Ruminations on Sin

Chalice Chick has been ruminating this morning about sin and how it plays out institutionally in society. Go read what she has to say here.

I've been thinking about it too, though more in the context of social justice. On the bulletin board directly in front of where I sit at the computer, I've written myself a little note (written long ago in response to some of the more outrageous stuff out there objecting to marriage equality). I might have posted it before, but I'll do it again, since I've revised it a bit:

Love is not a sin.
Commitment is not a sin.
Taking responsibility is not a sin.
Being true to your whole self is not a sin.
Sex between consenting adults is not a sin.
Trust is not a sin.

Injustice is a sin.
Betrayal is a sin.
Resentment is a sin.
Being dishonest about who you are is a sin.
Rape is a sin.
Faithlessness is a sin.

Fear is normal, but love casts out fear.

I think fear is often at the root of the actions I would call sin: fear that someone is going to hurt us and therefore we make it illegal for them to do certain things or fear that someone is going to betray us and therefore we betray them first, fear that we are not as capable as we need to be and therefore we resent and undermine those who are, fear that we are not able to have a normal sexual relationship and therefore we force others into sexual acts, fear that we do not deserve faithfulness and therefore we are faithless ourselves.

I've always found it interesting that Unitarian Universalists have a very mixed reaction to the word "Sin", as though none of us would ever do such a thing. When we do something wrong, what do we call it? Sometimes it makes sense to call it a mistake, but when we do something wrong deliberately? Is there a better word than "Sin"?

Sin is something that we ought to feel guilty about! There's another word we don't like---guilt. But it just means feeling disturbed that we did something hurtful to another person and taking responsibility for it. It's the overblown, hyped use of the word that is meaningless---when we obsess about our guilt and don't actually do anything to atone for it.

I'm getting ready to announce to the congregation tomorrow that UUCWI is undertaking what I'm calling "Proposal 2009: Standing on the Side of Love". My sermon is about MLK Jr. and his leadership of the Silent Generation and Baby Boomers into being activists for social change, referring to his statement that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere". I am going to tell them enough about the plan to help them see its connection to our status as a Welcoming Congregation and our desire to be social activists in our community and then invite them to a conversation next week about its theological underpinnings---Principles One and Five of UUism.

I'm excited about the chance to offer good will and welcome to a group of folks who have been historically mistreated and misunderstood by a society that is afraid of those who are different. A chance to offer love instead of fear? That's the way I see it.

Beau and Frodo

Beau and Frodo belong to Neal and Bridgit, who host Bayview Sound rehearsals at their home every week. Frodo tends to stay underneath things when we visit, though he is getting braver. Beau, however, is the ultimate extrovert and all he wants to do is play. Here he is in quieter moments with Frodo. Can you guess which is which?

Starting a new life

No, not me, but a woman I had lunch with today, a longtime member of our congregation who is moving away, far away, to be closer to one family member in a place where she knows almost no one. As I listened to her, I was astounded at the personal courage and commitment she had mustered to make this immense change.

She's not a person who does this sort of thing easily, it seems to me, and as we talked about her leaving friends behind, leaving behind a home she has loved, leaving a community where she has fit so well, my admiration for her grew. She doesn't know what she will find in the new place---friends? a beloved home? a church home? a new job or outlet for her skills?

The one thing she knows for sure is that the family member is worth this move. And that has given her the strength to pull up stakes and go.

I'm reminded of ancestors who bet everything they had on a homestead in Wyoming or Oregon, packed their belongings, and left the old place in Missouri or Ohio to start a new life. The chances people are willing to take in are astounding.

One thing she feels she can count on is the UU congregation in her new locale. She is confident she will find friends there, a warm reception. She's an honest and forthright person, authentic, reserved, completely herself. She's also tender, sensitive. I hope her new church home welcomes her wholeheartedly. If she comes to your church, please take her in and help her feel at home.

Pictures from the Trilogy house concert

Kit, Richard, and Debbie in the middle of a song.

Praise for Richard who has just performed "Puttin' on the Ritz" as part of the concert.

The concert went beautifully. We had a full house, fabulous refreshments, and lots of applause. Thanks to all the folks who helped us put it on and bought tickets at last spring's auction. You made the year's worth of rehearsing worth it!

Trilogy Performance Tonight!

Tonight is the house concert that Debbie, Richard, and I have been preparing for over a year. It has been a lot of work and a lot of fun, and I am glad we've done it. For one thing, I've gotten to know both of these musicians much better and have become very fond of them personally and as musicians. We've had some differences, but we've been able to work them out pretty amicably.

It's been really good for me to take part in this kind of sustained rehearsal; their parts are far more demanding than mine and sometimes I have to wait for them to work out a chord sequence or address a technical problem or tune their instruments again.

But it's time well spent. My musical knowledge has grown a great deal since I've been practicing with them. I know more about chords, more about rhythm, more about tonality, more about the instruments they play, and especially more about what it means to make music in a small group.

The songs we'll be doing tonight include "Stardust", "Skylark", "Heart and Soul", "The Nearness of You", "Two Sleepy People", a medley of "Lazy Bones" and "Bidin' My Time", as well as others in the same general time period and genre. Richard and I sing harmony together on a couple of them and Richard and Debbie do two instrumentals, "Two Kites" and "Soir et Matin". The concert will last about 75 minutes with no intermission.

The audience is made up of folks from the Whidbey congregation and a few extra friends, about 25 people in all, including ourselves. The hosts will provide refreshments before and after.

I don't know whether Trilogy will continue or not. We've talked about offering the same program at Rockhoppers, a local venue, and we may do that. But both Richard and I are dubious about working up anything new because of our additional commitment to Bayview Sound, which has Rockhoppers gigs on Feb. 7 and 28, meaning a lot of rehearsal time between now and then.

So we'll see how things go after tonight. One thing is for sure, our rehearsals together in the kind of intense, concentrated way we've been working for the past two weeks are a thing of the past. We were slowed down by illness and the horrible weather which kept Richard confined on his mountaintop, even with his big 4x4 pickup. So we had to bust our buttons to do the final preparations for tonight. Having that behind us will be a big relief.

I'll try to post pictures if I can remember to take my camera for someone to take some shots. More later.

Harmony as a spiritual practice

Yesterday afternoon during our Bayview Sound rehearsal, we were working on a new song arrangement (Whiskey Evening, by Maria Dunn) and testing harmonies. The house we were meeting in has an empty room which is almost a sound chamber, so we went in there to stand in a tight circle and sing the chorus of the song a cappella, to hear how the various parts sounded together. We've done this before but it didn't hit me quite as hard then as it did last night.

I've expressed before my strong visceral need to make music. Without that opportunity, I tend to become too focused on minutiae, on externals, on angst. I don't even realize how much it affects my happiness to be without the opportunity to make music. I don't mean listening to music. That doesn't have the same effect. I need to be making music, alone or with others.

This often manifests in my singing harmony to the songs I may hear on the radio or CD player. I gravitate toward making harmony, rather than singing lead, though I do like to sing the melody. I've described myself in the past as having an alto nature.

I think it's more than that. I dug out my old copy of "Four Spiritualities", my colleague and friend the Rev. Peter Richardson's book linking Myers Briggs typologies to spiritual nature, and refreshed my memory about my ENFJ personality type and its spiritual nature.

Not surprisingly, that chapter---about NF type---is entitled "The Journey of Harmony". Here's part of that chapter:
"The native spirituality of the Journey of Harmony concentrates in six manifestations of the ... NF personality type: 1. the quest toward authentic, actualized selfhood; 2. mystical harmony; 3. a life attitude of expectancy; 4. the importance of openness to healing and the place of the dream in this process; 5. social idealism; and 6. focus on process in relationships, familial and social."

Those of you who are also NF types may recognize yourselves in these six characteristics. I certainly do. But it's the "mystical harmony" one that leaps out at me. There is a craving in me to find the place where every voice fits, the musical line that works in the lovesong or the lifesong. I want others to find a place where their voice fits; I want to hear how it works with my voice. I want to experience the exquisite beauty of voices in harmony, the unusual note that somehow brings either movement to the song or resolves it in a creative way or ends it in a chord of meaning. I want all this both physically and metaphorically.

