A UU Trilogy: Justice, Equity and Compassion

JUSTICE, EQUITY, COMPASSION: A UU TRILOGY

Rev. Kit Ketcham, March 8, 2009

Wanna sing a subversive song with me? "This land is your land, this land is my land, from California to the New York Island, from the redwood forest to the Gulf stream waters, this land was made for you and me."

Woody Guthrie, who wrote this familiar song, was a man of the people. He was no ivory-tower celebrity who spent millions on good causes by writing checks to large foundations. He was just a poor man who traveled far and wide to find work so that he could support his family during the Depression.

And though he was not a Unitarian like his pal Pete Seeger, he really had a handle on our Second Principle: that we affirm and promote Justice, Equity, and Compassion in Human Relations. He supported unions at a time when there was terrible violence against those who would organize working people. He refused to sing for soldiers unless all were permitted to attend the performance in a time when the Armed Forces were segregated.

In 1938, Irving Berlin wrote "God Bless America" and Kate Smith made it famous, but Woody thought the song had it all wrong. There was no soul searching there, just blind patriotism expressed by the song, however beautiful and melodic it was, and he detected a refusal to look at what needed correcting in this country. So he sat down to write a song about what being an American meant to him and "This Land is Your Land" came into being.

Because this song was written by a man who was beaten and had his guitar busted over his head for sticking up for labor rights, it has special meaning and is not just a catchy tune, a fun song to sing.

When Woody wrote my favorite verse: "As I was walkin I saw a sign there and that sign said private property, but on the other side, it didn't say nothin', that side was made for you and me." he was expressing his sense that America was divided into the haves and the have nots and that this was not his idea of justice, equity, and compassion.

He also wrote this verse, which was not allowed on the airwaves for a time: "In the squares of the city, in the shadow of the steeple, near the relief office I see my people, and some are grumblin' and some are wonderin' if this land's still made for you and me."

Being wealthy didn't make America a good nation, in Woody's view. Being prosperous didn't mean much if you didn't share what you had, if you didn't try to help the little guy better his or her life. This song didn't make a lot of people happy, but Woody didn't do it for them. He did it for the ones who were beaten down by a system that refused them entrance; he wanted America to be their land too.

John Steinbeck once said "Woody is just Woody. Thousands of people don't know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and he is, in a way, that people. Harsh-voiced and nasal, his guitar hanging like a tire iron on a rusty rim, there is nothing sweet about Woody and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who still listen. There is the will of a people to endure and fight oppression. I think we call this the American spirit."

In these days, we are all worried about our bottom line, we are all wondering what will happen next in the fluctuations of the housing market, the financial institutions, prices at the grocery store, we are more and more on a playing field that has been leveled by common financial disaster. We are more and more challenged to make do with what we've got.

In the headlines and on the front pages, we see the downfall of institutions which did not offer true justice, did not treat people equitably, did not consider compassion something valuable. In the eight years of our former administration, we saw public leaders debased, shamed, and ejected for their ethical lapses. We saw wealthy CEOs scrambling to "get theirs" as financial institutions collapsed around them, as ordinary people lost their savings, as hard workers lost their jobs.

We have seen firsthand in these days what it means when justice, equity and compassion are lacking in a nation. And I hope we will see what it means when justice, equity, and compassion are the bedrock on which our nation operates.

I sometimes jump to conclusions about what words really mean---and I'm sometimes wrong---so I consulted a good dictionary for definitions of each of these words and was struck by what I learned.

Justice is, in a word or two, the existence of a proper balance in making judgments, hence the blindfolded figure with her scales held forth, illustrating that justice cares only for balance, that two (or more) qualities or items or outcomes or groups are equal to each other.

But I also wondered how better minds than mine have seen the quality of justice. Let's hear some quotes from some well-known people, regarding the concept of justice. (quotes followed--see later post)

As we flesh out what justice means for real human beings, particularly those who look at the world through a larger lens that we can, we see that it can have connections to the collective conscience, as seen by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, to class differences in the eyes of Albert Einstein, to liberty according to Clarence Darrow, to identity with a community as seen by Elie Wiesel, to personal integrity in the eyes of Eugene Debs, and to the establishment of true peace according to the Dalai Lama.

We ourselves sort through the events of our own daily lives and weigh them on the scale of justice. Is it just to have a reservation system for the ferry? Is it fair to close certain schools and not others, as Seattle is debating? Do our news media report the news in a fair and balanced way? Did the referee make a fair call when she declared a runner out on first base in a close play?

Sometimes the justice of a decision can't be seen immediately. Sometimes we never see the justice of a decision or have to rely on others' reports to be assured that an outcome was fairly derived.

We get frustrated with both injustice and delayed justice and the Buddhist/Hindu idea of "karma", or that a person's good or evil deeds will have consequences later, often doesn't satisfy a Westerner's sense of right and wrong nor dampen the desire for vengeance.

Injustice inevitably has the outcome of resentment, anger, rebellion, and even violence. We see this happening every day; terrorists, for example, choose a violent and murderous path in response to perceived injustices by others. A pattern of violence tends to become endemic if injustice is not reversed so that justice prevails.

And what of equity? Equity is often used interchangeably with the term equality and yet equity actually refers to evenhanded treatment under the law. Equity was at stake when women asked for equal pay for equal work. Equity was at stake when a man of color was picked up for speeding when a white man was not.

And equity is at stake in this little rhyme, which you may remember:

"The rain, it raineth all about, upon the just and unjust fella,
But more upon the just because the unjust has the just's umbrella."

Let's hear what some great minds have had to say about equity. (quotes)

In these observations we hear a number of cogent applications of the concept of equity. There is the acknowledgment by DH Lawrence of equity's timelessness, that the day and age don't matter to the principles of ethics and justice, that equity does not change with the calendar.
Confucius skewered the small-minded person for going after profits rather than equitable treatment. Edmund Burke thought of equity as being part of the law of nature, steadfast and unchanging and equal in its application to all. Roger L'estrange condemned those laws which legalize and institutionalize inequity, even though he was not a particularly equitable person himself according to history. And Ambedkar pointed out the ties between equity and equality, as a fundamental reason for equal treatment.

So it would seem that justice and equity can be defined in fairly concrete terms, that there is little wiggle room in the application of justice and equity under the law, that no matter what, the law must be equally applied to all regardless of circumstance or handicap or age.

A developmentally delayed man is convicted of first degree murder and is sentenced to death. A woman who shoots and injures her abusive spouse is sentenced to 20 years in prison. A child who bullies other children after having been beaten up himself by an abusive father is expelled from school.

Wait a minute----something twitches in me when I learn about these kinds of scenarios and I'll bet it twitches in you too.

Yes, wrongdoing must be punished. Killing or injuring or abusing another person is wrong and deserves equal treatment under the law. But the man is developmentally delayed, perhaps even mentally ill. The woman lashed out in self-defense or retaliation after years of violence against her and her children. The child bully has been bullied all his life by his father.

