

I took her advice, I started going to AlAnon meetings, and I decided to go the whole route, work the 12 steps and do them conscientiously and faithfully. If I had not done that, I suspect I would still be repeating the mistakes of old. It wasn’t so much the 12 steps that saved my bacon, it was my realization that “it only works if you work it”.

Gratitude is kinda like that. We can say thank you to people who compliment us or do something nice for us or perform a service of some kind, dishing us up pasta salad at the deli or helping us straighten out some financial issue over the phone. We can express appreciation to our kids or spouse for chores done or favors offered. We often say thank you and go on our way without really considering what it means that people are kind to us or that efforts are made in our behalf.

But gratitude as a spiritual practice really works-----if you really work it. I’ve noticed that when I really let myself experience the gratitude I feel, whether it’s for everyday kinds of things---the thank yous I hand out to those who help me or speak kindly to me----or for the larger gratitude I feel when I witness some act of kindness and generosity toward others, when I let myself really absorb the meaning of those acts, my sense of gratitude grows and my behavior toward others becomes more generous and kind.

I leave a bigger tip or I add a compliment to my thank you or I offer something helpful in return or I say yes to the Equal Rights Washington caller on the phone and promise to send in my pledge right away. Gratitude enhances my life, it improves my relationships with those around me, and the generosity which is the outpouring of that gratitude increases.

Gratitude works. It works to open our eyes to the wonders of our lives, the people we are in relationship with, the beauty of the earth and its creatures, the majesty and mystery of the universe.

Gratitude works. When we experience gratitude, we also tend to become more giving. We learn the transformative power of giving, its ability to lighten our mood, heal our hurts, improve our sense of well-being, change our hearts from fearful to joyful, strengthen our connections with each other; it teaches us to look deeply at ourselves, helps us see that giving and receiving are equal in value, gives us a chance to offer our unique gifts, connects us to the greater whole, gives us new eyes to see the world around us, to experience oneness with that world and to see its truths.

As we enter this stewardship season, I hope that each of us will think deeply about our gratitude to this congregation, this place of worship, the ways in which we reach out to each other and to the larger community. I hope that we will all express our gratitude for the gifts we’ve received here by being as financially generous as we can manage, within our own circumstances.

My practice every year is to increase my financial pledge by $300 a year. That’s an extra $25 a month. I can do that and I find that my heart expands and becomes even fuller, as I express my gratitude for the joy that serving this congregation brings me.

One theologian has said that if our only prayer in life is “Thank you, thank you, thank you”, that would be enough. But we have been given so much that “our gratitude calls us to give back, to find ways to bless the world as we have been blessed. Generosity is making love visible in the world. We offer our gifts as we build the beloved community.”*
(* from the Rev. Tom Disrud)

This is our religious home. We have work to do in the world. May our gratitude and our dedication to this religious community lead us to generosity that will sustain its work in the coming years.

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, grateful for the love that has created and sustained this place and these people. May we express our gratitude in all the ways we are able and may we experience the joy of giving until it feels good. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

The Living Tradition Institute...

might not be a familiar concept to you, if you are a Unitarian Universalist in a different district. It is, as far as I know, unique to the Pacific Northwest District, though there may be similarly shaped opportunities in other districts.

It began as an effort to offer guided theological reflection workshops to interested laypersons from a cluster of local UU congregations. It was the brainchild of four of my colleagues from the North Olympic Ministers group: Jaco and Barbara Wells ten Hove, Liz Stevens, and Bruce Bode, and began last year as a traveling workshop at each of the three congregations represented by their ministers. It was a big enough success that the group decided to offer it again this year.

They invited me to participate to the extent I found possible, given that it takes a good deal of cash and time to get over to the Kitsap/Quimper/Bainbridge area where the three congregations are located. I opted, at least for this year, to participate mainly as a small group facilitator and yesterday I had that opportunity.

I was thrilled, when I advertised the LTI for Whidbey folks, to watch the list of interested participants grow. We ferried eight folks over to the Quimper congregation for a full day of lecture and discussion of the theological questions of Soteriology (salvation/wholeness/preparation for death) and Ontology (the nature of Being/Reality), seen through the lens of Rev. Fred Campbell's concept of the Four Faiths of Liberal Religion.

Rev. Campbell sees Humanism, Naturalism, Mysticism, and Theism to be the four threads which generally comprise most UU congregations, as well as many other liberal congregations. The purpose of the LTI's workshop was to help participants find the thread that most nearly describes their approach to their faith and to discuss with others the aspects of their spiritual journey.

As I facilitated my group (Naturalists), I was struck by the eagerness with which people shared their thoughts and views, not arguing, just speaking their own truth. It seemed to be both reassuring and clarifying for most of the people in the Naturalist group to hear others' thoughts; there was both agreement and disagreement on certain points, particularly when someone shared a more mystical experience but attributed it to "unknowable" when others saw it as "ultimately knowable".

I see myself as a humanistic naturalist, if that makes sense---very grounded in the natural world from whence most of my spiritual experiences arise, but receiving my strength and joy from sharing values with my human community. That is not to say that I am not a mystic, for I have had and continue to have mystical experiences that are grounded in nature; and it is not to say that I am not a theist, for I have an ongoing relationship with the Power beyond human power, which I find in myself as well as outside myself.

My group of congregants, coming home on the ferry, talked about how we might offer these same ideas to our Whidbey congregation in the coming months. What a thrill for a minister, to find my beloved congregants excited about theology and eager for more! What a delight!

I wanna get a dog.

I'm gonna get a dog one of these days. I have started gazing with interest at the dogs featured in the WAIF videos on Facebook and fantasizing about taking walks with a lovely middle aged golden retriever who I may have rescued, who greets me with love in his or her eyes, thrilled to see me when I come home, grateful for my care.

I want a dog because I would like to find a man who will love me this way. The men I love tend to treat me like cats treat me. They are affectionate, but mostly so I'll feed them. They'll accept my affection but prefer that I not make any demands. They don't understand why I behave the way I do and they refuse to do what I ask, behaving in passive-aggressive ways----mostly by ignoring me or failing to hear me.

Max comes to me for petting when he has been outside all day and has missed me, but it's always on his terms, not mine. Loosy will pester me to sit down and let her hop up, but I can't pick her up to cuddle. Lily whines and moans around the house, ignoring my comforting words, and wants me to feed her from my plate but either gobbles down half my offering or totally ignores it, after begging for it.

I think a beautiful dog would be a way to show that I am a person who wants to be cherished, the way a dog cherishes his/her owner. I could walk the dog on the beach and meet people that way. A dog would express his or her own joy at the arrival of a guest; cats don't do that---they often hole up under the bed or in another room and refuse to socialize. Loosy is different that way, but she can be very annoying.

It may be that owning cats says something about a woman that invites men to treat her as her cats treat her. Not that I'd ever give up my cats completely, but I do wish for a companion who would treat me like a dog would treat me. (And hopefully housebroken.)

Celebrating the Mystery

CELEBRATING THE MYSTERY
Rev. Kit Ketcham, March 27, 2011

What’s your most puzzling mystery? Let’s hear some of those thoughts! Just call them out.

How many of us like to read murder mysteries or watch detective shows or movies? How many of us enjoy doing puzzles---jigsaws, word games, logic problems? How many of us just plain enjoy figuring things out? And how many of us, once we’ve figured something out, let go of it and assume it will always be true?

Human beings are pattern finders, searchers for understanding, curious as cats, creators of fundamental concepts which underwrite our world views.

And we are puzzled by any number of things: the secret of life, why human beings are the way they are, how did we all get here, what is beyond the stars and planets that we can’t see---at least, not yet?

We wonder why people come to believe what they do about the way the world works. We wonder why we (or anyone else) are so unwilling to change our minds once we’ve made them up.
It can drive us humans nuts to realize that our logical thinking doesn’t seem to bring us to the same conclusions as others’ logical thinking and we may wonder who is wrong.

I remember thinking that if I could just explain to my parents exactly why I was a Democrat rather than a Republican, they would immediately become Democrats.

I remember thinking that if I could just show my family members why I didn’t believe that Jesus was God, they would quickly see the error of their thinking and change their minds.