Last night, listening to our voices blend, Lynn on tenor, me on melody, Neal on baritone, Debbie and Richard an octave apart on the same line, I felt----well, I can't even describe it. The sound resonated in me so powerfully that I felt transported into another realm. The words of the song are meaningful to me as well, describing an experience of remembering an old love now gone, and singing it with good friends increased its power to goosebump level. It became not just a great song and sound but a true spiritual experience.

I'd suggest to anyone curious about spiritual pathways and interested in Jungian typologies that they find Peter's book at the library or through a local or national book store or the UUA bookstore. It's published by Davies-Black Publishing in Palo Alto, CA. It's a wonderful guide for understanding why different people are attracted to different spiritual and religious paths. And that in itself is a mechanism for finding harmony!

Proposal 2009 redux

As I've asked in ever-widening circles for feedback about my idea to offer a gift to our local BGLT community, I've gotten a great deal of support and positive input about it. I've asked for the thoughts of my colleagues on the UUMA chat, on our district ministers' chat, from BGLT and straight friends and congregants, and from friends Harry Knox at the Human Rights Campaign and Keith Kron of the UUA's office of bglt concerns. I asked you, my readers, for your thoughts as well.

There's been some very good advice as well as a few caveats and I am encouraged enough that I plan to ask my committee on ministry and the board of trustees this week to consider it and give their blessing. Assuming I get that blessing, I will talk with the congregation about it later this month and, assuming their blessing as well, I will announce the gift via the local newspapers in February, appropriately. I won't do it unless I have the support of my congregation, but I am fairly certain they will give it.

The gift to the BGLT community is this, in case you've just tuned in: to counteract the oppressive passage of Proposition 8 in California during the Nov. election, we will offer Proposal 2009, the use of our sanctuary and/or my services as officiant to same sex couples who wish to have a wedding ceremony (religious or spiritual) during the year 2009. Couples will be asked to register as domestic partners in advance, to make sure they have legal standing as a couple, unless there are extenuating circumstances, like military service. There will be no charge for the use of the sanctuary or my services; donations are welcome but not necessary.

In writing an op ed piece for the papers, I will focus on the theological and social justice bases of Unitarian Universalism---the inherent worth and dignity of every person and our belief that a democratic society offers equal rights to every person. Ceremonies can be public or private at the preference of the couple. The purpose of this gift is to counteract negative actions toward the BGLT community, to offer a tangible gift to folks whose relationships have not been honored in the traditional way, and to engender good will toward Unitarian Universalism.

That said, I know that there are some dangers in taking such a stand. Though Whidbey Island tends to be pretty liberal, at least on the South end, there may be some angry responses. We may get some threats. Some people may take advantage of the "freebie" without giving adequate thought to the significance of marriage. There are no guarantees that anyone will even want to receive this gift.

But I feel compelled to DO something, not just bemoan the uneven justice in American treatment of BGLT couples. This seems like something my congregation and I can do for them.

Whom Some Call God: a sermon

WHOM SOME CALL GOD
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Jan. 4, 2009

"Whom some call God"…..I'm not sure where I first heard this phrase, but it has stuck with me and I use it with some frequency.

It's the wording I use when I'm beginning a public prayer with Unitarian Universalists, generally. I wouldn't use it in an ecumenical or all-Christian gathering, probably, as the assumption there is that everyone is on the same page with God and folks would spend the rest of my prayer-time trying to figure out what I meant. It's more appropriate in an interfaith setting where some are pagan, some Buddhist, some Muslim, where not all use the word God.

In an ecumenical setting, I'd probably say something like "Spirit of Life and Love, God in our midst", which would be a bow to my understanding of God without jarring that of traditional theists in the room.

When Amy and Matt Cyprian chose a topic for the traditional "auction" sermon they purchased last February, we had a long conversation one day about all the ideas they had about the sermon.

During that conversation, I made a list of the possible directions this sermon might go. Here are just a few of those ideas: Who or what is God? How do we deal with religion that seems promoted by what we might call false prophets? How do we form an understanding of God or a relationship with God when we have not had a traditional religious upbringing? When the public face of religion seems evil in some ways, how do we reconcile wanting to be part of a religious community?

What are humanism and deism and how are they part of our religious faith today? And what the heck has happened to the revolution that the Baby Boomers started in the 60's?

You can see that there were a lot of possible topics raised that day. We knew that it would be impossible to address them all, but as I thought about it and considered what the underlying issue might be, the issue that touches the lives of many of us here today, I saw a theme emerge and as current events and issues interacted with that theme in my mind, I decided to address an issue that often concerns me deeply and causes me middle-of-the-night wakefulness. It may do the same to you.

This theme is implied in several of the topics raised by my conversation with Amy and Matt: God (and I use that word in its broadest sense to include all the various ways of viewing the concept of God) and religion have gotten a bad name; can we help to redeem those ideas and clarify them and free them from the evil connotations that they have absorbed? In other words, can we save God and religion from going to Hell in a handbasket? And we UUs don't even believe in Hell!

This fall, our youth did a survey here at UUCWI, asking for our ideas about God. Most of the responses fell in a few major areas. Folks could check more than one idea of God, so the totals do not reflect anything but general priorities.

Here are the major areas:
32 responses indicated that many folks sense that there is a spark of divinity in each person. 27 indicated that they think we can use Science and Reason to understand our Universe. 25 felt that there are probably as many ideas about God as there are people. 23 find God in Nature. 19 see Creation as ongoing and that humans are co-creators in the Universe. And 16 see God and the Universe as the same, with God being in everything and everyone.

Other less-chosen responses pointed out that there is no way we can know for sure whether there is "a God" or not. Others found God in relationships, in one's conscience, in Spirit form that is everywhere and always creating. Some felt a personal relationship with a God who listened to prayer. Some felt God had created the universe and left it to run itself, the theology called Deism.

Some saw motherly qualities in God; some doubted an all-powerful God because of the great suffering and evil which exists; some acknowledged Jesus as a pathway to God. Some felt that there is no such thing as God and found the word God meaningless. Interestingly, nobody indicated that God might be the source of our moral principles and that without God there would be no morality.

We can see from the responses to the survey that there are countless ways to view the idea of God or Divinity or Higher Power or Sacred Reality, as well as many names. Some of our ways of viewing that Higher Power are simple and trusting; others are complicated and highly intellectual. Some ways are anthropomorphic, that is, human-like, personal, motherly, fatherly. Some are relational, some ethics-based, some creativity-based. And some are angry.

We are no different from most Unitarian Universalist congregations in our diversity of opinion and thought about Who or What God might be. Our youth were interested in what you thought about this theological concept; they are sorting out their own beliefs and, in so doing, they look at what their elders and their peers think about big topics.

Their interest in this idea is certainly reflective of what is going on in the larger world outside these walls, where God is often presented as moralistic, legalistic, punishing and a Big Daddy who must be adored and praised and kowtowed to, in order to avoid punishment.

Yet Unitarian Universalism has always questioned and redefined the traditional theologies of God and human nature. We are in good standing in the world as reliable heretics! Many of us never use the word God, yet we acknowledge the idea of a power beyond human power, knowable through human power yet not completely understandable; expressed through science and the arts, visible in the creative force of the universe. And each of us has our own thoughts and understandings of that power.

Let's spend a few moments in silence, each of us thinking about what, for us as individuals, is the power beyond human power. (chime, 1 min)

I do a lot of thinking about "God"---what that concept means to me personally, how I am in relationship with "God", how I express my relationship with "God", how I nurture that relationship. And yet you will rarely hear me use the word----in fact I have already used it in this sermon more than I will typically use it in a month! I just don't use the word much.

Why is that? Because the word is so loaded that whoever hears me use it may automatically jump in their thinking to some conclusion about what I believe about the power beyond human power. A devout Christian, or even Jew or Muslim may assume that I am talking about that Big Daddy in the sky who judges and punishes human beings for their sins and assume that I agree with them on a lot of other things. A committed atheist may write me off as "a true believer" and discount anything else I say.