What twitches in us at that moment, when we wonder if justice and equity are really unchanging, is our conscience, our inborn empathy and compassion for another's pain and the understanding that comes from knowing another's life story.

Oh boy, that muddies the picture, doesn't it?

Let's hear some observations about compassion from some well known people: (hear quotes)

Powerful thoughts from powerful thinkers and challenging to the rationality of the ideas of pure justice and pure equity.

My colleague the Rev. Martha Nussbaum, formerly a professor of philosophy, a prominent lecturer at the University of Chicago's Law School and connected with the World Institute for Development Economics Research, once wrote a small book entitled "Poetic Justice", in which she calls attention to the lack of adequate attention to the real life circumstances of human beings, as taught in law school.

In fact, I asked lawyer friends how much they'd learned about compassion in law school and the answer was "NOTHING". In fact, an old friend, Tom Gray, who went as far as to pass the bar but never practiced law, wrote: "One of the major memorable things I took away from law school is that the law is not about figuring out what is the RIGHT thing to do, but about knowing how close you can get to the edge of what is wrong without being illegal."

The study of law tends to disregard and discount human emotion and the complex social structures that are part of human life. Economics, particularly, is devoid of real life models, yet utilitarian economics tends to dominate public policy and legal decision making.

Nussbaum's suggestion in "Poetic Justice" is that those training to make critical legal decisions about others' lives need to read more novels!

I like that idea! And she goes on to flesh out her theory by highlighting the themes of classic literary novels in which real human living with all of its challenges is laid out in both its bleak and joyous moments. Dickens, Steinbeck, O'Connor, Austen, Conroy, the list of names is endless of those authors who have chronicled the human condition and from whom judges might learn.

One of the most powerful literary conversations in my memory hit me between the eyes when I was reading the Tolkien trilogy of novels entitled "The Lord of The Rings". Granted, this is not exactly real human living, but hobbits seem to have many human characteristics!

You may recall the story line, that the hobbit Frodo has come into possession of the Ring of Power and is on his way to cast it into the Crack of Doom and save MiddleEarth from destruction. But the creature Gollum, horribly deformed by his love of the Ring and determined to get it back from Frodo, pursues him and his companions, threatening them and making their trip even more hazardous.

Gandalf the Wizard is with Frodo when Frodo is most angry and fearful about this impossible journey. Here is that conversation.

'But this is terrible!' cried Frodo. 'Far worse than the worst that I
imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that
Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'

'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike
without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that(Bilbo) took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his
ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.'

I am sorry,' said Frodo. 'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity
for Gollum.'

'You have not seen him,' Gandalf broke in.

'No, and I don't want to,' said Frodo. 'I can't understand you. Do you
mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those
horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy.
He deserves death.'

'Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some
that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager
to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all
ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but
there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My
heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before
the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many
- yours not least.'

Pity……. Mercy……. Compassion, a profound emotion prompted by the pain of others and a desire not to cause further pain, but to alleviate that pain, if possible. Compassion is at the root of human efforts to reach out to those in pain. Compassion tempers the stringencies of justice and equity. Compassion is the source of the Golden Rule, which is the foundation of all the world's major religious traditions.

Compassion is why we strive for marriage equality for all couples, because we can't help but see the pain caused when a loving family is denied recognition and justice. Compassion is why we reach out to the homeless, because we can't bear the thought that children are living in tents in the woods here on Whidbey. Compassion is why we work to find ways of reaching our returning veterans, many of whom are in terrible pain because of what their country has asked them to do.

Compassion is why we bring our food stuffs and paper goods to the food bank Good Cheer. Compassion is why we take stands against torture and religious persecution. Compassion is why we donate our money to support charities like Habitat and Hearts and Hammers and the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee and flood relief and the list goes on: Darfur, Sudan, Tibet, Iraqi civilians.

We cannot be immune to human suffering. In these hard times, when we may be struggling ourselves, financially and worried about the world's economy, we may find that reaching out to others who are in worse need gives us the strength to be optimistic even in the face of hard times. We are all part of the interdependent web; we can lean on each other and by doing so, provide support for others.

Let me close with these words, written when I was a member of the Caring Committee of Jefferson Unitarian Church, in Golden, Colorado. I think they apply to us here today as well:

"We (are) a church where each member is a minister and with each smile, each kindness, each word of encouragement, every offer of help, every hug and touch, every moment spent listening to another, we knit up the rips and tears in the interdependent web and bring each other closer to spiritual wholeness."

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


BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering that while we work for justice and equity in our land, we must also offer compassion for those who are in pain, no matter which side of the law they are on. May we do what we can to ease each other's pain in this human life and may we find the many rewards of living with justice, equity and compassion. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

JUSTICE QUOTES:
Alexander Solzhenitsyn:

Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice.

Albert Einstein:

I regard class differences as contrary to justice and, in the last resort, based on force.

Clarence Darrow:

You can only protect your liberties in this world by protecting the other man's freedom. You can only be free if I am free.

Elie Wiesel:

This is the duty of our generation as we enter the twenty-first century -- solidarity with the weak, the persecuted, the lonely, the sick, and those in despair. It is expressed by the desire to give a noble and humanizing meaning to a community in which all members will define themselves not by their own identity but by that of others.

Eugene V. Debs:

Yes, I am my brother's keeper. I am under a moral obligation to him that is inspired, not by any maudlin sentimentality but by the higher duty I owe myself. What would you think me if I were capable of seating myself at a table and gorging myself with food and saw about me the children of my fellow beings starving to death.

the Dalai Lama:

Peace, in the sense of the absence of war, is of little value to someone who is dying of hunger or cold. It will not remove the pain of torture inflicted on a prisoner of conscience. It does not comfort those who have lost their loved ones in floods caused by senseless deforestation in a neighboring country. Peace can only last where human rights are respected, where the people are fed, and where individuals and nations are free.

EQUITY QUOTES
“Ethics and equity and the principles of justice do not change with the calendar.”
D.H. Lawrence

"Of all injustice, that is the greatest which goes under the name of law; and of all sorts of tyranny the forcing of the letter of the law against the equity, is the most insupportable”
Roger L'Estrange

“There is but one law for all, namely, that law which governs all law, the law of our Creator, the law of humanity, justice, equity - the law of nature, and of nations.”
Edmund Burke

“The proper man understands equity, the small man profits.”
Confucius

“Justice has always evoked ideas of equality, of proportion of compensation. Equity signifies equality. Rules and regulations, right and righteousness are concerned with equality in value. If all men are equal, then all men are of the same essence, and the common essence entitles them of the same fundamental rights and equal liberty... In short justice is another name of liberty, equality and fraternity.”
B. R. Ambedkar (Indian Politician and founder Of the Indian Constitution.)