I frequently carry on long imaginary conversations with various individuals who don’t agree with me, laying out ever so clearly and succinctly why they ought to agree with me, and then I realize that they probably never will agree with me and I might as well give up! But, of course, I don’t give up these futile imaginary conversations---I’m still having them!

These are such common human puzzles that the real mystery is why we still don’t understand them. Sort of like the common cold, which we can dissect and alleviate the symptoms of but can’t really cure.

As UUs, we love mystery. It’s an important part of our faith. In fact, our first source (if you look at the list of our sources on the back of our O/S) is “direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.”

But mystery also makes us uncomfortable. If we can’t explain it, our rational minds get edgy. We want answers, so that we can go on to the next mystery. We want things to be explained because we want to go beyond the initial mystery through the new doorway that will open once the mystery is solved.

We thirst for knowledge, sometimes knowledge of the most trivial sort. I can be driving down the road, searching for knowledge and suddenly realize the triviality of what I’m searching for---which recently has been a confirmation of my belief that three chrome diamonds arranged in a particular order is the company logo for Mitsubishi cars. What a dumb thing to want to know! And yet, my human mind persists in looking at every car to see if I can prove this to myself. Once I’ve confirmed it, I can let go of it, but until then, my eyes are peeled for that particular industrial icon.

Why on earth would this be so? I hope there is some rational evolutionary or human survival explanation for it, because I think that this instinct for pattern-finding, for seeing how bits of information connect may have some redeeming value, no matter how irritating!

I read an article recently about coincidence and the human awareness of coincidence, unusual occurrences. The author, Tom Rees, pointed out a psychological link between belief and politics that has to do with noticing coincidences and finding meaning in those unusual occurrences.

The experiment involved a computer monitor which flashed dots and single words on a screen and participants were asked to push a button noting the position of the dot as above or below a word. Unexpectedly and randomly, a word would appear within a box, rather than simply written on the screen, and many participants hesitated a second or two before pushing the button to indicate the position of the dot. The take-away idea from the experiment was that participants were pondering the meaning of the unexpected change.

The interesting thing was that those who responded most strongly to the change were those who also reported being religious as a result of personal experience. They found it harder than others to dismiss the coincidence. For religious folk, unusual events had meaning.

We watch for patterns and draw links between coincidences. Sometimes those linkages are based on pretty lightweight assumptions, like my assumption that there must be very few Mitsubishi automobiles on the island because of the difficulty of my recent effort to discover their connection to a particular hood ornament of their logo. I will probably eventually give up and Google it, just to end the search with a new bit of knowledge.

Let’s think for a moment about the various forms of mystery that are part of our human existence. There is, of course, the mystery of existence itself. How did nothing turn into something? What is the reality of that something? Is this reality all there is?

How do we make sense of what science offers us, as the scientific process of forming and testing hypotheses reveals a spectrum of such mind-boggling concepts as quantum theory, relativity theory, string theory and the idea of an infinite, yet growing, universe and even parallel universes?

Though we may have unraveled the mysteries of physical conception, birth, growth, and death in many creatures, including humankind, we have not yet figured out the mystery of consciousness, the mystery of mind, one attribute which seems to differentiate humankind from the rest of the animal kingdom. We are not only alive, but we know that we are alive. Is our human consciousness part of a universal consciousness? In our mysterious personal experiences we may have sensed a connection with a consciousness beyond our own individual consciousness. What’s that about?

And what is Love? Really? And hate? What is that, and why do we love and hate? Where does the urge to create come from? We create much more than just additional human beings; we create beauty and music, art and dreams. These too are mysteries, mysteries of an everyday sort, mysteries we confront daily, mysteries whose answers seem to appear and then disappear, as our lives change.

As we age, the mysteries of the future confront us, as well as the mystery of death’s meaning. What will the world be like for our descendents? What will our children face, our grandchildren? What will the end of our individual lives bring? How will we die? And if time and space are one and the same, will anything ever really end?

The late Forrest Church, UU minister extraordinaire and prolific author, once wrote “My faith is grounded on two principles, humility and openness”. He went on to describe the importance of mystery in his own life. At the time, he was facing a terminal diagnosis of cancer; he knew that his life was ending within a few months and he was coming to the end of his writing life. Now there’s a mystery to contemplate!

Mystery, he said, fosters humility in our lives, reminding us of our limits, the limits of what we can know and of our individual perspectives. We are fallible, we are ignorant about many things, we are incapable of learning or understanding many things. And yet this is not a reason for despair, only a reason for humility, an awareness that we need not know everything in order to live good lives.

Mystery also encourages openness, reminding us to stay open to new learnings, new understandings, ready to face the unexpected with courage and strength. I have learned not to pray for certain outcomes, but rather to pray for the ability to cope, whatever the outcome might be.

As Dave and I were talking about this service and how we might design it, we had a great conversation about our own mysteries and the things about human life that boggle our minds.

And, interestingly, one of the mysteries we puzzled over the most is why some human beings are content NOT to engage with mystery but choose certainty instead, certainty that often seems to have a pretty flimsy foundation, certainty that often seems fearful of engagement with mystery.

One of those places in which certainty defeats mystery for many people is in the realm of religion. Another is in the realm of science. Another is in the realm of ethics and morality. And, of course, these overlap in many areas of their concern: the source of life, the creation of earth and its creatures, the origins of the universe, the purpose of human life, when human life begins, when human lives end and what happens after death.
What is so scary about mystery? Well, as I mentioned in our recent service on Evolution, people fear huge changes in their world view. If they take the chance of diverging from the familiar, the well-worn, the traditional or orthodox views or teachings, where do they go?

When I think back to when I took the leap of diverging from my family’s reliance on Baptist belief and practice, I knew I was taking a huge chance. I knew I might be estranged permanently from my family and the friends of my childhood. I hoped they would understand and continue to love me, but I had no real guarantees, other than trust in their love for me.

And when I did make the leap, I suffered some of those consequences. Not to the extent of shunning or dissociation, but they were hurt and angry for a long time. And so was I, as I felt they were reacting unfairly. We made it through this painful time partly because I was far away in Denver and didn’t come home very often. I also gradually learned how to talk with them about the values we hold in common, rather than specific theology.

It feels so sad to me to hear stories similar to mine in many ways, but which have a less positive outcome. I know people who turned to Unitarian Universalism or another religion different from their inherited faith and experienced much more drastic reactions: shunning, excommunication, disownment, physical rejection and expulsion.

Rejection by a family unit is severely painful and cruel and, instead of its resulting in a change of heart in the one rejected, it fosters deep anger and long-lived grief. These wounds may never heal. Is it any wonder that many people cling to a more orthodox and traditional world view? That they resist the curiosity that invites them to explore other views? That they fight any effort made by a changing culture to adapt to new knowledge and new understandings of human living?

We often criticize our fundamentalist friends and neighbors for their limited world view, whether they are religious or political or moral conservatives. We tend to think that there’s something wrong with anyone who declines to explore new knowledge and new ideas. WE made the leap to that new place; why are they so scared? Why don’t they trust themselves to think critically? Why are they satisfied with the measly, out-of-step religious rewards of security based on supernatural concepts? Or the desire to save money rather than serve the poor? Or the deeply embedded fear of sexuality?

What are they so afraid of? In addition to rejection by family and friends, many people are terrified of the challenge of changing everything they’ve come to believe about God, the Bible, homosexuality, evolution, sexual norms. Will they be able to cope with an influx of new ideas and permissions? Will they go crazy? Will they act out? Who will help them through this crisis of faith and culture?

If they make the leap, will their anger toward the apparent false teachings of their early years keep them from finding a new location in a new paradigm? We all know folks who are still angry with their parents or their former religious tradition or their teachers for the values and teachings imposed upon them as children. This anger can keep them immobile for a long time, preventing them from exploring the new avenues they see.

At about this point in our conversation, Dave had a great idea. “What if,” he said, “we did something to reach out? What if there was a way we could say, ‘ya know, it’s not so scary out here. We’ve learned how it’s going to play out and it’s okay. The world won’t end if you decide to explore it. It’s not a terrible thing, to change your mind. And you won’t be alone. We’re here. We will help.’”

As I thought about it, I realized what a much better approach Dave’s would be than the imaginary “what’s wrong with you?” conversations I often have with those people who don’t agree with me about any number of things! And I’ve decided to try to shape those imaginary conversations into something more receptive and sympathetic on my part.