You may have had this experience: when people ask me what Unitarian Universalism is, I never know quite how to phrase my answer. I rarely want to hit anyone over the head with an answer like "well, we are a long-standing radical and heretical religion whose members may also be Christian or Jew or pagan or Muslim or agnostic or atheist or Buddhist".

I usually try something easier to swallow, like "well, we've been around for centuries, we developed out of liberal Christianity, and we welcome all who agree with our principles of how we treat each other and the planet." But no matter how I answer, some folks will always look at me blankly and, then, with a flash of hope, say "well, we all believe in the same God, don't we?"

Well, no, we don't. And that's the way it should be. Each of us has our own unique understanding of the power beyond human power, though many of us share some of the same ideas. Our understandings are as diverse as we are, as diverse as the many names of God, as diverse as the many ways we experience our relationship with the sacred.

So how do we explain our understandings to others? or is it even possible? Remember this old poem by John Godfrey Saxe?

The Blind Man and the Elephant
It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant~(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation~Might satisfy his mind.

The First approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side, ~ At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant ~ Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, "Ho! what have we here?
So very round and smooth and sharp? ~ To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant ~ Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands, ~ Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant ~ Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like ~ Is mighty plain," quoth he;
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant ~ Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most; ~ Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant ~ Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail ~ That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant ~ Is very like a rope!

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion ~ Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right ~ And all were in the wrong!

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

Each of the Blind Men of Indostan experienced the elephant in his own unique way, relating what he experienced to something else he had experienced earlier in life, whether that was a wall, a spear, a fan, a rope. And each was right, in what he likened the elephant to, but there was no way to reconcile together a whole portrait of the elephant because each experience was so different.

Let's pause again for a time of silence, taking this opportunity to reflect upon the differences and similarities between our own view of the Divine and that of others. (chime, 1 min.)

In our world today, we see the devastating effects of arguments about the nature of the power beyond human power, whom some call God. The so-called holy wars of the past and present, when infidels were tortured and killed during the Crusades of the Middle Ages, when witches were burned at the stake for being nothing more than talented or outspoken, when God was purported to advocate destruction of entire peoples, when the Bible has become a blueprint for oppression of certain groups, when, instead of the compassion advocated by true prophets, punishment and exclusion have become the backbone of traditional religion.

If this God were a human, he'd be hellbound, by all reasonable standards.

Recently, in liberal circles, there has been a great deal of conversation about how this country needs to move forward, to correct the oppressive policies of the past and to bring a sense of hope and national unity into American lives and onto the world scene once again.

Much of this conversation has been political in nature and I don't want to go there, as I am generally uneasy about politics from the pulpit. I am more interested in the deeper human issues that are reflected in political discourse and the decisions made by politicians.

As President-elect Barack Obama has begun to select his cabinet and plan for his inauguration, his supporters have had mixed feelings about some of his selections. This is pretty normal, for we all have our likes and dislikes and our opinions about who can do the job, what choices ought to be made, that sort of thing. After all, we the voters elected this guy over the other one and we figure we have a right to our opinions! And we do, of course.

It's harder for us to see the bigger picture sometimes. This country has become so polarized around social issues like abortion and marriage equality that the lenses we see our leaders through are tinged with a not-so-rosy coloring. We are afraid to trust them. And with good reason, sometimes.

One choice that has upset a great many people was the decision to have both an invocation and a benediction at the inauguration. The inauguration on Jan. 20 is not a religious ceremony; therefore it seems inappropriate to many that there should be religious elements in the occasion. Tradition has dictated that the President-elect may make that choice and Barack Obama has chosen to include those elements.

To offer the invocation, the opening words of the ceremony, he asked Pastor Rick Warren to participate. To offer the benediction, the closing words of the ceremony, he asked the Rev. Dr. Joseph Lowery to participate.

Politically, it's pretty clear that the choice of Pastor Warren, who is seen as an opponent of many liberal causes, is a nod to evangelical youth whose idealistic passion for the causes of poverty and environment helped to elect Obama. And the choice of Rev. Lowery, a proponent and supporter of civil rights for all, including same sex marriage, is intended to counterbalance the choice of Pastor Warren and to acknowledge the power of the liberal folks who are passionate supporters of civil rights for all.

This has been a painful moment for many people, particularly passionate supporters, like myself, of equal rights for sexual minorities.. And after I got over the shock of the political choice my hero Mr. Obama had made, I went back in my mind to what I most liked about this man in the first place---that he saw that our country was crumbling under the stresses of its polarization and felt that he could help heal some of those wounds.

Not unlike the United States in the days of slavery, our country had taken sides over new social issues of oppression and was teetering on the brink of a metaphorical civil war fueled by religious differences.

We could not continue the same path as we had in the past, fighting each other over pro-life and pro-choice policies, over hetero and homosexual rights and traditions, just to name two of the most divisive issues.

The message of this past election was that we as a nation need change, that we need to find ways to come together, to talk to each other, to consider where we are in harmony and not let our differences divide us again.

This is something we Unitarian Universalists have been learning to do in our congregations ever since the merger of the humanistic Unitarians with the theistic Universalists almost fifty years ago. We have learned to walk together, even with our differences in theology and in our views of the power beyond human power. We have learned to love each other despite our disagreements on certain issues, for we can see beyond those issues to the Beloved Community we hope to create.

As our country goes forward under the leadership of President Obama and his co-leaders, our experience as a diverse congregation can help us trust the process of bridge-building between liberal and conservative, between those who fear equal rights and those who believe in equal rights, between secular and religious, between orthodox and heretic. As one of our spiritual ancestors, Francis David, wrote in the 16th century, "we need not think alike to love alike".

Let's pause for a moment of silence, as we consider what our part might be in rebuilding our nation, our home, our community. (chime, 1 min)

To return to the question I asked early in these remarks: "can we save God and religion from going to Hell?" As Unitarian Universalists, we believe that there is no such thing as an afterlife in Hell. We tend to believe that we create our own Hell here on earth by our actions. We've seen ourselves and our nation standing on the brink of that Hell for a long time now but we believe it's possible, by our love, to redeem and reconcile those who are in danger.

We believe it will take changes on our part and that it may be a long process. We know, from our own human experience, that we cannot change other people; we can only change ourselves, which means that others must change in order to stay in relationship with us, whether that's as family members, as friends, as coworkers, as leaders.

And change is a long process, one which asks of us our best efforts, our greatest courage, our deepest love.

Let's pause for a time of meditation 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 changes in ourselves encourage changes in others. May we strive to build bridges between ourselves and those who do not understand us, those we do not understand. And may we always recall that our charge as human beings is to love one another as best we can. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Obama's Grandma Toot's Memorial Service

President-elect Barack Obama and his family held the memorial for his grandmother, Madelyn Payne Dunham, in the First Unitarian Church of Honolulu. Their minister, the Rev. Mike Young, wrote this for the newsletter of the Pacific Central District, of which the Honolulu church is a member. I thought you might be interested.

Many years ago Madelyn Dunham brought a small boy to the First Unitarian
Church for Sunday School. On December 23rd, he came back to celebrate her
memorial service. She had died two days before he was elected President of
the United States.

This time he came with his family, his sister's family and a few close
friends; and a huge contingent of Secret Service Agents, bomb sniffing dogs,
and snipers. The whole property was locked down. Every nook and cranny of
the church was searched. The event was successfully kept a secret for two
weeks ahead of time to protect the privacy of the family.