COMPASSION QUOTES
Barack Obama:
You know, there's a lot of talk in this country about the federal deficit. But I think we should talk more about our empathy deficit -- the ability to put ourselves in someone else's shoes; to see the world through the eyes of those who are different from us -- the child who's hungry, the steelworker who's been laid-off, the family who lost the entire life they built together when the storm came to town. When you think like this -- when you choose to broaden your ambit of concern and empathize with the plight of others, whether they are close friends or distant strangers -- it becomes harder not to act; harder not to help.


Arnold Schopenhauer:
Compassion is the basis of morality.

George Washington Carver:
How far you go in life depends on you being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and the strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these.

the Dalai Lama:
Compassion is the radicalism of our time. If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.

Welcome, California Girl in Massachusetts!

Please welcome my colleague and friend the Rev. Dorothy Emerson to the blogosphere. I hope you'll visit and make her welcome, read her posts and give her lots of good feedback. She's a terrific, talented, loving minister with many credits to her name in the UU realm.

She's blogging at California Girl in Massachusetts.

Check her out!

Flogging for Blogging

(NOTE: I changed the title of this post once I found the definition of "flogging" that didn't involve bodily pain. It's British vernacular, meaning "selling", but I wasn't sure until I found it in an online dictionary. Don't you love unusual meanings of ordinary words? I do.)

On the ministers' chat lately there has been a thread of commentary about blogging and whether or not it is worthwhile as a medium for communicating our faith, our congregational events, our lives, that sort of thing. It was spurred by the question of a colleague who asked whether any of us blogged and whether we found it helpful or meaningful in our professional and personal lives.

It was interesting to me to read the responses of non-blogging colleagues; they were mostly negative. Some had had experience with blogging and had not kept it up, for a variety of reasons. Others who had not blogged were, nevertheless, negative. Maybe not insultingly so, but brushing off the medium of blogging as either irrelevant or too opinionated to be helpful.

Those of us who maintain blogs and have done so for awhile were very positive about our experiences as bloggers. Among those in favor were James Ford of Monkey Mind and Christine Robinson of iMinister, both blogs I read regularly and whose comradeship I appreciate. Their blogs are quite different from mine, both in frequency and in content. I like to think we each fill a niche.

When Kari of Chalice Spark and I decided we'd offer a workshop at our recent district Annual Meeting, we were surprised and pleased by the large turnout we had for what we thought might be a relatively minor contribution to the panoply of workshops. But we had over thirty people attend, some of whom had already started the process of blogging, either for personal use or congregational events, but several of whom had no experience at all with the mechanics of the internet.

I know that many folks are intimidated by the technology of recent years which has made blogs so popular, along with social networks like Facebook (yes, I'm now addicted to Facebook!) and MySpace, Twitters, and the like. And it's true that there is so much out there that it can be overwhelming. It can be hard, as well, to separate the good from the bad media.

But what I think I like about blogging is that it gives me an outlet for thoughts that I might not feel like putting in a sermon or other congregational space. It's a source of friends and others' wisdom. It's a way to keep in touch with people I rarely see. It's a way to provoke and participate in a deeper conversation.

I learn a lot from those who comment, even the snarky ones. I have control over what is published in the comments, which helps to focus the conversation. I have the opportunity to encourage topical comments, even when they're not particularly pleasant. I feel as though I am fostering UU openness and diversity in a small way.

It will be interesting to see how today's media and networking technologies morph over the coming years.

Good DRE Hunting

A few weeks ago, our wonderful Director of Religious Education let us know that she and her family would be moving out of state by April 1. She has been with us for three years and has absolutely transformed our Religious Education program--partly by enrolling her own daughter, a few grandkids, and enlisting the help of another friend as a teacher, who brought her own two children. When we dedicated kids that first year, we dedicated a horde of youngsters who were brought in by Lorie.

But she's been a dynamo with RE, even though she was not familiar with UUism at first and had a lot to learn. Under her direction, we've doubled the size of our program, our enrollment, and the interest of our congregation in RE!

So how do we replace her? This is the first time our congregation has done a real search for a DRE. When we found Lorie, it was more word of mouth than anything. She just appeared in the radar of the RE chair and was hired, just like that. But we're better organized now, we have a larger RE committee of parents and non-parents, and when we put an ad in the paper for a "liberal religious education director", we got several good applicants.

NOTE: a friendly congregant who reads this blog updated me on the extensive work that was done in hiring Lorie, work which I didn't fully see because my hours and time on the island were different at that time. Sorry for that oversight. It just looked like magic to me!

We've now interviewed and are leaning toward one candidate, though we haven't offered that person anything yet. But it's been an opportunity to assess what we want in our RE program, what we want RE to mean in the life of the congregation.

My personal view is that Religious Education is essential in a strong UU congregation. Our children need to know what their religious roots are, what our beliefs are, what we think about important religious concepts like a relationship with God, with Jesus, with other religious thinking.

It simply isn't true that if you're a UU you can believe anything you want! Since our beliefs shape our behavior and we ask certain behavior of our members, people tend to believe the same things, with variations. And we want our kids to be able to think through those behaviors and beliefs and own them, not just repeat them ritualistically. We want them to be able to answer their playground friends who may ask "do you believe in God?", "what do you believe about Jesus? or Mary or Buddha?", "are you saved?".

We give our kids time to work these things out themselves, through story, through wonderment, through conversation. We accept them as real people, with their own thoughts and ideas and preferences. We don't mind if they question what we tell them. But we do require that they treat others and the earth with respect and fairness.

The Favorite Son will doubtless have his own take on his RE upbringing, but I am convinced that the RE program at our home church in Colorado saved his bacon---and mine. Gosh, he was a rowdy kid, not a bad kid, just a small boy whose parents had divorced and who was too bright and too mouthy for his own good. He made a lot of parents uneasy; we were even kicked out of our "extended family" group because the two daughters of another family didn't like him. That still stings, but it's another story.

When the FS was in middle school, JUC offered what was then called AYS or "About Your Sexuality". Our current program is called OWL, "Our Whole Lives" and is a sexuality education course developed jointly by the UUA and the United Church of Christ. It's powerful stuff, and it's offered at various age levels.

The FS took it at about age 14 and that was a critical year for him. During that rough year of adolescence, he transitioned from being a kid who either alienated other kids by his behavior or enlisted them into his antics into a young man who cared about other people, who could take responsibility for his behavior, who could make amends for mistakes, who could tailor his behavior to meet the needs of most circumstances. It was a wonderful thing.

Throughout the years of his growing up, the church's RE program supported him (and his dad and me) steadily. The DRE during those years at JUC never gave up on him, nor did other adults who worked with the kids. They knew he was worth hanging onto and they loved him.

That's what I want for all our children, a place at church where they are loved and valued and given the chance to bloom, to be who they are in their heart of hearts. That's what every child needs and what many churches don't provide. I want our kids to know what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist, how UUs live our lives, how we behave toward each other, how we respect ourselves and each other, and how we treat the earth.