And it occurred to me that maybe there are stepping stones on this path to a more progressive, less restrictive faith.

Remember the times when you’ve been out hiking in the hills and have come upon a rushing stream with only a set of rocks as a passageway across the water? On both banks, there is safety. To cross from one safe place to another requires courage, balance, and surefootedness. It’s possible we’ll get our feet wet, maybe even fall in. But if we don’t make the effort we won’t get to the other side, the other safe place, the next point on our journey.

In life, we start with the teachings we inherit from our families. Those may be religious teachings or morality lessons or opinions about any number of things, passed down through the generations before us.

We accept them pretty trustingly for many years, until our own experiences lead us to question their accuracy. That experience might be education or a friend or teacher who opens a door or our own maturing bodies and brains.

At this point, for many of us, the cognitive dissonance, the sense of our modern knowledge being out of sync with traditional knowledge, begins to work on us. Adolescence is the time when the ability to think abstractly clicks in and suddenly it’s clear that we don’t believe what our parents believe. How do we handle this? We’re still dependent on our families for support.

The choice to go or to stay must be made. And eventually, many of us stepped off of the safe bank of tradition and placed our feet on the first stepping stone, moving toward the solid ground on the other side of the stream.

Sometimes we get stuck and stay in the middle of the stream for a long time. If we have no companion on the path, we may not have the courage to go on alone and we retrace our steps to the safe place we just left. But if there’s someone nearby to fish us out of the creek, or if we have a sturdy walking staff, we are likely to take the next step and the next, with the faith that we will be okay on the other side.

So what does this all mean? It seems to me that it’s understandable that many people prefer the certainty of the answers of their inherited faith, political stance, or moral values. Fear prevents many people from risking the loss of a world view. Arguing doesn’t change minds---ours or theirs.

What can we do with this understanding? Can we be more compassionate? More willing to listen? More able to find the values we hold in common? Less likely to be scornful? More interested in making new friends than in excluding anyone who doesn’t agree with us? Because it seems to me that the more we disdain those who don’t agree with us, the more polarized our society becomes and the less able we are to change minds. Our only tool is modeling our values, not in rejecting people.

Mysteries abound in our human lives. Perhaps this is one we can solve. I’m reminded of a song called “Get Together”, from the 60’s: the last verse says “You hold the key to love and fear, all in your trembling hand; just one key unlocks them both, it’s there at your command. Come on, people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.”
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 we can help to alleviate others’ fear by listening with compassion. May we have the courage to seek friendship with people who are different from us and may we live our values of justice, mercy, and love, in order that others may be free. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

The Ferry schedule between Whidbey and the mainland...

is going to be disrupted for three weekends, starting today, and folks are understandably upset about it. Instead of a reasonable 15 minute voyage between the dock on Whidbey and the mainland dock at Mukilteo every 30 minutes, we now will en(joy?dure?) a 50 minute voyage between Whidbey and the next south-most ferry dock at Edmonds, several miles farther away. Those sailings will be every 90 minutes, rather than 30. It's a major inconvenience and I predict long lines and much gnashing of teeth.

The thing is, it has to happen and we've had lots of warning and advice about how to make it less painful. The Mukilteo dock is badly in need of repair and weekends, though not the perfect time because there is no perfect time, at least mostly affects visitors, rather than commuters. Of course, we are a recreational destination and fewer visitors cuts into our economic base. It's mud season, but when the skies are not dumping water on us, we have a fairly steady stream of customers coming to our shores.

Isn't it interesting how we fuss and moan about unavoidable, relatively minor obstacles in our path? We spend a lot of time worrying about that kind of thing and much less time thinking about the ways they can actually enhance our lives.

I think it will be kinda fun to travel south on the ferry to Edmonds; it's a shoreline I've never seen. It will increase my travel time a lot, on my way to Vashon tomorrow, but it will give me a chance to open my newest book---"Cutting for Stone"---which I hope I'll remember to put in the car. Waiting in line to board may be a hassle, but, again, I've got my book and no drastic time table.

I know others aren't so lucky, but we can make it worse than it really is, just by fretting.

A sense of contentment despite...

all the awful things going on in the world. My mind can barely contain the sorrows ringing the world right now: earthquake and tsunami destruction of life and home; tyrants killing their own people in order to maintain power; countless people, animals, and even landforms in the grip of massive change. Even though I'm not turning on the news or reading it online, my consciousness reels at the pain and sorrow afoot in the world, now and forever. Makes my wet basement seem like a walk in the park.

I woke up this morning feeling a bit blue, creaky from vaccing out gallons of water in the basement for a couple of days now; I'm getting ready to travel to Vashon this weekend to preach and also to officiate a memorial service for one of their beloved community and congregation leaders, Jennie Hodgson. Jennie was a stalwart at the Vashon Island Unitarian Fellowship during the years I served them and I was honored to be asked to perform this service.

But it's hard. Doing a memorial service for someone so beloved--not only by the congregation but by me--is difficult. Much easier are those services where my main emotion is compassion for the bereaved and less pity for myself. The world is less jolly without Jennie, who was always able to see the funny side of life, always on the move organizing this or that, inventing new ways of doing things. She is much missed, even though I rarely saw her once I'd moved to Whidbey.

Still, I have the opportunity this time to write the eulogy and compile many of the memories offered by her family into a portrait of a woman whose cheery, indomitable spirit endeared her to all who knew her. Writing it this morning has given me a lift, as though her spirit came down and touched me on the shoulder, laughing as if to say "isn't this a hoot?"

And despite the aching back from vacuuming the basement, the scubbed knuckles from wrestling with installing the new windshield wiper blades, the annoyance of occasional internet interruptions, I feel content. I've done a good job for Jennie. I'm ready to lead that service with not only my heart but my head.

Now if I can just figure out the temporary ferry schedule for the weekend!

Evolution Rocks: the sermon

EVOLUTION ROCKS: THE SERMON
By Rev. Kit Ketcham, March 13, 2011

I wonder what my Dad was thinking as we sat side by side in the tiny theatre on the Linfield College campus, my freshman year. It was Parents’ weekend, and my folks had driven from Athena to McMinnville to spend the weekend with me. I was excited about the opportunity to introduce them to my college life, to some of my professors and my new friends, and to walk with them around our beautiful campus.

One of the highlights of the weekend was to be a theatre production by student actors, so I bought three tickets and after dinner on Saturday night in the campus dining room, we entered the small space and found our seats.

The play was “Inherit the Wind” by Jerome Lawrence and Robert Lee, a dramatization of the famous Tennessee trial, in which Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan squared off over the state law which prohibited the teaching of evolution in school classrooms.

I had had no teaching about evolution in my high school biology class. Somehow the creation of the earth had been skipped over entirely and we’d gone straight on to dissecting earthworms without considering where the earthworms came from. Every church in the county taught the story of Genesis as historical fact and I had never heard a dissenting voice on the matter. Nor had I heard any voice dissenting with the Genesis story.

Or should I say stories? Because there is more than one Genesis account of the creation of the earth and its creatures. We’ll get to that later.

But for now, I sat there oblivious, watching the play. I was more interested in the friends I had in the cast and how they were doing, than I was in what seemed to be yet another story about how we all got here. I was not a very adept theologian—or science student--at that point in my life!

The characters sparred over Biblical references that lacked logic, with one character needling the other with questions like “where did Cain’s wife come from if Adam, Eve, Cain and Abel were the first humans?” and “what would happen if the sun stood still as it is written in the story of Joshua who needed more time to win a battle?” and the other answering smugly that he believed God had his own ways of making these things happen and that he believed firmly that these things were God’s will, even though he couldn’t explain them any further.

I wonder what my mother thought as she listened politely, knowing that my father’s beliefs were being systematically questioned and shot down as we sat there. It took me long years to recognize how hard it must have been for both of them to sit quietly and not get up and leave the theatre. It may have been a relief to them that I was more interested in pointing out my friends in the cast than discussing the topic of the play.

I didn’t even realize at the time that “Inherit the Wind” was making another point as well: condemning the recently concluded anti-Communist investigations of the House Unamerican Activities Committee, headed up by Senator Joe McCarthy.