The service was a simple one, with music by Dion Hangtree. Barack and his
sister, Maya, spoke warmly remembering their grandmother, "Toot," (The
Hawaiian word for grandmother is Tutu.) She had been a local bank executive.
The president mentioned that she was the sort of bright, strong woman who,
if she had been born 20 years later, would have been president of the bank.
Her ashes were later scattered in the ocean off Lanai Point, South Oahu.
This is from the opening I wrote for the service:

Madelyn Dunham chose this land of gentle and violent beauty for her final
resting place. We stand now in the leeward shadow of the majestic Ko'olaus,
in the distance the rich and fecund Pacific. Along this coast, Punchbowl,
Diamond Head, Koko, Hanauma, craters of the ancient birthing of this land in
fire. Wrapped in moist trade winds scented and spiced with pikaki and
ginger. Mauka, the verdant mist washed valleys watering a fertile garden of
the human spirit. From the most ancient Kanaka Maoli to today's rich
diversity of peoples whose spirits are rooted in this land, here have you
come. Here will her ashes and the good wishes of those who loved her be
joined with the elements of this place. We come here today to seek the
blessings of this land upon her repose. Once, she admired this beauty as she
moved through its spaces. Now she will be a part of it; greeting the dawn
and the sunset, storm and calm, from within the very heart of that beauty.

I was honored to have shared this moment with the family of President-elect
Barack Obama.

Grief and Loss and Going Home

It's the day I go home from Reno and I'm ready. Not because I haven't had a good time, which I have, but because three days is about all I can handle of being away from my regular routines.

This has been a very nice visit, with just the right amount of time spent with the FS's inlaws and a goodly amount of time spent with the FS, the FDIL, and the FGKs. We have eaten gargantuan meals, I have spent (or charged) moderately, and we have talked and talked and talked. It's been good, intimate conversation, both with people I know well and people I'm just coming to know.

The aura of grief is heavy, though, for this is the first Christmas without the patriarch of the family, and it's a painful time for all. Grief is never an easy time and it's always complicated by family dynamics, which are more pronounced and more painful during a time like Christmas. It's been quite a life lesson for me to see how very difficult it is. It's been a long time since I was part of a grieving family that was struggling to stay connected while trying to be honest and yet sensitive to the many tendrils of grief that can ensnare one by surprise.

My dad died early too, at age 60, and though I have no way of gauging how bad it was for my mother, it was plenty bad for us kids, who had relied on Dad as the patriarch. We had to redefine our relationships with each other, with our mother, and with our own mates and children, now that we had lost this human pivot point in our lives. And it's terribly hard.

We did our best, but we were just as "insensitive" as human beings naturally are, as we try to acknowledge our own grief while being aware that others are also grieving and trying not to step on toes but doing it anyway, because we simply can't help it.

It's a time for huge doses of understanding and sympathy but it's often impossible for those within the family circle to supply them adequately when they are themselves so bereft. It's a very painful time for all who are part of the circle, whether blood relatives or more distantly related.

I have come to care for these new family members very much and they are in my prayers always, that their faith and love for each other will help them come through this tough time. I hope that gradually the pain will lessen and they can again experience joy in life, with memories that lighten the grief a bit and sweeten their time together.

And a couple of pix from yesterday's jam

Maxie Madness!

One last set of Maxie pix before I leave for Reno:

There must be a mouse down here somewhere!

Should I stay or should I go?

Max managed to overcome his distaste for the white stuff when he realized there might be buried treasure underneath it.

Christmas is different this year...

It's not so hectic, for one thing, as everything Christmassy in any way has been cancelled and I have had almost a week of pure rest, with the only thing in my mind being "will we have to cancel _____?" Though I was looking forward very much to our first Christmas in our new building, when we had to cancel last night's service because of the road conditions I was almost relieved to have it be a clean sweep.

I'm not much for prolonging my regrets, so once the decision had been made to cancel Christmas Eve's service, I moved on and found myself teetering on the edge of "after Christmas"---which is a place I didn't want to be quite yet.

I hadn't planned to go anywhere for the holidays because of the Christmas Eve service, though I'll leave for Reno and the FS, FDIL, and FGKs on Saturday. So what to do to stay in Christmas mode, even though none of the traditional celebrations were occuring because of weather. A person who lives alone has to figure out her own way of being celebratory in private.

Luckily, a church family who lives nearby had invited me to share supper after the (now cancelled) Christmas Eve service. I had thought I couldn't go because Richard and Debbie and I needed to use the afternoon to record, but then Richard couldn't make it because of the ice on his road, so I did get to join them, along with some other neighbors. We had a marvelous evening together and when I got home, I turned on the PBS broadcast of Luther College's choirs singing carols. Boy, those Lutherans really know how to sing! It was beautiful and I went to bed with a new song or two in my head.

This morning, the snow is steadily melting away, unable to withstand a chinook wind out of the west, gentle rain and temps in the mid 30's. Max is outside, rejoicing in his greater freedom, Loosy is on my lap as I type, and Lily is sacked out in the big chair.

And I'm remembering Christmases past: the FS being dedicated at Jefferson Unitarian Church by the Rev. Leon Hopper on Dec. 24, 1972, squalling loudly as his dad and I jiggled him in our arms to quiet him (to no avail) long enough to receive the traditional rosebud and certificate; the FS finally walking by the next Christmas, having learned to talk in full sentences already (do you see a pattern emerging here? you'd be right); Christmas mornings with all the Colorado relatives--grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins; the first Christmas after our separation and how hard it was to celebrate separately--we gave up and had Christmas morning together; learning about the Holiday Project and thereafter spending Christmas morning singing carols at hospitals, nursing homes, and prisons.

It used to be that I felt very ambivalent about Christmas. I needed lots of presents to be happy and they needed to be the right sort of present; I gave a lot of expensive presents and needed the recipients to give the right kind of appreciation and gratitude in return. I didn't experience much joy or peace of mind. I loved and hated Christmas at the same time. I hoped for so much and was always a little bit disappointed.

It's different now. I'm not sure when it changed, maybe the year not that long ago when I couldn't be with family members and would be alone the whole long 48 hours of that officially sacred time. I'd never been all alone on Christmas before. I was scared, so I decided to make it a deliberate spiritual retreat, spending the time with music and carefully selected reading and, of course, my favorite holiday foods.

I went to Christmas Eve at a nearby UU church and then came home, opened one present, went to bed, and the next day spent the whole day in solitude, reading a little bit, and, for dinner, a small prime rib roast, baked potato, and mince pie. It was lovely, peaceful, joyful even though I was all alone for the first time at Christmas.

Since that time, my expectations have diminished and my joy has increased. I have learned to be grateful for everything that happens, not to hang onto any hope that something wonderful will happen but to view as wonderful the things that do happen and reframe negatives into something more uplifting. Even sorrow has its hidden meaning, its invisible-as-yet joy.

Right now, I need to get busy making preparations for my 4 p.m. onslaught of dinner guests, musicians coming to share a meal and make a joyful noise. Even though it's Christmas Day for many, it feels right to let Christmas be past and celebrate being together as friends. We'll light the Hanukkah candles, toast the Winter Solstice, and look ahead to a New Year of friendship.

Hallelujah!

Imagine my delight to find Leonard Cohen's hymn to humility and honor this morning at James Ford's MonkeyMind.

I'm very much in a Hallelujah frame of mind today, having woken in the night to hear rain falling and a soft breeze blowing across the bamboo wood chime outside my window. I rolled over and went back to sleep knowing that I would almost certainly be able to get my car dug out and go to the grocery store today.

When I went out to get the paper, I scuffed through soggy, rapidly melting snow, assessed the condition of the main road (sanded and smooth), and rejoiced to think that I would not be stuck another day.

I've been getting rides from musician friend Richard in his 4 wheel drive pickup, which is nice because R is one of these shy guys who doesn't open up in crowds but can carry on a perfectly fine conversation in a small group. I'm coming to appreciate very much his quiet manner as we navigate the snowy island roads. He's a sweetie who plays innumerable instruments AND builds them as well.

But this morning I was able to get my car shoveled out, pointed down the driveway, and out onto the main road into town, where I beat the crowds at the grocery store and stocked up for tomorrow's WinterJam, here at my house, where a bunch of us who often sing together will feast on turkey and the trimmings, pie, and sing our hearts out in a non-Christmassy way, since several are Jewish or Jehovah's Witness.

There's no Christmas Eve service tonight here for us, since our parking lot will still be a mess by tonight and drivers getting stuck would tear it up pretty badly. We're not exactly used to having Christmas Eve services in our own space, but I will miss the quiet magic of the candles and the carols, which we have almost completely let go of this season because of the weather. Next year, we hope to have a better experience.