So our new DRE, whoever that person may turn out to be, has a huge responsibility. But I know it will turn out well. There are some wonderful DREs nearby who will give all the help that person needs. Thanks to Kari and Kathy and Cathy, especially!

I'm not sick but.....

I have no voice to speak of (pun intended) and have withdrawn from our scheduled gig at Rockhoppers tonight. It just kills me to do this----performing is a major source of exhilaration for me and I love being part of Bayview Sound because these folks have become such good friends.

I felt a scratchy throat begin to develop on Thursday but ignored it until I went to the jam that night and found that the combination of a milky latte and scratchiness made it hard to stay on pitch or sing with any strength in my voice. Milk tends to do that to me---it was one of the unwritten laws of my college choir: don't drink milk at supper before a concert. And Thursday night it was clear that the combination had done me in.

It's very disconcerting to find a function of one's body suddenly untrustworthy. I've gotten used to the way my voice sounds in my ears; it's never been a problem to stay on pitch or to belt out a tune. But Thursday night was different, so I left early, came home and did the Neti-pot number and got out the Ricola.

Friday morning I was beginning to be dubious about whether Saturday night would find me recovered, but I went to the rehearsal in the afternoon because I was feeling less scratchy. I didn't sing at the rehearsal and came home early again. When I woke in the night with a very sore throat, I knew Saturday night's performance would not work for me.

This morning the guys are re-arranging the set list to cover for me and I'm feeling regretful but knowing I would not do myself any favors by trying to perform. I'd embarrass myself and not do the group any good either.

I heard Kris Kristofferson sing on the Colbert Report last night and he has clearly lost his voice. He sounded like I do right now, scratchy and off-key. I bet he was embarrassed too. I know just how I would feel in that situation. But voices come back if you take care of them, at least most of the time.

Guess I'll spend the day veging out and wishing I could sing.

There's a New Blog In Town!

This past weekend, Kari at Chalice Spark and I helped a group of interested folks create a new UU blog: Journey To the Center of the Blogosphere.


They'll be asking many questions about their own blogging journey and YOU might have the answers they need. Do come on over and comment, add your two cents worth, and know that you are helping to spread the word not only of blogging but of good will and peace on earth, which is, of course, the message of most religious thought.

Can we get a little UUpdates and DiscoverUU coverage for these newbies? Thanks, all.

I don't do Lent.

Nor Advent. I do do Christmas and Easter. There is no real logic to this pattern, other than my religious heritage. I grew up an American Baptist preacher's kid in Oregon and we just didn't do Lent and Advent. We did do Christmas and Easter in a big way. So you won't find me wearing ashes today, though I certainly respect and love those who do. And I always forget to plan around Advent after Thanksgiving, though I try to give a nod to it sometime in December.

Baptists, at least back then and I don't think it has changed, were not much into ceremony, though we did have our essential sacred rituals. We did baptism, which was a full-length dunk into a baptistry only big enough to accommodate the baptizer and the baptizee's height. I remember my 6'6" father, the Rev. Merritt B. Ketcham (in case anyone is googling him right now in hopes of discovering our genealogy), standing majestically in the baptistry, welcoming the next baptizee with an outstretched hand as that person carefully made his/her way down the steps into the water.

I was ever so proud of my dad during baptisms. He was big and strong and welcoming. I remember his welcoming every person who came down those steps into the water with him and I remember the smile on his face as he welcomed me, a child, into the baptismal water. But the moment I most loved was when he turned to face the congregation, as he stood in the baptistry water, lifted his arms in prayer, and said, in his sonorous voice, "And yet there is room".

(That memory gives me a lump in my throat even today and I've always wanted to use it in an illustration. Perhaps I will get my chance and you will find it in a sermon sometime.)

Another important sacred ritual for us Baptists was Communion. Notice I don't call it the Eucharist. For such plain-speaking folks as Baptists, "Eucharist" was a little high-minded and fancy. It was just a shared meal, for heaven's sake, a symbolic reminder of the Last Supper. Jesus probably thought of it as a Passover meal; it just happened to be the one immediately preceding his death.

I love Communion and I like to bring it to my congregation in various forms---Flower Communion, a Bread Communion, and others. But for me, Communion is also represented in congregational potlucks, the goodies someone brings to a board meeting, the refreshments during social hour, the animal crackers in the RE wing, a family meal or TGIF gathering or Happy Hour. It isn't fancy; it's real human sharing of food and drink at any time of year or day.

I'll be preaching on the UU Second Principle on March 8: "Justice, Equity, and Compassion in Human Relations". It seems to me that this principle says something about human sharing and welcome. Maybe I'll get a chance to reminisce about my Baptist days!

The Joy spreads to Bainbridge Island...

I got a note tonight from my friend and colleague Jaco tenHove who, with his partner Barbara Wells, are inviting same sex couples on Bainbridge Island to be married without fee, by them and not just in 2009 but until all couples can be legally married. I may have to follow suit because I like the significance of the open ended offer.

Here's a link to the op ed piece Jaco and Barbara wrote for their newspaper; you'll find it here.

Here's an interesting piece from the NYT

One of my congregants alerted me to an essay in the New York Times which I find very thought-provoking and I would appreciate your thoughts on it. It's about the culture wars over the issues which divide us so badly: abortion and same sex marriage.

Here's the link.

Has Maxie Reformed?

Amazingly, when I got home today from the AGM and went into my bedroom, I found that nobody (aka Maxwelton) had peed on the bed or torn up kleenex or ripped off Loosy's ear or done anything bad that I could discover. Of course, he headed for tall timber once I let him out the door and I may not see him again till morning, but I don't have to clean up any messes!

My friend Donna thinks maybe he has reformed!

Review of the Annual General Meeting, aka AGM

My dear niece-in-law, Christina, asked me what AGM meant recently, so I need to be careful to spell out the alphabet soup stuff. Annual General Meeting is our UU district gathering, which happens yearly. For the two days before the AGM, we ministers have a short retreat as well, so I have been in Salem, Oregon, since Wednesday. Now it's Sunday morning and I 'm getting ready to go home, very joyfully!

It's not because this has been a bad experience; I just like to be at home rather than living out of a suitcase. But when I go away on professional stuff like this, I almost always get to room with my longtime friend Sue, and that's worth the price of admission right there. I haven't decided yet whether I"ll stay for worship at 10 a.m., because I am eager to get on the way home. I just know Max will have done something irritating---either to Loosy or the bed or the garbage can or something---which I will have to clean up before I go to bed, and I'd rather that was earlier rather than later.

Anyhow, this has been a good few days. In addition to the professional activities, Sue and I went to see some of the sights around Salem. We explored the Mission Mill museum and grounds a little bit and also rode on the carousel down in Riverfront Park, had a great lunch at McGrath's (oysters! yum!), and I even got over to Fred Meyer to pick up some Friskies cat food on sale, a lot cheaper than I can buy it on the island.