The play was about intellectual freedom, of course, not specifically about evolution, but for my parents, it must have been a shock to see that the nice Baptist college they had sent their innocent daughter to was a hotbed of modernism. To their credit, they did not yank me bodily out of school and make me go to Multnomah School of the Bible instead. They continued to help with my tuition, gave me encouragement at every turn and never criticized when I’d write home about all the exciting things I was doing.

But somehow I figured out that my parents and I were on two different tracks when it came to the Bible and Christianity.

And I began to be very careful about what I revealed about what I was learning. I did my best to stay within the lines they’d drawn, at least at home. My dad’s health was an issue and I was afraid to upset him, for fear it would trigger a heart attack or other setback. And I loved my parents deeply. I could not bear the thought of being estranged from my family.

So I got adept at finding the metaphorical meanings of the scripture, rather than the literal meaning, and when we did talk, I thought metaphorical truth while they undoubtedly thought literal truth. The Genesis stories were metaphorical and mythical, not historical, in my mind, but I was not going to tip my hand.

That metaphorical meaning of the Genesis account was underscored by my Old Testament professor in seminary many years later when he pointed out that there were actually two different stories of the creation in Genesis, not just one.

The first story is the poetic tale of seven days of work, six days of separate physical acts of creation, and ending with a day of rest on the seventh day. This story runs from Genesis 1, verse 1, through Genesis 2, verse 6, and then seems to change and tells a somewhat different version of the creation, with no mention of seven days and with an extended description of Adam and Eve and the life given to them in the garden of Eden.

This version brings forth the ancient tale of Eve’s being created from Adam’s rib and describes the story of the serpent’s temptation and betrayal, resulting in Adam and Eve’s expulsion from the garden for disobeying the order of God not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

If you read the King James Version, which is all we had for centuries, you would miss the distinctions between the two stories; it would look as though the author simply took a different tack and decided to retell the story from a new angle.

But Biblical scholarship over the past century has noted the use of two different names for God, one from Canaanite culture and one from Judean culture, two different emphases, (the first on physical creation and the second on moral issues), and two different orders of creation (the first naming plant creation before humans, the second naming human creation before plants).

These differences led most scholars to believe that these are two distinct stories, written down centuries apart, by two different sources. One story seemed clearly to be the sort of tale told around ancient campfires, a way of explaining the existence of human beings, the creatures who lived in proximity to those humans, the usages that humans were to make of those living things, and the need for rest after many days of hard work.

The second story is of moral importance, whereas the first is an oral legend of physical creation. The second story describes God’s relationship with his human creation; this story is of a parental figure who commands obedience, gives many gifts and requires discipline and resistance of temptation, even temptation he has set before them. When his children succumb to that temptation, he punishes and curses them.

The first story describes a benevolent creator; the second, a paternalistic, vengeful figure.

Editorial comment: It’s interesting to me to note that many, perhaps most, of the religious traditions which take these stories literally tend to worship a more paternalistic and harsh God, while those who understand the stories to be metaphorical have a softer, gentler deity in their hearts. Interestingly, too, the doctrines of literal-minded religious faiths tend to be more rigid, less open to acts of compassion. Not that metaphorical-minded religions are perfectly compassionate, but there seems to be more of an openness to new truth in most of the more progressive religious traditions.

The Clergy Letter Project, founded by Dr. Michael Zimmerman, a professor at Butler University, has had as its goal, for the past 6 years, proving that science and religion are not incompatible, that thousands and thousands of clergy from all faiths understand the importance of science and religion in human lives and believe that the two disciplines do not have to be mutually exclusive.

Dr. Zimmerman has written the following: Ever since the Scopes Trial in 1925, evolution has been under attack by those who think it is more important to promote their narrow religious perspective than to understand the natural world. In the immediate aftermath of the Scopes Trial, virtually all traces of evolution vanished from American science textbooks and evolution remained missing until the early 1960s, when Americans realized that Soviet science education was fast outpacing American science education.

Creationists, in the name of religion, first outlawed the teaching of human evolution and then, when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that unconstitutional, they began to use a number of ruses to promote their religious doctrines by claiming they were in favor of freedom of inquiry. They pretended to turn their religion into science by calling it "creation science" and when that too was ruled unconstitutional they changed the name again and promoted "intelligent design." The U.S. courts also ruled that strategy unconstitutional. Despite all of these legal setbacks, creationists have kept up their relentless attack on evolution, the most important concept in all of biology. It has been termed a religion. It has been portrayed as nothing more than a "theory." And it has been characterized, by those with precious little biological background, as pseudoscientific claptrap.

Despite the lack of intellectual and scientific substance to the attacks on evolution, the constant refrain from creationists that evolution is responsible for virtually all of modern society's ills has largely shaped the public's perception of the issue. Large segments of the public, ignorant of both basic biology and common theology, reject evolution believing that it is bad science and contrary to their religious beliefs. Even as scientists, building upon the principles of evolutionary theory, make the most astounding breakthroughs in the understanding of the human genome, leading to medical advances previously only dreamed possible, creationists work tirelessly to keep evolution from being taught in our public schools. Most politicians are scared to endorse this basic biological principle fearing a backlash in the name of religion…

(The Project) purposefully brings attention to (an) issue that religious fundamentalists find most abhorrent. (Project) participants are not looking to deify Darwin, however. Instead, they are simply attempting to demonstrate that his ideas, reshaped enormously in the 152 years since he published On the Origin of Species, are important to a modern worldview and are fully compatible with modern religious teachings. By doing this, they are proudly taking active steps to publicly define religion in a positive manner.

Other authorities support and amplify Zimmerman’s case. Paul Horwitz, a physicist turned education researcher, in an online article published this month by Education Week, says this:

“My opinion is that creationism in all its forms, including intelligent design, is not science; and that it is vitally important that we not teach nonscience as if it were science… Creationism is not science because it introduces causes outside of nature in order to explain observations of nature… Theories like that do not foster inquiry; rather, they close off discussion…That’s why creationism shouldn’t be taught as science, not because it’s wrong, but because it isn’t science… The goal of science is to discover things, to create new knowledge, to understand new phenomena. Nonscience does none of these things… It also eliminates…any opportunity to discover natural explanations for natural phenomena… To allow nonscience to be taught as though it were science would be a mistake of literally global dimensions.”

Horwitz goes on to say that he would love to teach a class that contrasted creationism/intelligent design and science in order to help students appreciate the difference. I wish he would!

The intersection of religion and science has become a political issue, pitting those who would ban these scientific findings in classrooms against those who see it as an issue of intellectual freedom and a violation of the separation of church and state. Creationists tend to see the issue as a denial of God, of the existence of power beyond human power and often call their adversaries “atheists” and “heretics”.

Charles Darwin himself had doubts about his faith, as he explored his findings and the conclusions they led to. He struggled with friends and family who tried to get him to set aside his work and cleave to a traditional faith. But he could not set aside his reasoning and his integrity in order to stay within the bounds of his culture and society.

Charles Darwin was one of us, a Unitarian from birth, though in later life he attended Anglican schools. Eventually he married Emma Wedgwood, a strong Unitarian herself, who accepted his ideas but feared that his radical beliefs might separate them in the afterlife. (I guess she wasn’t also a Universalist, or she would have known better!)

Though Darwin’s findings were revolutionary and controversial, they gradually found acceptance across the scientific community and even among liberal clergy in the Anglican tradition. Darwin had started out an orthodox believer, but after his voyage on The Beagle, where he collected much of his information and knowledge, he became an avowed agnostic and no longer attended any church.

He died a wellknown, if not completely well-accepted, scientist and philosopher. He was wrongfully associated with the proliferation of such ideas as Eugenics and Social Darwinism, theories which invoked ethical concerns about treatment of the poor and sickly. He himself did believe that females were less eminent than males because of sexual selection, but a woman named Antoinette Brown Blackwell, the first woman ordained to parish ministry in the United States, disputed that claim eloquently in her own writings.

In recent years, I’ve become more and more concerned about what I see as the creeping miasma of distrust of and resistance to science and its contributions to human life and understandings.

Perhaps it’s because of the conflicting claims of the pharmaceutical industry, or because research seems to issue confusing and contradictory reports about the effects of any number of health issues. Whatever it is, we have begun to look askance at the claims of science.