This afternoon, Richard and Debbie and I will get together again and continue the recording session we began yesterday. We nailed about half of our songs and will finish today. It feels like a weird thing to be doing on Christmas Eve afternoon, but nothing about this Christmas has gone according to tradition.

Hallelujah anyhow!

Melissa Etheridge on Pastor Rick Warren

You might be surprised to read what Melissa Etheridge, one of my favorite singers, has to say about this controversial man and Mr. Obama's choice to give the invocation at the inauguration. Here's the link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/melissa-etheridge/the-choice-is-ours-now_b_152947.html

One more shot of Max and one of the snow

Here's what we're dealing with this morning.

Here's Max's opinion.

A Maxie Monday

For Tim, Miss Kitty, Pixie and all those other Maxiefans (the captions are at the bottom of the photos):

You want me to what? Max

Sackout Max

Maxie the Magnificent

Being in the right place at the right time

Last Tuesday I went up to Coupeville for my regular volunteer chaplaincy stint, a pleasant duty that usually takes no longer than an hour or so, as the hospital is small and often isn't very busy. And last Tuesday seemed to be one of those days---until I walked into a room where an old woman lay comatose and two middle-aged daughters sat by her bed.

They needed to talk. Their mother had had her health concerns but until this sudden stroke, she'd always recovered and been back on her feet. This time was different, they said, and they were trying to be hopeful but it looked like things would never be the same. Would they have to quit jobs and move closer, to take care of her? Would their lives ever be the same? Would she die suddenly and everything would change in a different, no less sorrowful, way? She had always been there for them, she was only in her 70s, what would they do without her guiding hand?

We talked for over an hour, the two sisters trying to come to terms with this impending loss, trying to decide what they should do, trying to be positive though nothing felt good at that point. I offered to pray with them and we all went back to their mother's room, where she lay unconscious, and we prayed together for strength to cope with the losses which loomed, that this beloved mother's life would now continue in whatever way was best for her, even if that meant that she did not recover consciousness.

When I left, I was struck by how casually sometimes I take this chaplaincy, because it is often just a matter of chatting up bored patients. It's often not "real" ministry, because it's hard to count swapping jokes about TV "ministry". But ever so often, something makes me realize that every moment spent with people who are in pain is real ministry, no matter what the topic.

This morning, our board president came up to my house with his 4 wheel drive and we went together up to the church. Going up to unlock the front door, I found a note to me, pinned down by a board, a bit damp from having been out in the weather for a day.

It said, in essence: "Rev. Kit, you visited us in Whidbey General Hospital last week and spoke with my sister and I and you prayed with my mom. Can we talk to you again? We have no prayer or spiritual support. Can you help? Here are our phone numbers."

If we hadn't gone up to the church today, chances are I wouldn't have found this note at all, as it was in danger of being obliterated by the weather. Talk about being in the right place at the right time.

Excuse me while I make a phone call.

Well, NOAA has clinched the decision---no church tomorrow.

I will try to struggle over there by 10 a.m., to greet anyone who didn't get the message that we are closed, but a PowerPoint from NOAA has caused us (me and the church prez) to pre-emptively cancel. It just sounds awful, at least by Western Washington standards.

Here's the NOAA link: http://www.wrh.noaa.gov/sew/Dec20-21WinterStorm/player.html

Now I know what it feels like

to be one of the school authorities who has to decide whether to cancel school and give kids a snow day. When I was an educator in Jeffco Schools in Colorado, I loved snow days and reviled any superintendent who was chary with them. I had a fairly long drive to school, up I-70 to Ward Road and then up and down a few hills to get to Oberon Middle School, and the freeway was often a scary place to be. I did not want to be out on the roads if the snow was bad and it can get very bad indeed out there on the west edge of Denver. The kids were squirrely as all get out too, and that made lunch duty more onerous than usual.

Anyhow, today we have had numerous conversations about what to do about our Sunday service. The kids' pageant has been scheduled for this Sunday, with their major rehearsal tomorrow morning. Problem: the RE staff and their children can't get out of their houses because of steep driveways and icy terrain. Some of the families live in equally difficult places.

After many phone calls and emails, we have finally decided to cancel the pageant and its rehearsal. We are expecting another big storm to come in tomorrow afternoon and inundate us again by Sunday morning, so it seems very wise to cancel now and face the possible embarrassment of clear skies and warm temps on Sunday. As a back up plan, we will have a brief service and carol singing for anyone who shows up at church.

It is so hard to know what to do sometimes! But I think we've done the best we can. We'll send out an email Sunday morning (we've already notified the participants of the cancelation) to let folks know whether we will have a service. Luckily virtually everyone here uses email. If I can get over there and am not stuck at home, I'll welcome anyone who arrives expecting to find church in session. (I feel like the principal of the middle school who has to go to school even on a snow day!)

But it seems to me that, though we have an obligation to keep folks safe, we also have an obligation to be available as much as possible. If that means that I am the only person there when a stranger comes looking for a spiritual experience, so be it. "Where two or three are gathered together..." and all that.

I did get out and about this afternoon. Richard had transported me to the jam last night and broken a trail down the driveway, so it wasn't too bad. I got the last snowshovel at ACE and a new mailbox, as mine has lost the back panel and is open to the elements. When the snow melts a bit more, I'll replace it.

We've had to cancel tonight's Young Adult activity as well as our Trilogy rehearsal. Richard called a little while ago to say that his road was blocked by an accident, so he can't get out yet and has to cancel today's rehearsal. We have a Bayview Sound rehearsal tomorrow---we think. Who knows? This is such weird weather for Whidbey Island!

I understand why my BGLT friends are hurt but...

from a public speaker's point of view, the person who gives the benediction has the last word and is far more likely to be remembered than the person who gives the invocation. I know it has been a shock and a disappointment to learn that Rick Warren will give the invocation at Obama's inauguration.

Anger and calling for a reversal are very normal responses to a loss. So is sadness. But at some point it is important to look at the fact that the staunch pro-gay civil rights leader Joseph Lowery will have the last word.

I understand the outcry from the BGLT community and I support their right to holler loudly. I hope they will come to terms with their grief and, instead of continuing to feel betrayed, recognize that Lowery is in the better position. Warren is only a warm-up act, not the main event.

I see the inauguration as analogous to a worship service, in a way. The opening words are benign, mild, encouraging people to listen. There are other ceremonies involved but the climactic event is the inaugural address (or sermon) and the benediction wraps it up and sends people out fired up to go out and do something positive.

You can call it a political maneuver, and it doubtless is a payback for the support of those evangelicals who just couldn't stomach McCain/Palin. Obama has called it a bridge, an outstretched arm to those with whom he differs. That makes good sense. I'll bet Abraham Lincoln is chuckling right now: "To get rid of your enemies, make them friends" he said long ago.

I'm sorry for the pain it is causing people I love. I hope they will find hope on the other side of the pain.

Five inches and counting

When I went out to get the newspaper this morning about 5:30, it hadn't yet arrived and the mailbox was so frozen I could hardly open it to put my Netflix envelopes in and raise the flag. Max, who normally is undaunted by weather, stayed on the deck rather than accompany me down the driveway and clamored to come back in once I returned to the house. (Later he got his nerve up and went back out again and when I went down a second time to see if the paper was here, I could see his tracks bounding across the landscape.)

Dang! We have got to get in a rehearsal for our Trilogy performance in a few weeks. We had planned to get together today at 1 p.m., but I'm not sure we'll be able to do that. Richard wants to record us so that we have CDs to give people for Christmas and we had scheduled it for this afternoon. He does have 4-wheel drive but for him to come over and pick me up means lots of miles out of his way. I'm not sure what we'll do.

Tomorrow night is---I hope---our first Young Adult activity, a meal and get-together at the church, with child care. I hope the weather allows it. I hope the weather allows the pageant rehearsal Saturday morning and the BVS rehearsal Saturday afternoon. I hope it allows church on Sunday! Surely it will be better by Christmas Eve. By Dec. 27, when I fly to Reno? Please?