The retreat part was pretty much centered around telling the UUA candidates for prez what we feel the churches out here on the front lines need from the UUA. I am glad that they were interested. I'm also glad that both of them are from the West. I am alarmed by the divide between the Western churches and the East coast churches. Though the theology is the same, there seems to be a different energy on the western edge of the UUA, from the Rocky Mt. States, though including Texas, over to the coast. I understand it's similar in the South. Things are popping here, but less so in the East, though I'm sure there are exceptions to that.

There seems to be an attitude among the Easties at the UUA that small congregations aren't much worth bothering with and that big congregations should be our goal. Well, let me tell you, Whidbey Island will never be a big church. There simply aren't enough UU-types to fill the seats. There are many places out here where there needs to be a small church to serve the retired folks who have moved in, the families of telecommuters, and the longtime residents who need a spiritual community and are not served by the local offerings. And there isn't any other church for 50 or more miles. So small churches are a fact of life and the UUA needs to give us more support, rather than striving for huge churches.

Anyhow, the AGM itself has been good. Our keynoter was Bill Schultz, former president of Amnesty International, now retired and doing a lot of other similar stuff. He was a terrific speaker, gave me many new ideas for my own work.

Our workshop went so well and Kari and I were delighted with the turnout. And last night's banquet featured a playlet of the Scopes trial, with local actors using a script that was taken straight from the actual trial transcript. Great!

So today I'll be heading home, to clean up whatever mess Maxie has made and let him go outdoors for awhile. It will be good to be home. We have rehearsals all week for upcoming gigs and I need to be singing something besides hymns for awhile!

Resources from the workshop "Journey to the Center of the Blogosphere"

In our Annual General Meeting workshop today, Kari (of Chalice Spark) and I offered the following resources to our attendees and agreed to post them on each blog for folks to use. We started a new blog, entitled "Journey to the Center of the Blogosphere" during the workshop and hope that many of those who attended the workshop will contribute to that blog over the coming days and weeks.

Philocrites: Guide to UU Blogs

UUpdates: Blog aggregator

Discover UU: Blog aggregator

Interdependent Web: UU World web round up

Blogger: blog hosting

World Press: blog hosting

Live Journal: blog hosting

UUA Resource: Setting up a blog

UUA Resource: Best Practices for Blogging

We had a great group of interested folks---about 30!---who were full of questions and enthusiasm. Thanks to all of you who came to hear us blather on about how much fun blogging is and how important it has become in our lives! I hope you all have as much pleasure blogging as we are having.

Looking forward to our Winter Retreat and the Annual General Meeting

You wouldn't necessarily think that a district general meeting would be that much fun, but it always comes in February, about the time when I start getting cabin fever because of the chilly rainy weather, I'm missing my comrades in "arms" (or rather vestments), I'm wanting to kick back a bit and not worry about the next sermon coming up. Our district AGM (annual general meeting) is coming up this weekend and tomorrow is the first day of our UUMA winter retreat, all down in Salem, Oregon.

A colleague emailed me recently and asked me to help her with the music for tomorrow night's worship, which I'm glad to do. When we get together as colleagues, there is such a sense of relief and feeling of camaraderie and worship is always calming and joyous. We also have a tradition in our chapter of saying "yes" to requests from colleagues; our foremothers and forefathers in the PNWD have taught us to respond in this way as part of our own spiritual discipline and that's why I say yes as often as I can.

Our program on Thursday will be a chance to get acquainted with Peter Morales and Laurel Hallman, our candidates for UU president. I know both of them equally well and I see that they each bring certain gifts to the role. I haven't decided for sure who I will vote for---and it all depends on whether I actually make it to GA in SLC in June---but I am leaning toward Laurel. I think she has the depth and experience to be a good president. I like Peter however, and his thoughts about growth are intriguing. So we'll see .

On Friday, our chapter has its business meeting and later on in the afternoon, congregational delegates begin to arrive. That evening is the banner parade, always a stellar event, and the kickoff assembly.

Saturday is a full day of workshops. Chalice Spark Kari and I are doing a workshop on blogging. We intend to start a UU blog right on the spot, show our attendees how to contribute to it, and get it up and running so that they can have some hands-on practice. We only have an hour and fifteen minutes, so I'm not sure how far we'll get, but it will be fun to talk blogging with others.

William Schultz, formerly of Amnesty International, is our keynoter and I'm looking forward to hearing him speak. There's the requisite banquet and hoopla of awards that night, followed (usually) by a band and dancing.

Sunday morning we'll worship together and head for home. I'll probably be offline most of the time I'm there but may check in periodically. Miss me, 'kay?

How Proposal 2009 came to be: the story

Here's a link to the post I gave to Inspired Faith, Effective Action, the UUA's social justice blog.

Pix from last night's Pete Preview

Here's our motley crew singing for the Hearts and Hammers dinner last night.
Photos by Sharen Heath.

Higher than a Kite!

I'm just home from the Hearts and Hammers fundraiser dinner. This is a yearly event, always happening around Valentine's Day, when for $5 you can get a great spaghetti dinner, see all your friends from up and down the island, and support the cause of home repairs for needy folks on the island.

This year our Pete Seeger group was invited to sing for the edification of the diners, as a preview for our upcoming Pete Seeger 90th Birthday Bash on May 1. There were about eight of us with guitars, a mandolin, harmonica, piano, dobro, and accordion. We sang the Hammer Song, Where Have all the Flowers Gone, Union Maid, Sloop John B, We Shall Overcome, and This Land is Your Land.

Because the diners are coming and going all evening, we sang all of our songs several times, moving to various parts of the hall so that everyone could participate.

It was just great! If I can get ahold of some pictures, I'll post them. I am tired and yet wound up with adrenalin. People sang along with us, a couple of women got up and danced, everyone seemed to love it. So I'm hoping we'll have a wonderful turnout for our concert.

Tomorrow is a busy day, with a wedding at 11 a.m., a koffee klatch in Coupeville from 1-3, a wedding consult in Coupeville at 3, and then home to put my feet up and recover. Sunday is a Woodinville day, but that's easy, even with all the shopping I usually try to do on my way home.

Today has been a good day.

Freedom to Marry Week

I'm pleased to be one of the folks blogging for the UUA's Social Justice Office this week; my offering to Freedom to Marry week will be published at the blog Inspired Faith, Effective Action on Saturday the 14th. The topic of that post will be our local project "Proposal 2009: Standing on the Side of Love" and how it came about.

But there's a backstory to that story. It goes back a long way, to the mid-70's, when I did not know that any of my friends or acquaintances were gay or lesbian, much less what it meant to be bisexual or transgender or intersex. I was a young mother at the time, married, a school counselor, pretty uninformed about a lot of issues, particularly this one.

One day I got a letter from a good friend from college. This is a paraphrase of her words: "Dear Kit, thanks for your note. I have been in a terrible car accident. Actually, it was no accident---I tried to kill myself by driving off the Hawthorne Bridge in Portland. Paramedics patched me up and got me to the hospital. It was touch and go for awhile, but I'll be okay. The reason I did it was, well, I have to be honest. I'm a lesbian but I hope we can still be friends."