It’s probably a good thing to be critical of science, to investigate for ourselves the claims of research and to be aware of the many temptations scientists have, as they scramble for funding of their research and deal with the promises of money in exchange for certain findings, particularly as our economy is stretched tighter and tighter and research is often paid for by corporations, not unbiased regulatory agencies.

But it feels to me like a place where Unitarian Universalists can contribute to a greater understanding of the scientific process, the findings of science, the ethical issues involved, the intended and unintended consequences of each new finding. And it was for this reason that we started, this past fall, the Lyceum 2.0 series of dialogues between Whidbey Islanders and scientists from the University of Washington and other agencies.

It feels like a social action project of sorts, to offer to the community an opportunity to discuss with women and men who are deeply involved in their various scientific discipline, to ask them pointed questions about the ethics and consequences of their discoveries, and to dispel some of the suspicion which is so prevalent in society. I am so glad that many of you attend those lectures and actively participate in the conversation. (The next one is a week from Wednesday!)

But, returning to the evolution debate, I am convinced that the issue for the fundamentalist community is one of fear, fear of changing beliefs, fear that the consequences of that change will be a crisis of faith.

For after all, humankind’s understanding of the power beyond human power, which many call God, has changed radically as science has advanced our knowledge of the universe. Our little world was once considered to be the center of creation and we believed that the sun, moon, and stars revolved around it every day and night. We were the most important place in the universe and under God’s special care. As our knowledge of the sun, moon, and stars grew, we began to understand that we were only one of billions of planets and solar systems, our sun only one of millions of suns, our world a speck in the sky to somebody else.

Change is hard. Change is scary. And though I still wonder about my parents’ thoughts on that night in 1960, I am confident that, if there is any consciousness left to them after death, they have more understanding of it all than I do. I can only do my best to comprehend the mystery of creation and what it means in our world today. And I think that, if they were able to tell me anything today, they would tell me that they love me and trust me to do my best to understand and to serve the world with my understanding.

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 Science and Reasoning are foundational to our religious life but that they are not deities to be worshipped. They are tools to use as we discover the meaning of life. May we be gentle with those who disagree with us and may we serve our world with compassion and strength. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Evolution Rocks: the song, by Overman

Tomorrow's sermon is a belated contribution to the Clergy Letter Project's Evolution Weekend, which others tended to observe on Feb. 14. At my church we do Valentines Day on Valentines Day weekend, so we postponed our Evolution service for a month.

This song will be the special music/aka "reading" for the service. Ken Merrell will sing and play it on his ukulele. Should be a smash! Listen to it here (I can't get the link to publish, sorry): http://www.overman.info/evolutionrocks.html

You'll get the sermon tomorrow. I kinda like it myself.

iPhone, uPhone, we all phone for iPhone...

Lame, yes. But no lamer than my resistance to actually carrying around my new iPhone. I've been taking it slow, learning to do one thing or another, but never actually tucking the phone in my pocket or purse so that I could pull it out and use it for something.

The Favorite Son called the other day to talk----on the iPhone----and, of course, there was nobody home. On the iPhone, that is. He had to call the landline to find me. I was, of course, home by the landline. He was disappointed, to say the least, and so was I. Because I bought the thing so that I could do all the kool things he can do with his iPhone. And I'm not doing them. Yet.

There's a piece of me that just doesn't want to be available all the time. I'm a little nervous that, if I carry my phone around TURNED ON, I will be inundated with calls. I will be one of those folks walking through the grocery store talking on the phone, doing pastoral care over the broccoli, checking out the nutrient count of an unlabeled product via Google, or GPSing my way home from downtown Freeland. This is not a pretty picture.

I need the right kind of pockets to carry an iPhone; that's one of my excuses. Jeans pockets are too tight and shirt pockets too loose. I don't want it clipped to my belt or waistband like guys do. I'd be forever (this is assuming, of course, that people actually did call me a lot) pulling up my shirt to get at my belt or waistband, and, again, this is not a pretty picture. I have a friend who wears hers in a little pouch around her neck, festooned with keys and nestled among the credit cards and driver's license. This would be handy for many occasions, but I'm not too sure about the dangling aspects of phonewear.

I am enchanted, however, with the iPhone's capability. How very easy it is to phone the FS or text him or send him a picture of my new hair color (though he did not comment when we talked, which I attribute to the seriousness of the conversation we had). It's a snap to take a picture of myself or the cats or the snowfall.

There's a philosophical aspect to all this too. As I think about it, my sense of my life right now is as a rock in the middle of a stream, just observing the life around me, letting it flow, not needing to document it constantly. I am less concerned about UUA politics or even the urgent issues of injustice the world is experiencing right now; I don't mind about the UUA politics part, but I am trying to understand my present less-than-avid passion for collective bargaining or MidEast revolution or reproductive rights or the like. I still care and support the same liberal issues, but I have been letting others do the passion part. (One important exception: bglt civil rights will always be something I'm passionate about---I have too many bglt friends right here on my doorstep to let that slide.)

Uh oh, another blog post. As I said before, don't get used to it! I'm not preaching again till March 13, and at that time you will be faced with "Evolution Rocks".

So, on this dreary Monday morning....

which seems to want to keep us winterbound as long as possible, I decided to get out the new box of hair color I bought a week ago and refresh my wintry locks with a little jolt. It was a variety I hadn't used before but it was the same brand and it said something about covering the gray, so I went with it.

The product itself didn't seem like the product I'd used in the far away past, but I figured it was updated and continued to apply the pre-conditioner and then mix the color and then apply the color and then set the timer (30 minutes? the other stuff was 15---I hope this is okay!). Rinsing out the goo after 30 minutes, I noticed it had a slightly different color than the stuff I'd used before---darker, somehow, and .....what?!!

So----I'm now a strawberry blonde, for the nonce. It's a great color, it's just not something I'm used to. My normal hair color is light enough that the gray looks kind of blonde, when mixed in with the remaining blondish strands. (I refuse to use the term "dishwater blonde"; what an ugly description!) I haven't colored my hair for years, and six weeks ago when I used up an old box of hair color left over from those days, it didn't do anything unusual, just brightened up my look.

I've had the song "Why Not Me?" by the Judds looping through my mind for weeks, as I try to learn it for this Thursday night's gig, and when I woke up at 4 a.m. today, I thought it might be more than just a song I'm learning. I've come to understand that when a song might not go away and I wake up singing it, there may be a message there.

I have thought, all my life, about "why not me?", in an effort to understand how and why I am different from so-called "normal"---in good and bad ways. So I decided at 4 a.m. that today I am going to spend some time thinking and writing about the topic, because I have a feeling it's more meaningful than the lines of the song: "why not me on a rainy day, why not me to love your cares away, why not me?" Which is meaningful in its own way, as I think about somebody, but the question means so much more than that.

Heavens, it's a real blog post! Don't get used to it, though I may publish fragments of my "why not me?" thinking. The less-embarrassing ones, that is.

The reason I haven't posted much in recent months is that the issues I'm pondering are too personal to post. Nothing traumatic, just too easily identifiable as relating to people who read the blog. Not you, FS.

Hopefully the dry spell will pass and I'll be back at it. But you know, Facebook has drained off some of my need to write---there are such interesting articles and it's lots easier just to link to an article or share a quick comment than to actually compose something for the blog.

Also, I have noticed a distressing quality of impatience within myself and it makes it hard to tolerate dissenting opinions. Why not me, being patient? I'll let you know if I figure it out.

And why not me as a strawberry blonde? Hmmmm, that's a good question!

What's Sex Got to Do WIth It?

WHAT’S SEX GOT TO DO WITH IT?
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Feb. 27, 2011

I was born the third child to parents who had lost two baby boys to stillbirth or miscarriage in the years before my arrival. And in those war years, when my parents were struggling with many issues, my birth must have seemed miraculous, after so much disappointment and heartache.

As I look back at my childhood, I realize that I was one of those few lucky girl-children who never (that I can remember) heard: “girls aren’t doctors or lawyers or ministers or police officers”. I don’t remember any comments from my parents about throwing like a girl or pretending to be dumb so as not to discourage boyfriends or that sort of thing.