It's been a quiet day here...

as the snow continues to come down. It let up this morning and actually warmed up a bit, so that I did get out to the grocery store and post office. Amazingly, I walked into the post office in Freeland and NOBODY was waiting in line. In fact, nobody else but post office ladies was even there. I mailed off my packages to friends and family in a few minutes and was back home right away.

The weather has made every church activity this week somewhat unpredictable. Last Sunday we woke up to snow on the ground and very slippery roads; our RE department couldn't get out of their driveways, so RE was canceled. We considered canceling church but it turned out not to be necessary. Our music service was able to go on as scheduled, with a few substitute choir members (me included) and a fair turnout, considering the roads.

But it's been icy cold and snowy ever since. Today we canceled a Bayview Sound rehearsal because, though we might have been able to get there, we weren't sure we could get home again.
Who knows if we'll be able to rehearse tomorrow?

It's funny---PNW snow is different from any other snow I've experienced. It's heavy and wet and packs into sheets of ice rapidly when driven on. Colorado snow was a snap compared to this. I have gotten very wary of driving in PNW snow. I'd rather stay inside with cabin fever than go out and take my chances on the ice.

But today was productive---I've about got the O/S for Christmas Eve put together and it's a whole week away! For our RE pageant this Sunday (for which we will be lucky to get a practice in), I have very little to do and it's already written out. Of course, the weather forecast for Sunday is more snow, so we may not even have a pageant!

I'm looking ahead to my Dec. 27 flight to Reno to visit the FS and his family, wondering if the weather will cooperate. We'll see! Usually it wouldn't be a question in my mind, but this spate of cold and snow has me wondering.

An idea I'm incubating...

has to do with showing active support and ministry for those same sex couples who were planning to go to California to be married---until the Grinch stole the marriage licenses and burned them.

What if our congregation did something really kind of drastic and announced to the community that, in defiance of Prop 8 in CA, we are enacting Proposition 2009 and during the year 2009, we at UUCWI will donate the use of our sanctuary and the services of our minister (me) to celebrate the life commitment and marriage of same sex couples in our community.

As I'm considering how to carry this idea out (after running it by the board and congregation), I think I could write an editorial for the local paper announcing our opposition to marriage INequality and our invitation to same sex couples who live in our county to celebrate their marriages (because they are married in their hearts, whether the county clerk agrees or not) in our sanctuary, with the blessing of our congregation and the use of my services as officiant.

I don't know if we'd get any takers, but the lesbian couple I ran the idea by this morning liked it a lot. One young couple's plan to marry next August is what got me taking this brainstorm seriously. I think I'd need to limit it to Island county residents, to keep it manageable. But we have a very large, strong BGLT community on the south end of the island and I would like us to reach out to them.

We are already a Welcoming Congregation and have always been supportive of civil rights for sexual minorities, but I'd like to see us do something really concrete, both as a statement and as a service.

Pete Seeger is my hero...

and on May 1, which is two days before his 90th birthday, we are having a "Pete Seeger 90th Birthday Bash" concert, as a benefit fundraiser for a local nonprofit, Hearts and Hammers, which repairs homes for the elderly and needy on the island. My congregation will also get some of the proceeds.

Last night we held our fourth organizing meeting and had the help of Bob Dalton of H&H, who will spearhead our publicity efforts. We're talking about a setting where all the performers (there are about 20, we think) will be onstage together and, as our narrator describes the life and causes Pete has worked for, will group themselves at the mics to perform songs related to the relevant period of his life.

Our major order of business right now is putting together the artwork for the publicity, so we're all charged with rooting through our old folkie stuff and finding pictures, etc., that we can send to Bob, who will put together the publicity posters.

Second in priority is the set list. We figure we'll have about three hours worth of narration and song, with an intermission. We want to include old favorites so that the audience can sing along and we want a couple of all-ensemble numbers at the beginning and the end.

On the following Sunday, May 3, my music director and I are continuing the theme with a Pete Seeger worship (no, not worshiping Pete) theme, using his songs.

It's a lot of fun to work on this. Fortunately, the Vicodin knocked my back pain for a loop and today I am pain-free and have not had a pain pill since 4 p.m. yesterday. I hope it lasts. I'm ferrying over to Port Townsend this morning for our ministers' cluster meeting, so I'd better get on with it.

Following my own advice...

is often the hardest thing for me to do. What did I tell the congregation on Sunday? That when our spiritual reservoirs are drawn way down, we often get signals that we need to heed (hmmm, there's a useful pairing of words---tuck those away for future use as a title of something: "needing heeding"). One of those signals was "getting sick".

I'm not sick, exactly, but one of my classic signals (and I hate to get it because it is so hard to ignore) is muscle spasms in my back. I have one area that begins to warn me a day or so in advance---an upper back "tiredness", a feeling of having sat at the computer too long or hunched over something working. I have been fending off a real attack for days with ibuprofen, hot and cold packs, that sort of thing, but last night, after a day on the mainland shopping for catfood, litter, and those great chocolate covered caramels at Trader Joe's, I couldn't ignore it or put it off any longer and I succumbed to the heating pad and cyclobenzaprine.

This morning I still have it, only it's harder now to consciously relax and let the muscle go. The pain makes me clench up, which makes it worse. I may have to go to the doctor for a renewed prescription, but I hate to do that, knowing that it will subside on its own if I wait it out. The cyclo is over two years old and doesn't seem all that effective, though it did help me sleep.

The thing is, I have tons of stuff to do today and don't want to put any of them on hold. There are some that I can let go but we have a Pete Seeger concert meeting tonight here and that really does need to occur, if possible, as we only meet once a month. So I'm going to scan my to-do list and see what can wait, what I can skip entirely, and go back and lie down. I did take one Vicodin, in hopes that would deal with the pain, because ibuprofen and other NSAIDs just don't do it. But, of course, the big V has other effects which I don't like---sleepiness and trouble focusing.

Anyhow, I am going to take my own advice, look for the message in this trustworthy red flag, and let go of what I can. At least the cats didn't wake me up this morning----I think they may have learned that scratching at the door at 4:45 a.m. doesn't exactly endear them to Mama, what with all the shouted "NOs" and bangings and throwing things that it incurs.

So ta ta for now. Back later.

The Still Small Voice: a sermon

THE STILL SMALL VOICE
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Dec. 7, 2008

Every year about this time, I become much more deeply aware of my craving for spiritual experience. It's a time of year when my own reservoirs have often been drawn down by the desire to serve others, to rise to the occasion once again when another person needs my help, to find new meaning in my life so that I can share it with others.

This experience of needing to refill one's spiritual reservoirs is common to ministers and others in helping professions. It's also common to caretakers, to people in transition, moving from one stage of life to another, to people who are grieving, to anyone who needs new meaning in life.

We get the message in a variety of ways----some of us withdraw from others, some of us get sick, some of us go into therapy or spiritual direction, some take up a hobby, some may even become addicted to one thing or another.

When we find ourselves craving solitude or cringing when someone needs us to do something, when we find our behavior out of bounds for some reason, being more irritable, more tired, more overwhelmed, more needy, these are often signals that our spiritual reservoirs are low and we need to replenish them.

Recently someone mentioned to me her yearning for more spiritual connection and experience during worship. And I suspect many of us come to worship hoping to find a place where we are not only intellectually stimulated but also emotionally touched, where in the quiet times or in the music, we hope for a sense of something bigger than ourselves, a sense of connection to others, a moment we can carry away into our workaday week.

The need for spirituality in our lives is a common but tricky thing because it is such a personal experience. For one person, it might be an insight triggered by a poem or a speaker's words or the music; for another, it might be an emotional sense of gratitude for an act of kindness. For others, these might not be particularly significant at all.

But I have noticed over the years that we can become more attuned to the moments in our lives which offer spiritual experience, whether they come during worship or during an ordinary day. We often have to train ourselves to recognize them. We may even have to re-structure our lives to be more open to them. We may have to go looking for them. But we learn that we can't usually expect them to be administered by someone else, like a dose of medicine; we have to be open, within ourselves, to the experience.