That was my first awareness of the misery that being a closeted gay/lesbian person can bring. My friend had always been cheerful, funny, talented, smart. Now I was finding out that she had been faking it all the years I'd known her, that she was so desperately unhappy that she had attempted suicide in an effort to find peace.

Her situation opened my eyes to the injustice that bglt people can face in our fearful and bigoted world. Not long after this, I learned that two of my former school counselees were gay; I began to hear the words "so gay" and "faggot" used as insults and started correcting kids when they used these expressions. It became known around my junior high that "Ms. K" could be trusted and girls came to talk about their love for another girl; suicidal kids came to talk about their desperation and fear that they were gay. Bglt faculty members trusted me enough to be "out" with me about their relationships at a time when a gay teacher was considered a threat.

Out of that awakening in my life has grown a commitment to advocacy for sexual minorities. After I retired from school counseling and went on to seminary, I discovered the disparities between our UU belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person and the punitive and restrictive attitudes of many other mainline denominations. Only a few denominations have the freedom we do---to welcome bglt folks into our congregations, into the ministry, to perform weddings between same sex couples. And those who want that freedom find that church law and/or congregational attitudes prevent them from having it.

As a minister, I've actively politicked against anti-gay laws in Oregon, marched in Pride parades, married same sex couples, advocated for marriage equality with the legislature and preached about justice repeatedly. As a human being, I cherish my lesbian and gay friends and neighbors.

And in response to those who think that homosexuality is a bad thing, a punishable act, a way of living to be shunned and shamed, I want to ask this question: why would God create beings who are physically attracted to their own gender and then punish them by not allowing them to be the creation God made? All of creation is good and beautiful and deserves life. Every being has a place in the universe. Every being deserves to love and to be loved, to cherish and to be cherished, to be itself in all the glory that the Creator has given it.

Long ago a young girl talked to me about how ashamed she felt because she was attracted to girls, not boys. Her church and her parents were trying to force her into a mold that just didn't fit for her, telling her that she would go to hell if she didn't change. As her counselor, I couldn't tell her about my life-saving religion, but I could say to her, "honey, it's okay to be who you are. We need more love in this world, not less." I hope she heard me.

Bayview Sound at Rockhoppers

I've deleted the video of our concert at Rockhoppers because the picture and sound are too jumpy and blurry; the video stops for no apparent reason for several minutes. Just take my word for it---we done good.

Standing on the Side of Love: the sermon

STANDING ON THE SIDE OF LOVE
Rev. Kit Ketcham, February 2009

Monday January 26 was an unusual day for me. It started out in a pretty ordinary way---I had to take my car into the Toyota dealer for some maintenance work and to get the rearview mirror replaced, an expensive proposition, all told, with ferry tickets adding to the total.

But they were going to give me a loaner car, since the work would take several hours, so I decided to make the best of it and see the Lucy exhibit at the Pacific Science Center, a display that I'd been wanting to explore ever since it came to town. "Lucy", as you may already know, is an exhibit of the archaeological discovery of ancient bones and artifacts dating back 3 million years.

When I arrived at the Science Center, I discovered that my fellow explorers of Lucy and her roots in Ethiopia were a noisy bunch of high school kids, which I followed around through the various displays, marveling once again at the many variations on the adolescent theme.

They were a nice bunch of kids though and I felt tolerant of their teenage behavior, though it was clear that rapt contemplation was not their forte. It was something, however, that I had been hoping for, so I quickly moved through the preliminary exhibits, past all the teenagers, and found myself eventually at the heart of the exhibit, a small, quiet room with one case in the middle of it.

It took me a moment to realize that in the case, carefully placed, were the actual fossilized bones of Lucy, the remains of the most ancient early human yet discovered. As I stood there and gazed down at those ancient relics, a recognizable skeletal human frame, I felt tears building behind my eyes and a lump in my throat.

This seemed a little odd at first and because I could hear the teenage rumble building behind me, I didn't linger long after marveling at the bones and at the replica of those bones which had been mounted in another case. Handing in my audio device to an attendant, I mentioned my surprising emotional response and she remarked that another woman had come through earlier and had burst into tears looking at the bones.

Sitting in the food court a little while later, I pulled out the newsprint article that accompanied my ticket to the exhibit and began to read more about Lucy. Gradually it dawned on me that what had moved me wasn't the scientific meaning of the discovery of her remains, it wasn't the evolutionary link that was forged by the discovery, it wasn't the majesty of the Ethiopian hills where she was found or the tenacity of the archeologists who dug her up.

The intensity of my emotional response came out of the realization that Lucy was a human being, like me. Like me, she had worried about how she would feed and clothe her child, whether her mate was a reliable provider, whether the dangers of the world would bring harm to herself and those she loved. She was too cold at times, too hot at times, too hungry at times, lonely and sleepy and angry and sad at times.

Like me she had wondered at the immensity of the sky, the moon, the stars, the sun, the weather, the natural patterns that provided structure to her life. Like me, she had wondered about how best to work with those patterns, how to use them to move through her days and her nights.

She had likely developed routines that used her knowledge of the natural world to survive. She may have tried to influence the natural world by treating it in special ways, with sacrifice, with nurture, with gratitude. She may have thought of the natural world as an entity which deserved to be worshipped and placated.

Absorbed in these thoughts, I left the food court and started back toward my parking place. Approaching the Space Needle, there in the middle of the Seattle Center, I noticed an elderly man sitting on a bench shaking a tambourine and singing. He had a paper cup out in front of him with a couple of dollar bills poking out.

I grimaced inwardly, thinking I would detour around him and not make eye contact. I wanted to stay in my thoughts about Lucy, not get sidetracked into issues of poverty or homelessness or whatever paying attention to this gentleman might mean.

As I got closer, fully intending to avoid connecting with him, I heard a man's voice say, as if to his child, "go ahead, honey, put the money in the cup" and saw a small child dart over to the cup with a dollar bill. And then, for reasons I still don't fully understand, I reached in my wallet, pulled out a fiver, placed it in the cup, and said, "can I sit and listen to you sing for awhile?"

He nodded and continued to play and sing: O Lord, I am so grateful; when I was lonely, you came to me, when I was sick, you healed me, when I was afraid, you comforted me; O Lord I am so thankful. Over and over he sang the same thing, shaking the tambourine, his eyes closed, and I started to kind of get in the groove of it all, nodding and swaying a bit myself. I also felt the tears pricking my eyelids and a lump in my throat. Why? I asked myself.

This guy's theology and mine were miles apart----in a way. We were philosophically different---in a way. We were economically different---in a way. We were racially different---in a way. And our theologies were similar---in another way; our philosophies similar---in another way. Economically we both struggled. Humanly, we were both tied to Lucy, our ancient sister.