I also don’t remember anyone saying “you are the son your parents wanted as a first child, so they are going to treat you as though you can do everything any boy can do” and I never got the feeling that I should have been a boy, but I was a major tomboy from day one, rarely shy, rarely diffident, mostly confident about my place in life.

But as I got closer to puberty, things got more complicated. I became interested in boys and my girlfriends’ more advanced knowledge about sexuality began to infiltrate my consciousness. I suddenly realized that I was actually a girl; maybe not exactly the kind of more feminine girl my classmates were, but a girl nevertheless, with the same kind of biological potential that they had, the same kinds of biological worries and awarenesses, and the same dangers that girlhood implied.

American culture in those days did have certain assumptions about girls. We took home ec instead of shop; we had girls rules for basketball; we were the cheerleaders, not the players; we were the secretaries of the class and the FFA sweethearts and the Homecoming Queens and Princesses.

We were not so often the presidents or the athletic stars; we played more of a supporting role. And yet we beat the sox off the boys academically and generally were heavily represented on the honor roll every quarter, all the while pretending that it was just luck, not real brains!

And at the time, this all seemed pretty normal to me. It didn’t much bother me that we had to play half-court basketball, though I knew we were perfectly capable of playing full-court. It just seemed like a privilege not to have to race up and down the court so far and so often; nobody was watching our games anyhow, as it was too early for Title Nine awareness of the inequities between girls and boys sports.

I knew at some level that I was capable of doing just about anything any of my male classmates could do---except maybe for football, which seemed excessively violent---but I could also do anything my female classmates could do: drive a truck in harvest, ride my horse many miles on trail rides, get excellent grades in my classes---except maybe for home ec, which seemed excessively boring. I could and did do anything that was interesting, within the limits of Baptist preacher’s kid boundaries.

No movies, no dancing, no card playing, no drinking, no smoking: all of which added up, pretty much, to no dating. And I didn’t date till college, which was when a lot of the restrictions of female-hood took over, in the guise of “in loco parentis”, and dictated what time the girls needed to be in the dorms or where they could go on sorority and fraternity outings.

I’d been pretty well protected in my parents’ home, so it didn’t seem outrageous that we had to be in our dorms well before the boys were required to be in theirs! If my older brothers had lived, I might have chafed against any inklings that they were given more freedom than I, but there were no big brothers to gloat over my captivity.

All in all, a pretty normal 50’s style upbringing for a girl who was bright, whose parents hoped she would go to college but didn’t have specific expectations for her except for the unspoken hope that she might be in public or religious service of some kind. I don’t even remember any conversation about marriage and children.

During my college years, I majored in Modern Languages, mostly Spanish and French, thinking vaguely about being an interpreter with the United Nations or other diplomatic group, but upon graduation realized that what I’d learned in college was not conversational Spanish or French but rather literary language skills. I’d translated Don Quijote from ancient Spanish to modern English during my senior year but that didn’t seem very helpful when it came to getting a job!

So I went home to Goldendale to live with my parents, help out in the church with the junior choir, be bored, and look for work somewhere besides Goldendale! During this fallow period, I considered my options and nearly applied to go to seminary in Berkeley CA, where a number of my Linfield classmates had gone to study for the American Baptist ministry.

Upon investigation, however, I discovered that the only thing women seminarians were trained to do was to be Directors of Christian Education. It hadn’t yet occurred to me that I might be an actual minister myself, but it rankled that women were restricted in our faith to a role which seemed very subservient. Important, yes, but not autonomous, not independent. Another “supporting” role. And that didn’t interest me at all.

Eventually, I qualified and trained to be a public assistance caseworker for Washington State (also known as welfare worker) and began my career in Klickitat and Skamania counties, down in the Columbia River Gorge.

I was mentored in this work by a woman in my dad’s church, Ruth Miller, a feisty older woman who didn’t take guff from anyone and I suspect she had our supervisor, Mr. Zink, pretty well buffaloed into respecting her and the other women in the department, myself included.

This was a good experience for me, but I was still living at home and eventually left the PNW for Baptist missionary work at the Denver Christian Center, where women also got a pretty good shake, even though we couldn’t be pastors---yet. We had the respect of our clients and our supervisors.

So it took me a long time to “get it”, to understand that there were inequities between treatment of men and women employees, inequities in educational and employment opportunities, stereotypes of both genders and their capabilities, and oppression and injustice on both sides of the fence.

But standing back and looking at the sexism scene through a long lens gave me the perspective to see that, as MLK once said, "We are bound by an inescapable garment of mutuality; whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly." -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., from the Birmingham jail, 1962.

So just as racism affected people of color, it also affected those who were racist, damaging both sides in irreparable ways. Social disadvantage and discrimination damaged people of color; hate and persecuting ways damaged the souls of those who dealt out oppression.

Since that time, I’ve applied MLK’s words to many forms of oppression: sexism, homophobia, ageism, classism, among others. And I can see that, despite the rewards of privilege, the damage of oppression comes to us all, whether we receive injustice or dish it out.

Getting ready for this service entitled “What’s Sex Got to Do With It?”, I did some brainstorming, trying to delineate between the main modern usages of the word “sex”, seeing if I could clump the actions associated with the usages into helpful groups, as I tussled with the topic.

Gladys and I and her son Ted and husband Mitch sat around their kitchen table and puzzled over the myriad of ways the topic might go, some of which were a bit complicated for a 20-minute sermon, but all of which stirred my brain and got me going.

The word “sex”, in my eventual sorting out of its usages, if not literal meanings, can refer to sexuality---which I am thinking of as the biological capabilities within a male or female organism. It can mean gender---or what I am thinking of as what it means to be male or female within a culture---and it can refer to physical sexual acts.

Working with these fluid and even murky quasi-definitions (and I freely admit that I have tried to define them according to how I see them used in modern culture), I made some lists.

I thought about what our biology as male, female, intersex, and transgender, dictates as far as our behavior goes. Clearly reproduction is delineated by male and female organs and hormones, though modern science has already fiddled with some of these abilities and we see transgender men bearing babies, in one example.

We’ve learned through science that male and female psychological processes seem to be different, genetic and chromosomal makeup of male and female are different, parenting approaches seem to be different, love is expressed differently, and different physical characteristics such as body strength make some tasks easier for males than females and vice versa.

The scientific community has also found some evidence that homosexual men and women may have some biological differences from heterosexual men and women, but it is not completely clear what they may be. And the biology of intersex, bisexual, and transgender folks is yet another issue to be explored more completely.

There is discussion between researchers of sexuality about whether males and females respond to committed relationships differently, whether males or females are generally happier, more likely to be faithful, more prone to addictions, etc. Biology clearly plays a part in “what sex has to do with it”.

How about gender? I have thought about what the word gender means in our culture, because it is not confined to biological gender. Gender often means roles: women’s work, men’s work. Over the years the word has been defined and redefined, as women and men have taken on each other’s gender roles. Men are often house husbands; women are increasingly often CEOs. Never mind that salaries are out of whack; we’ll consider that another day.

Gender used to mean that women cooked, men did the cars and the military. Women were crummy drivers and wussy athletes; men were in politics, went to war, controlled business, were the head of the family, while women stayed home.

All that has shifted and in an Atlantic magazine article last summer, the headline of an article by Hanna Rosin declared “The End of Men: How Women are Taking Control---of Everything”.

Rosin states that “earlier (in 2010), women became the majority of the workforce for the first time in US history. Most managers are now women too. And for every two men who get a college degree this year, three women will do the same. For years, women’s progress has been cast as a struggle for equality. But what if equality isn’t the end point? What if modern, postindustrial society is simply better suited to women?”

Hmmm, let’s leave that question to the Atlantic to answer and go on to consider the religious and spiritual implications of our topic, “what’s sex got to do with it?”

Sex also means definite physical sexual acts: intercourse of different kinds, erogenous zones enjoying other erogenous zones, sexual stimulation of many kinds, both physical and psychological. Sexual acts can be violent---and thus not about human love at all but about control and humiliation. Sex acts can be horribly damaging to persons who are unwilling or inappropriate as partners.