Paula sent me a little vignette that I think fits here, recounted by the late French author Andre Gide. while he was in Africa years ago. He wrote:
"My party had been pushing ahead at a fast pace for a number of days and one morning when we were ready to set out, our native bearers, who carried the food and equipment, were found sitting about without any preparations made for starting the day.
Upon being questioned, they said quite simply, that they had been traveling so fast in these last days that they had gotten ahead of their souls and were going to stay quietly in camp for the day in order for their souls to catch up with them. So they came to a complete stop."

We human beings are constantly in a state of movement of some kind---in our life stages, as parents, in marriage or singleness, in job changes, just to name a few. It's important to recognize that the changes in our daily lives affect our spiritual lives, just as the African workers knew and addressed, when they needed to.

We are sometimes so busy and preoccupied with those changes, both big and little, that we are not able to be as mindful of or open to spiritual experience as we might be at a different time.

Just recognizing our hunger for spiritual experience is a positive step. Just realizing that something that gave us spiritual sustenance at one time is no longer so powerful---that's a huge insight in itself. It may not feel good but it's a sign that a person is ready to grow and is starting to look around for ways to nurture that growth.

It can be helpful to look back over our lives and recognize the times in our lives when we had an experience we might call a spiritual experience.

For some people, it's the birth of a child; for others, a deep love felt for another being. It can be a moment in the woods or on a mountain top or in deep snow or on a stormy beach. It's a time when we experience a sense of connection that may be new or familiar but gives us a chill of recognition---so this is part of what it means to be alive.

Let's take a moment together to reflect on those moments in our lives. I invite us to enter into a time of silence, to look back in our lives to a time that was particularly meaningful in a way that felt bigger than ordinary moments. It might have triggered goose bumps or a sense of recognition of something important. Let's be silent for a little while.

One of my earliest spiritual experiences was sitting on a cold, windy hilltop out in far eastern Oregon with friends from our Baptist Youth Fellowship, singing the old hymn "O Worship the King", as I watched the sun come up on a stormy early spring morning singing these words:

"O tell of his might, o sing of his grace,
whose robe is the light, whose canopy space;
his chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,
and dark is his path on the wings of the storm.

Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light,
it streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,
and sweetly distills in the dew and the rain."

I know that my experience may mystify some of you. I can't adequately explain this experience to anyone else, which is very typical for spiritual experience. And I recognize that music has long been a spiritual pathway for me, whereas it may not be so for others.

So I've been thinking this past week about how to help people notice the signal that they need to replenish their spiritual reservoirs and then to help them find a pathway to spiritual experience that is meaningful to them. I have learned that one thing that has helped me has been to have a regular spiritual practice. Like going to the gym every morning helps me stay fit for my physical life, a spiritual practice helps me stay in shape for my spiritual life.

Prayer is part of my spiritual practice, but mindfulness is an even more important part of it. When I pray that I will be a good minister, a good person, my prayer reminds me to be mindful to look for the meaning in my life, because it is there that I find my spiritual sustenance. Mindfulness means listening for the still small voice that comes when I am touched by the spirit, the inner wisdom that comes when I am open to it.

In our story for all ages today, I told about an ancient prophet who needed wisdom and guidance in a troubled situation. He prayed for the spirit he called God to advise him; he believed he would know what to do if he just listened.

And as if to test himself, when a great wind came and swept through the trees, damaging them and causing rockslides, he wondered if his answer was in the wind. But it didn't seem to be there. Nor was the answer in the earthquake which shook the mountain where he was standing, or in the fire which swept through the brush and rocks around him.

But he kept listening and after the fire, in this ancient Bible story, there came a still small voice. And in that still small voice he found his wisdom and guidance.

We often hope to find our spiritual experiences in big moments, in times of great drama and tension. And often we do find spiritual meaning in those moments. But even more can be found in the moments when we are still, when we take time to contemplate our lives, when we are alone, when we are able to be honest with ourselves, when we are open to hearing a still small voice.

Let's return to the silence for a few moments and let the quiet of this room seep into our minds and hearts. Even though there may be slight sounds coming from outside the room, let's enjoy the peace of this time and allow ourselves to listen, just listen.

We may each discover some personal way that spiritual meaning comes to us. I've mentioned that music is particularly helpful to me. One way that music manifests itself in my spiritual life is that I often wake up in the morning with a song in my mind and heart. I have learned to pay attention to that song because if it's there in the morning, I know it's a manifestation of my inner life and possibly a guidepost, a trail marker for where my spiritual life needs to go.

Because spiritual experiences are not, in my humble opinion, just nice things to have happen to us. They are trail markers, they are guideposts, they are telling us something.

One of the most powerful spiritual experiences of my life was the morning I woke up in Spokane during the big annual meeting of all UUs in the nation in 1995, singing to myself an old Sunday School song.

I know, those of you who were not raised in conservative Christian homes may not be attuned to my examples, but these old hymns are truly guideposts for me, not leading me back to an old way of thinking but leading me forward into using my old life as a resource.

The day before, I had publicly acknowledged to friends that I felt a strong call to ministry and intended to enter seminary as soon as I got back home. That night as I thought about what a life as a minister would require of me, remembering my Dad's life as a Baptist minister, I fell asleep and woke up the next morning singing this song:

I would be true, for there are those who trust me;
I would be pure, for there are those who care;
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer;
I would be brave, for there is much to dare;

I would be friend of all—the foe, the friendless;
I would be giving, and forget the gift;
I would be humble, for I know my weakness;
I would look up, and laugh, and love and lift.

For the first time I really realized that what I had been called to was not an easy life of public speaking and ego gratification because of my great preaching skill and wisdom. I don't know that I had ever considered what it might mean to go into the ministry. I knew my dad had died from a combination of physical disability and the great stress of ministry.

I knew that I was older than most ministerial candidates. I knew that women were just beginning to become a strong force in UU ministry. I knew that seminary would be expensive. And I knew that the responsibilities of ministry were much greater than the responsibilities I had had as a junior high school teacher and counselor. But the sense of direction inherent in the song gave me courage to take that scary yet compelling step.

In taking that step, which was bolstered by the messages in the song, I became a new person in many ways. I turned my eyes from my comfortable retired existence, where I was free to read all the murder mysteries I wanted, to four years of hard study reading dense theological and historical tomes; I moved from a life in which I had dated freely and often, to a life in which I had to be very careful about my social life; I watched my relationships change as I became more comfortable in my ministerial identity, for many of my friends were not comfortable with my changes.

Coming to terms with this new life wasn't easy but it has felt like the right thing to do. I have never been tempted to quit. I have never felt it was the wrong thing to do. I have never regretted the money I've repaid in student loans. I have never felt sorry for myself, even though there were some very tough times. Every moment I spend in ministry, even the ones that draw down my spiritual reservoirs, feels like a great gift.

Let's spend some more time in silence together and this time I invite us to think about the times we may have heard that still small voice of wisdom and guidance and what our response to it may have been.

Recognizing our need for spiritual sustenance, listening for the still small voice, and responding to its call----these are the elements of spiritual growth.

I mentioned earlier that someone had spoken to me about her desire for more spiritual experience during worship. She recognized that she needed to replenish her spiritual reservoirs and wasn't always finding it in worship. Her still small voice prompted her to tell me about her need and when we talked, she responded to our conversation with some ideas of her own, which will become part of our congregational life.

And it's interesting to note that when she wanted to talk with me, I felt a little uneasy, a little nervous that more might be asked of me than I had to offer. But as we talked, her still small voice spoke to my still small voice and said "we can do this!" and her ideas and my ideas came together to create something new.

My introduction of periods of silence during the sermon are a partial response to the urging of that still small voice, because silence works for many of us. We may not have much silent time to spend listening for a still small voice. Worship services may be that important chance to be still and listen, even though these periods of silence are very brief.

Let's enter into one more period of silence and I invite us to listen for that still small voice again and to hear what it may be calling us to do. How might we respond to the guiding voice within that offers a light on our path?