Suddenly he stopped, stood up and started to preach. O Jesus, I love you, he preached; you've been so good to me, Lionel Lewis, you've given me strength and joy and love, you've told me to give the good news to others, you've given me a way of life that means the world to me, can I hear you say amen". Amen, I stuttered.

Again the tears behind my eyes and the whys in my head---Jesus had not been recognizably good to me--he was dead, after all--nor given me what he'd clearly given Lionel Lewis with his tambourine. But wait, something brought into my life goodness and strength and joy and love. Something told me to give the good news to others, something gave me a life that means the world to me. It might not be Jesus, but something was working in my life too.

In a bit of a daze, I said I had to go and stood up. Lionel Lewis, whose name now I will never forget, said to me as I turned to go, "Sister, you have been a blessing to me today and I thank you." And still in a daze, I replied, "Lionel Lewis, you have been a blessing to me today and I thank you." He held out his arms and I walked into them and we shared a long hug.

What does it mean, this story? Have you ever had such an experience? Let's pause for a few moments of silence and just let the stillness enter our hearts. No need to think, no need to do anything, just enjoy the silence.

As Effie and I were preparing the service for today, we spent some time talking about the various ways we use the word "Love", the various ways we think of the concept of Love.

There's romantic love, sexual love, love of family, love of friends. We love art and music, we love our pets, we love certain ideals, we love the natural world, many express love of God or Goddess.

We talk about unconditional love. We use the words Eros, Philia, Agape, those ancient Greek words that differentiate between physical love, familial and friendly love and perfect or ideal love.

We have been urged to "love our neighbors as ourselves" yet often view love of self as narcissistic and selfish. We often have no idea how to love God, for the whole concept of God can be so difficult.

We sometimes fear the responsibilities of loving and being loved, because sometimes another's love for us is engulfing or obsessive. So we may protect ourselves from this kind of love.

I don't know if you've ever been to summer camp, but we Camp Fire Girls had a favorite song we liked to sing at the nightly bonfires. "It's love, love, love that makes the world go round, it's love, love, love that makes the world go round…." The verses are a bit out of date, for we now know that it's not just boys, boys, boys that make the girls go round. It's often girls, girls, girls that make the girl go round. And boys often fall in love with other boys.

So there's another dimension added to our understandings of love, as we see longtime love relationships between our gay and lesbian friends, neighbors and family members. Our Proposal 2009: Standing on the Side of Love is our effort to acknowledge and honor those love relationships, and I'm very pleased about our doing this for our community.

But love goes way beyond the feelings we have for people, places, things, ideals. Let me re-read Effie's opening words, written by Brian Swimme in his book "The Universe is a Green Dragon".

"For the last few centuries…we have crippled many of our concepts and words. When we hear the word love, we think only in terms of human love, a very special sort of love. If we are going to think about love in its cosmic dimension, we must start with the universe as a whole. With the attraction that permeates the entire macrostructure---the allurement that all galaxies experience for all other galaxies…All communities of being are created in response to this mysterious alluring activity. Love is a word that points to this alluring activity in the cosmos which awakens the communities of atoms, galaxies, stars, families, nations, persons, ecosystems, oceans, and stellar systems. Love ignites being."

When she read this to me, it blew my mind! I remember learning in Sunday School that God is Love. It never occurred to me at that time to turn it around and say, "if God is Love, then Love must be God". That sure would have shifted any idea in my mind and about the old white guy in the sky reaching out a hand to Adam, as seen on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

For if Love is God, that makes perfect sense to me. Love is the Creator. Love is the instigator of growth. Love is the connector. Love is the everlasting force and is visible in relationships between people, between all animals, between trees and earth, between sky and sea. Love is not just poetry, an ideal, it is physical and metaphysical, a natural law with which we all live.

But we have squeezed the idea of love into a box; we use it sexually, manipulatively, commercially, guiltily. We see it as finite when it is infinite. We see it as limited, rather than limitless. We see it as scanty when it is abundant. We see it as coming and going, rather than omnipresent.

Perhaps there are not really many kinds of love. Perhaps there is really only one Love, with many, many words to describe it. Perhaps our vision of Love has been too small.

Long ago when I was in a 12-step program and asked to define my Higher Power, as I worked through the steps of recovery in AlAnon, I wasn't sure what I could call my Higher Power, since I had discarded long ago the idea of the old white guy in the sky.

My sponsor said that it was only necessary that I find something I could depend on which was stronger than I am. And after some thought, I settled on the natural force of gravity as my Higher Power. It controlled everything I did; I had to work with it in order to stay upright, in order to accomplish my daily tasks. I could not ignore it. It was good for me, as well, as it gave my legs and lungs a workout as I hiked up mountain trails, providing the resistance that made my legs and lungs stronger.

I could see, too, that most of the science I knew considered gravity a binding force in the universe, keeping planets and solar systems and even galaxies in their places in the cosmos. I figured I could count on gravity, that it would not go away.

It didn't occur to me to choose Love as my Higher Power at that point in my life, for I didn't see Love at that time as available to me all the time or infinitely or omnipresently. I saw it as finite, conditional, a feeling that was contingent on emotion and circumstances, not really unfailing. I didn't trust love at that time; my definition of love had let me down. But gravity! Gravity really works.

I checked out a definition of Gravity, to see if my intuitive understandings of gravity were accurate and I found this paragraph:

Gravitation is a natural phenomenon by which objects with mass attract one another.[1] In everyday life, gravitation is most commonly thought of as the agency which lends weight to objects with mass. Gravitation compels dispersed matter to coalesce, thus it accounts for the very existence of the Earth, the Sun, and most of the macroscopic objects in the universe. It is responsible for keeping the Earth and the other planets in their orbits around the Sun; for keeping the Moon in its orbit around the Earth, for the formation of tides; for convection (by which fluid flow occurs under the influence of a temperature gradient and gravity); for heating the interiors of forming stars and planets to very high temperatures; and for various other phenomena that we observe.

I'm beginning to think that gravity is just one of the words we use to describe Love, the Love that creates all being, the Love that is everlasting, infinite, omnipresent, the law that holds the universe together. I'm beginning to think that God is just one of those words too. I'm beginning to think that all the human words to describe Love are just our efforts to describe something we can barely measure.

Our Third Principle of Unitarian Universalism states that "we affirm and promote acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations". Another way to phrase it might be that "we promise to recognize and accept each other as creations of Love and that we encourage each other to use our Love to grow spiritually."

Can we expand our definition of Love to see it as the driving, coalescing, creative force in the Universe? Can we see it as that which has created all life, all beings, all things, which brings together disparate matter into communities of atoms, molecules, living creations of animals, trees, rocks, earth, stars, galaxies?

Can we see that Primary Force of Love in each other? in those we don't like? in those we don't know? in those we fear? Can we find that Primary Force of Love in ourselves? Can we see Love not as a feeling but as a generative, alluring, eternal force in the universe? And can we find, in that Love, a way to bring it to others?