And it is in this vein that we find the connection to our theme: “what’s sex got to do with it?” For our newsletter blurb this month, I wrote: “Sexuality is a defining characteristic and essential life force of human beings, but it tends to lead us into the temptation of limiting our experience of other people to our preconceived notions of what sex, sexuality, gender, orientation, and biology mean. Why should it matter how anyone “does it”, whether we’re talking about washing dishes, making love, raising kids, or being good persons?”.

Because it’s physical and psychological sexual acts that tend to get us all discombobulated. Many are uncomfortable with same sex relationships either because they themselves are not attracted to members of their own sex and can’t imagine having a sexual relationship with them OR because they are attracted to members of their own sex and feel ashamed and confused by this attraction, therefore try to cover up that attraction by vehemently protesting it in others OR they may have been sexually violated as children by a member of their own sex and have generalized that violation to a whole population of people.

An increasing number of us have gotten beyond all three of these discomfort zones, but the American political and cultural scene reveals deep fear and antipathy for those who “do it” differently.

Let me be clear that I am not condoning the illegal and damaging sexual acts of child molestation, incest, rape, and other violations of human sexual identity and dignity. These are not legitimate sexual acts; they are about control, and they must be dealt with definitively with appropriate punishment and rehabilitation of the perpetrator, where possible.

The places where how people “do it” tend to be mostly in the areas of sexism and homophobia/heterosexism, areas where privilege resides in the dominant person or paradigm.
Patriarchy is still clearly present, though less obvious, in many segments of our culture---salaries, management positions, many religious cultures, many marriages, and the military, for example. Sexual misconduct occurs across the board, primarily directed toward females.

Those in dominant positions tend to be male; sometimes they are benevolent males, sometimes not. Physical strength has often been the rationale for dominance; less value was given to other kinds of strength, though as the Atlantic article points out, this may be changing as women increasingly fill up the workplace. Men tend to be the ones out of work these days, in greater numbers than women.

Deep fear and outright hate for same sex couples seems to be centered in discomfort with how same sex partners “do it”, the variations on the sex act that seem different from heterosexual activity.

Interestingly, there is very little that same sex couples do sexually that is not also done by opposite sex couples! But the fear remains, largely, I think, in the minds of those who worry that their own sexual attractions are unclear---to others and to themselves. There is no logical reason to be afraid of a gay man or lesbian; it is an emotional issue.

But that emotion tends to put gay, lesbian, bisexual, intersex, and transgender individuals into boxes defined by how they are perceived to behave sexually, just as females are often seen as sex objects by those in dominant positions.

So what does this all mean to us as a religious community, as spiritual seekers, as women and men together who care for each other, who wish to model that caring in appropriate ways?

Our UU principles are pretty clear about our commitment to respecting the worth and dignity of every person, about our hope for justice, equity and compassion in our relationships, about our acceptance of one another for who we are, our desire for world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all, and our respect for the interdependent web of all existence, which MLK expressed so eloquently in his letter from the Birmingham jail in 1962.

Our Covenant of Right Relations, which we passed unanimously last Sunday, also calls us to be respectful, kind, honoring our diversity and striving to be honest and loving with each other. It doesn’t say anything specific about dividing work up equitably and without traditional divisions of labor, and I think we need to look at that.

We are lucky to have a couple of men working with our children, but mostly it’s women. We are lucky to have a few men who cook a dish when potlucks come around, but mostly it’s women. We are lucky to have gay and lesbian folks in our congregation, but are they part of our governance and teaching staff? Are we really doing what we say we want to do?

If you are a male who is not working with our children, ask yourself why. Are you stuck in an old paradigm of “that’s for the women to do?” If you are a male who counts on his wife or the other women in the congregation to pull together the potluck dish, ask yourself why. Do you still consider yourself exempt from culinary responsibilities?

If you are a straight person who has some leadership responsibility but is not currently working with a gay person, male or female, ask yourself why. Are you unsure of what it might mean to have a gay person in leadership?

This topic, of course, deserves far more extensive treatment than we are able to handle in an hour-long worship service. But the questions remain and we can tussle with them privately and in our families. I ask you to do so.

What does sex have to do with it? Everything? Nothing? Does it matter? And what does our answer mean, to us individually, in this community, and in the world beyond our doors?

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, considering the roles sex plays in our lives and in the lives of others. May we consciously deal with our habits and fears in ways that open us up to others in new ways and may we as a community not let ourselves slide into unequal patterns of responsibility, for we depend on each other for our happiness. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

What's Love Got to Do With It?

WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT?
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Feb. 13, 2011

Part I:
As I was thinking about the sermon the other morning, getting ready to sit down and write, a little frantic because my own experiences with romantic love, at least, have been a little erratic, a little unsatisfactory, and quite a lot painful at times. And as I was reflecting, in prayer, that evening, I realized that, though I may not have a lot of great romantic experience, I have plenty of experience with deep love, a wider love than romantic love, and this hymn popped into my head. I’ll read you the words of two of my favorite verses.

“O Love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee, I give Thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be. O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to Thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain and feel the promise is not vain that morn shall tearless be.”

This is, of course, a very old hymn out of what I think of as the mystical tradition of Christianity, far removed from the literality of much of today’s traditional doctrine, and set firmly in a faith that recognizes the depth and breadth and universality of Love, linking it to the depth and breadth and universality of Joy, its sister.

I offer you this vision of Love to set the path of our reflection for today. We’re going to look at Love in three ways: the way of our most intimate relationships with beloved individuals; the way of our relationships within this congregation; and the way of our relationships with the wider world beyond these walls. And we’ll link it to Joy, its ultimate reward.

And I want us to look at Love---and Joy---as bigger than temporary romantic thrills or….. even the pleasures of chocolate! I want us to look at these two life forces as essential to our lives as individuals, our lives as a community, and our lives as contributors to society.

I invite you to close your eyes for a moment or two and let yourself think about the love in your life, particularly the love you receive from and give to the persons and creatures in your life, now and back as far as you care to go. (a few moments silence)

With your eyes still closed, answer this question either quietly or aloud: “Who do you love?: (say names out loud or only to yourself, whichever you wish) And then this question: “Who loves you?” (again, silently or aloud, whichever you wish).

What are the features of that love? Deep love may be physically intimate, or not; it may be painful at times, it may be exuberant or serene. It may be all of these things. Much of it depends on the nature of our interactions with the person or creature we love. It takes thought to express love in ways that the other person or creature can receive.

How do we express our love to a dear person or a dear creature? You notice I’m including non-human beings in my wonderings. Many of us live with a mate but almost as many of us live with other creatures---pets or wildlife or growing things. What tenderness do we offer to the living beings in our lives? How does that tenderness and affection freely given enhance our life together?

I don’t have a mate but I do have cats! Cats who thrive on my attention and care, cats who purr noisily in my lap, cats who gobble down the Friskies I spoon into their bowls, cats who are glad to see me when I come home, cats who receive the best care and affection I can give them. And what do we receive from those living beings? We can’t order our beloved ones to treat us in certain ways; we generally have to learn how our mates or our children or our pets give love.

The way my son gives love, for example, is pretty much how I like it to be---a phone call every couple of weeks, no requests for money, or at least not usually, an occasional request for advice about raising teenagers, an interest in how I’m doing, a strong “I love you, Mom” at the end of each call. When we are together, he hugs me, lets me give him a kiss on the cheek, is grateful for what I do for him, cherishes me and pays attention when I speak, even if he disagrees. He even reads all my sermons, which is a pretty great tribute for a minister!

One of our UU composers, the late Malvina Reynolds, wrote a lovely song about love: “Love is something, if you give it away, give it away, give it away, Love is something if you give it away, you end up having more. It’s just like a magic penny, hold it tight and you won’t have any. Lend it, spend it, and you’ll have so many, they’ll roll all over the floor, for Love is something if you give it away….you end up having more.”

When we are in relationship with those closest and dearest to us, we usually make a strong effort to keep those relationships warm and rewarding for both parties. It isn’t always easy. Sometimes dear ones are estranged from us; sometimes it takes a lot of work not to throw up our hands in frustration and give up, especially when there are major points of disagreement or dissatisfaction.

But if it’s worth it, if there are many years invested, if there are others to consider, we tend to make the effort as long as we can, not wanting to let go of a love that has been sustaining in the past and might be again. We are instinctively, I think, committed to love as long as we can manage it.