As we go our separate ways today, I hope we will return in our hearts to that place of stillness where we can listen for the still small voice of wisdom and guidance that lives inside of us. We may call it God, we may call it our inner self, we may call it human nature----it doesn't matter what the words are. But that still small voice represents our best selves, guiding us to goodness, not evil; guiding us toward life, not death; guiding us to growth, not stagnation; guiding us to health, not sickness.

We are in the season of the year called Advent, in the Christian world. Advent means beginnings. May we find in times of stillness the beginnings of new spiritual life. And in that mode, let's sing together the Advent hymn "People Look East" recognizing the importance of a new life beginning.

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 mindfulness of the spiritual meaning in every moment of our lives is a key to growing as spiritual beings. May we listen for the still small voice, may we heed its wisdom, and may we grow in spirit as we move forward in our lives. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Thinking more about spiritual experience

I finished the sermon this morning and, as always, I found that, though I had some specific ideas about what I wanted to say, the sermon had a mind of its own and pretty much wrote itself. I checked back over the brainstorming I'd done earlier and tucked away in the folder for Dec. 7 and saw that most of my ideas had made it into the text, but in a different way than I had expected.

I think this is a manifestation of the still small voice, that we can't always state our wisdom in the terms that we might want to use. Sometimes another source guides the words. I don't know what to call that---I don't believe that "everything happens for a reason"and therefore it's God writing the sermon. I do believe that we give meaning to what happens, we learn to look for the unexpected outcomes of what happens, to look beyond the event for its consequences on down the line.

Coming back to the actual topic of this post---I regularly discover that if I let go of my specific ideas and let the sermon write itself it turns out better than if I agonize over every word and sentence structure. I tend to write out of my heart, then go back and "deliver" what I've written orally and see if it is true to my experience and coherent from beginning to end. It takes me most of the week to do this. If I saved my sermon writing for Saturday morning, for example, it would not work for me. I need cogitation time---not just thinking time but percolating time, time for the ideas to coalesce and become something more than just words.

I'm happy with my method and I'm usually happy with my writing. It took me aback once to get a message from another blogger, who shall remain nameless, that my writing turned her stomach. It made me think about my style and the topics I choose for posts, which was useful, but her need to insult me stung and I quickly lost any respect for her as a voice, for I saw her do the same thing to others and realized that this was not a voice I needed to heed. I think that kind of experience is useful, for it causes us to take stock, to develop our own voice, and to think hard about the feedback we get.

I'm looking forward to delivering this sermon tomorrow. I'm including several periods of silence, once again, for I am starting to believe that we need more silence in worship, that we need not fill every space with words, that in the interstices there is opportunity for growth. I'll post it tomorrow afternoon. See you then.

My Wonderful Committee on Ministry...

met today and tussled with a few issues that COMs always have to tussle with----what is the minister's job and what is the job of volunteers, for example. And how do we encourage more programming in the congregation without taking it on ourselves? And should "it" be a goal for the minister or for others?

I love these folks---each of them has a definite and different perspective on my role as minister and I am educated and aided by each of them. Today one had brought some fruit crisp and ice cream, totally unexpectedly, and we conducted our business while enjoying this treat.

It was my responsibility to set forth the goals I have for this church year. We are a little late getting to that because of a variety of things---notably opening the new building and dealing with those issues---but they were appreciative of the goals I have set for myself this year:
1. to initiate programming to serve veterans in the community and to serve our Young Adults in the congregation
2. to re-connect with the issues of bi/gay/lesbian/trans civil rights, as I have felt very out of the loop since I left the board of the Religious Coalition for Equality.
3. to seek regular spiritual direction, using the opportunities offered by the Whidbey Institute's First Mondays.

I had intended to set the goal of going through the settlement process with this congregation, moving from being a contracted minister to being a settled minister. I've decided to put that on hold during this first year in the new building; it just seems like it would be too much to ask at this point and I don't feel the same kind of urgency I did awhile back.

It's been a beautiful, though chilly, day here today and I'm sitting at the computer looking out the window at the sunset sky---all rose and blue and gold---and feeling very lucky to be here now.

Tonight I'll go over to Langley to the Thursday night jam. I'm looking forward to singing with folks again, as we reconvene after the holiday. And Richard, my favorite fellow jammer, is recovered from the creeping crud he's had for three weeks, so he'll be there again and I love singing with him.

Happy Days!

Since everyone else is doing it....

I guess this is sort of like a Bucket List for people who are thinking about creating a Bucket List. The bold print items are the things I've done so far.

Started my own blog
Slept under the stars
Played in a band
Visited Hawaii
Watched a meteor shower
Given more than I can afford to charity
Been to Disneyland/world
Climbed a mountain
Held a praying mantis
Sung a solo
Bungee jumped
Visited Paris
Watched lightning at sea
Taught myself an art from scratch
Adopted a child
Had food poisoning
Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
Grown my own vegetables
Seen the Mona Lisa in France
Slept on an overnight train
Had a pillow fight
Hitchhiked
Taken a sick day when not ill
Built a snow fort
Held a lamb
Gone skinny dipping
Run a marathon
Ridden in a gondola in Venice
Seen a total eclipse
Watched a sunrise or sunset
Hit a home run
Been on a cruise
Seen Niagara Falls in person
Visited the birthplace of my ancestors
Seen an Amish community
Taught myself a new language
Had enough money to be truly satisfied
Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
Gone rock climbing
Seen Michelangelo's David
Sung karaoke
Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
Visited Africa
Walked on a beach by moonlight
Been transported in an ambulance
Had my portrait painted
Gone deep sea fishing
Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
Kissed in the rain
Played in the mud
Gone to a drive-in theater
Been in a movie
Visited the Great Wall of China
Started a business
Taken a martial arts class
Visited Russia
Served at a soup kitchen
Sold Camp Fire mints
Gone whale watching
Gotten flowers for no reason
Donated blood, platelets or plasma
Gone sky diving
Visited a Nazi concentration camp
Bounced a check
Flown in a helicopter
Saved a favorite childhood toy
Visited the Lincoln Memorial
Eaten caviar
Pieced a quilt
Stood in Times Square
Toured the Everglades
Been fired from a job
Seen the Changing of the Guard in London
Broken a bone
Been on a speeding motorcycle
Seen the Grand Canyon in person
Published a book (If magazines count)
Visited the Vatican
Bought a brand new car
Walked in Jerusalem
Had my picture in the newspaper
Read the entire Bible
Visited the White House
Killed and prepared an animal for eating
Had chickenpox
Saved someone's life
Sat on a jury
Met someone famous
Joined a book club
Lost a loved one
Had a baby
Seen the Alamo in person
Swam in the Great Salt Lake
Been involved in a law suit
Owned a cell phone
Been stung by a bee
Ridden an elephant

Haggis, Tatties, and Neeps

Yesterday after church, one of our elder statesmen invited me to their home for dinner last night, announcing (after I accepted) that we would be having haggis.

Now, I have read enough to know that haggis is essentially minced sheep's innards boiled in a sheep's stomach but I have never experienced it. I'm not a particularly adventurous eater but I do enjoy these folks' company and trusted that they wouldn't serve me anything noxious.

There were several other guests, among them a couple with considerable haggis-eating experience (and, coincidentally, a couple whom I married a year or so ago just before she underwent her next set of chemo---"I want to wear my wedding dress before my hair falls out again" was her statement when she asked me to officiate). So the evening promised to be exceptional, whether or not I enjoyed the meal.

But haggis, served with tatties and neeps, turned out to be quite tasty, a sort of lamb-flavored meat loaf served in a wedge with nice lumpy mashed potatoes and mild, sweet mashed rutabaga. For dessert we had meringues and berry compote plus a slice of a pie-like sweet whose name I can't recall.

I'm told that Robbie Burns Day, in January, is the normal time for serving this traditional Scots meal. But perhaps too much fanfare for such an unusual meal has the effect of turning off potential gourmands, as it does for potential lutefisk eaters around Christmas. I haven't eaten lutefisk either, despite my Scandinavian heritage, though lefse is quite palatable. Maybe if I try it at a different time of the year....