Our desire and instinct to love those closest to us does not die just because we are angry with each other. It takes a betrayal or serious injury of some kind to discourage that instinctive behavior. Chances are we have all been there. Chances are we, right now, have a great deal of love to give the beloved ones in our lives, a great deal of love to give away.

In a phrase in his song “Everything Possible”, UU composer and minister Fred Small has written: “You can live by yourself, you can gather friends around, you can choose one special one, and the only measure of your words and your deeds will be the love you leave behind when you’re done.” With those words in mind, let’s continue with the elements of our worship.

Part Two

Let’s sit for a few moments in silence and consider what the experience of Joys and Concerns means to us. (silence) As we have listened to the joys and concerns of our gathered community, I’m wondering what thoughts and feelings arose for you as our fellow congregants spoke of their lives.

This time during our service gives us a chance to learn what’s going on in others’ lives, their struggles, their griefs, their hopes, their joys. As we listen, we may have a myriad of varied reactions.

We may feel compassionate or sorrowful at hearing of a loss, sympathetic or eager to help if we hear of a need, tickled by a triumph but sometimes even impatient or skeptical, if it’s not our thing or if we are feeling cranky or tired.

But Joys and Concerns is a snapshot, a bird’s eye view of our congregation. In these moments we have a chance to see the humanness, the much-varied lives of our fellow seekers. It can feel sweetly sentimental or jarringly tragic. But Joys and Concerns always invites us into a place of shared life---and love---with our community.

I have experienced this ritual in many congregations over the years, and have seen it used appropriately but also as a bully pulpit for attacking someone, for expressing political opinions, for deriding another person’s faith tradition, for making assumptions about what everyone there believed about some issue, in addition to the more positive candles for soccer wins or lost teeth or birthdays or healings.

I was the worship leader one day many years ago at my home church in Colorado when the teenage son of a former minister who had been asked to resign spoke his mind about the way he thought his mother had been treated by the congregation. Not an easy thing to hear, or respond to, yet very personal and moving and a reminder to our congregation that our actions have unintended consequences.

We are reminded during this time of our shared life, of the losses we have faced and may still face, of the joys we have experienced and have yet to experience. We grieve and rejoice together for a few moments during our service.

Most congregations have a way of letting everyone know what’s going on in the lives of members and friends. Those who don’t have a candle-lighting ceremony such as Joys and Concerns make an effort to announce needs and happy occasions in some way, either from the pulpit or in the O/S or newsletter. It’s really important to know of the struggles and triumphs that we individually are facing. How else can we help out? And these events affect our life together as a community.

Our life experiences help to create the atmosphere of our community. If we are grieving, we may be short-tempered. If we are rejoicing, we may be impatient with another’s sorrow. But we also may be aware, in our grief and our joy, that our responses to each other will be interpreted through a lens we may not understand.

So that if I am grieving some loss and am just trying to make it through the day, I may misinterpret someone else’s words as hurtful when they are not intended to be. If I am joyful about some wonderful event, I may not realize that my excitement may be seen as a slight to someone else.

As we get ready, next Sunday, to vote on our carefully constructed Covenant of Right Relations, we are acknowledging how tricky it can be to get along with each other all of the time. Even happily married couples or longtime friends can get testy and crabby if their toes are stepped on, even accidentally.

Every once in awhile, I hear folks complain about how somebody has hurt their feelings by making a remark or suggestion that rankled. The incident may seem trivial to somebody else, but it has hurt someone deeply or made them feel unimportant or invisible. I occasionally am guilty of making these kinds of remarks and I am also sometimes the one who is hurt.

One of the things I’ve learned over the years, even if I don’t always manage to remember it, is that it is helpful to assume innocent intentions on the part of someone who has hurt my feelings. I have learned that rarely does anyone intend to hurt my feelings; it’s more often that the sensitivity I experience is related to what’s going on in my life at the moment.

I hope our vote on the Covenant of Right Relations next week is a positive vote, a vote to approve it and include it in our official documents, the ones we use in our governance and in our congregational life together. We tend to be a peaceful congregation, generally, and as we grow, it is important to offer that peace to those new folks who join us. Newcomers like to know what the guidelines are, for being together as a faith community, and our Covenant is our baseline guideline.

Our Covenant is based on the affirmation we speak together every Sunday morning: “Love is the spirit of this congregation, and Service is its practice. This is our great covenant, to dwell together in peace, to seek truth in love, and to help one another.”

These beautiful and meaningful words have been fleshed out in the Covenant’s language as promises we make to each other:

We warmly welcome all.
We speak with honesty, respect and kindness.
We listen compassionately.
We express gratitude for the service of others.
We honor and support one another in our life journeys, in times of joy,
need and struggle.
We embrace our diversity and the opportunity to share our different
perspectives.
We address our disagreements directly and openly, and see conflict through
to an authentic resolution.
We serve our spiritual community with generosity and joy, honoring our
commitments.
We strive to keep these promises, but when we fall short, we forgive
ourselves and others, and begin again in love.

Our Covenant is not going to be a law, a set of rules. It will be an ideal to strive for, a way of reminding ourselves about the human behaviors that most exemplify the life of the Beloved Community.

Let’s consider these ideas as we move forward in our worship service.

Part 3:

The Rev. Dr. Rebecca Parker, president of Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley, has written:

Your gifts - whatever you discover them to be -

Can be used to bless or curse the world.

The mind's power,
The strength of the hands,
The reaches of the heart,

The gift of speaking, listening, imagining, seeing, waiting

Any of these can serve to feed the hungry,

Bind up wounds,

Welcome the stranger,

Praise what is sacred,

Do the work of justice
Or offer love.


Any of these can draw down the prison door,

Hoard bread,
Abandon the poor,
Obscure what is holy,

Comply with injustice,
Or withhold love.

You must answer this question:
What will you do with your gifts?


Choose to bless the world.



The choice to bless the world can take you into solitude

To search for the sources of power and grace,

Native wisdom, healing and liberation.

More, the choice will draw you into community,

The endeavor shared,

The heritage passed on,

The companionship of struggle,

The importance of keeping faith,

The life of ritual and praise,

The comfort of human friendship,

The company of earth,

Its chorus of life welcoming you.



None of us alone can save the world.

Together -- that is another possibility,
Waiting.

Rebecca Parker

This morning we have taken up a special offering for WAIF, our island animal protection agency. These donations every month to a variety of helping agencies on Whidbey are one way we choose to bless the world. By reaching out to abandoned animals and their caregivers, we say emphatically that we care what happens to the animals in our world and we are grateful to those who volunteer their time and energy to caring for the many homeless animals on the island.

How are we as a community blessing the world in other ways? Let’s reflect silently for a moment or two on this thought. (silence)

I’ve been noticing the sign on the Trinity Lutheran marquee this week, which states “Do the Math! Count your blessing!” I’m not sure if the sign is intended to read “count your blessings (plural)” but I kind of like the way it turned out, because I’ve thought, every time I drive by, “Yes! My blessing counts, in this world!” I can bless the world, with my every action.

Those of us who were brought up in strict conservative Christian homes might have gotten the notion that only God---or a clergyperson---could give blessing, that mere mortals were not “blessed” with that ability.

But I disagree. We are all capable of giving blessing. Our every act of giving love is giving blessing. When we raise our arms in an arch over our children as they leave for their classes, we are giving them our blessing as a community.

When we offer love to any living thing, we are giving blessing. When we take care of our own health and needs, we are giving blessing. When we offer kindness to our mates, our kids, our friends, we give blessing. When we care for the earth, whether it’s by refraining from littering or polluting, whether it’s by tending a garden or indoor plants or watching protectively for deer or other wildlife on the highway, we are blessing the earth and its creatures.

So, circling back around to the title of this sermon, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” Here’s what I think: Love has everything to do with it. It is our most potent power, to love. It affects every aspect of our lives and can be used to heal or, if warped and maimed into false love, it can be used to destroy.

We can choose to bless or to curse each other, our community, and the world. If we bless, the outcome is Joy; if we curse, the outcome is Despair. What will we choose?

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 the power of love is our power, our strength, our opportunity. May we go forth in love to bless the world, to bless our community, and to bless all those we love. And in so doing, may we reap the blessing of Love, which is Joy. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.