On Feb. 12, we mark the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Darwin. In his theory of Evolution---and this next week is Evolution Week, in case you didn't know---Darwin started us thinking beyond the legends and myths of creation, got us considering a bigger story than we had heard before.

On that same date, we mark the birthday of Abraham Lincoln, surely another human being who started us thinking about a bigger story than we had heard before, turning our attention from the ways things had always been done to a new way of considering all human beings equal.

It's no coincidence, I think, that this week coming up is also Freedom to Marry Week, a week in which we celebrate another bigger story than we have heard before, in fact, the many stories of Love which transcend the standard one man/one woman story of attraction.

As we consider the idea of Love as the Primary Force in the Universe, Love as God, Love as Creator, Love as binder together of disparate matter, let us commit ourselves again to standing on the side of Love, not just for our gay and lesbian friends who want to be married in the eyes of the state but also for each of us and for our planet, for we have been created by love, we depend on love as we depend on gravity for our connections to each other. Let us stand on the side of Love forever and always.

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 are created by Love, we are bound together by Love, we have Love to give ourselves, each other, and the larger community. May we reach out in Love to each other, may we be gentle with ourselves, and may we find ways to offer our love to the world. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

Standing on the Side of Love

Freedom to Marry week is coming up and I will be posting on the topic as part of the UUA's involvement. Here's a video that I think you'll like.

When Max decorates...

Can you tell I found something disgusting on the deck today? and yesterday? and the day before?

Suddenly a big frog in a small pond...

What an interesting few days it's been! On Saturday morning I walked down to the newspaper box near my mailbox to pick up the Seattle Times and Post-Intelligencer papers, plus the local South Whidbey Record. I'd been interviewed and photographed on Thursday by their reporter and he'd guessed that the story would be printed on Saturday.

I opened the SWR and was astounded to find the Proposal 2009 story taking up about a third of the front page, with my grinning visage prominently displayed. I didn't expect to be front page news; I thought we would be discreetly placed more toward the middle. But there I was, standing in front of our new building grinning like a possum eating bumblebees.

Saturday morning is a time I look forward to because I like to head over to a local cafe and have breakfast. I walked into the cafe and the server/cook said immediately, "say, you're all over the front page of the paper this morning, aren't you? I think it's great what you're doing!"

The day kind of went like that, with one person or another mentioning the article and photo, all positively. Sunday morning the article was placed prominently on a bulletin board and again more mention.

Sunday night I attended a retirement reception for the former director of the Whidbey Institute and every other person seemed to be saying "hey, here's our local celebrity, we think it's great what you're doing". And one lesbian couple made arrangements to meet later to discuss their wedding and set a date.

No negative responses at all so far, though surely somebody must disagree with this! Even the guys in my lectionary study group were supportive, though they might not do it themselves, they approved of my doing it.

And this morning, our administrator let me know that she had received a phone message from a local merchant saying that he plans to give 20% off on wedding cakes to gay couples who decide to tie the knot. Is that cool or what?

I'm wondering what would happen to the resistance to marriage equality if all of us clergy who can do so worked with same sex couples to flood the country with the joy of weddings. Imagine if the newspapers were full of joyful families and couples celebrating their marriages regardless of whether or not they were "legal". Could anyone withstand all that joy?

See, I've always thought that Joy was going to be the deciding factor. Joy and Love...and Justice.

Proposal 2009 hits the boards

I was astonished to wake up yesterday morning and discover myself on the front page of the local newspaper, the South Whidbey Record. We are officially "outed" as a congregation now. Read all about it by clicking the "news" button at this webpage

Sorry I haven't been more active this week---we have been having rehearsals practically every day for our gig on Feb. 7 and, with everything else, there hasn't been any reflection time for blog posts.

The UUA connection with "Freedom to Marry" week has asked me to blog during that week of celebration, so I'm gestating a good post for them. But after today, I'll be less swamped.

Such a day...

I have done things today which I normally would never do. I have been sorting out some things in my mind, puzzling over a matter which has caused me a couple of sleepless nights of worry and wondering about how to handle a situation, and I was frustrated because no answers were forthcoming, despite prayer, despite journaling, the things that normally ease my mind.

The car had to go into the city today for its yearly maintenance at the Toyota dealer, so I was up early to make the ferry and looking forward to a day when I would have several hours in Seattle to do whatever I wanted, with a loaner car. On the ferry, my thoughts returned to the dilemma in my life, but I was sick of it so I picked up the book I always have in the car for ferry trips---Rachel Naomi Remen's "Kitchen Table Wisdom". (If you haven't read it, I recommend it.)

While reading one of the stories in the book, I literally felt pieces of my dilemma coming together into a coherent whole and before the boat docked, I felt I had received an answer. My heart lifted, I started thinking about what next step might be best, now that I had seen the problem more clearly and more deeply. This kind of solution rarely comes to me in this way. It was as though one of the stories mirrored my dilemma enough that I could see through it to what lay at the heart of my experience.

I had decided a week or so ago that I wanted to spend some of my day enjoying the "Lucy" exhibit at the Pacific Science Center, which I did. It was the same day and time as a rowdy bunch of high school kids were also viewing the exhibit, so it was a little tricky to manage any sort of quiet contemplation, but at one point I walked into an almost-empty room with a display case in the middle of it.

In that case lay the actual fossilized skeleton of this multi-million-year aged woman, Lucy, the oldest specimen of hominid yet discovered. As I gazed down at these ancient stone bones, I felt tears pricking my eyes, inexplicably, and a lump in my throat. I can't even tell you quite why I felt like crying, but as I handed in my audio-device to the young woman at the exit, I mentioned my emotional reaction, and she nodded sagely, "yes, one woman told me that she stood there and sobbed when she saw Lucy".

I got a bite of lunch and was heading back to the car. Near the Space Needle, an elderly man had a tamborine and a cup set out in front of him as he sang in a husky voice some old chant that sounded a little like a spiritual or a one line gospel song, "Lord, I'm so thankful, when I was lonely, you were my friend, when I was sick, you healed me, when I was broke, you comforted me" over and over, shaking the tamborine.

I put a $5 in his cup and sat down by him. I would never have done such a thing on another day, I suspect. But this day was different. I stayed with him for twenty minutes or so. He finished his song and then began to preach, encouraging me to say amen periodically, which I did. He talked about Jesus and how Jesus was so important to him. And again I felt the tears behind my eyelids. People walked by; we were both oblivious. After awhile I stood up to go and he said "sister, you have been a blessing to me today, and I thank you" and I said "Lionel Lewis (which he had said was his name), you have been a blessing to me today, and I thank you." And we hugged and I walked away.

It has been such a day...

Rosa Sat...so Martin Could Walk

Emma sent me this:

Dear World:

My friend Sue sent me this and gave me permission to send it on. I think it's great. I'm not sure if she wrote it or someone else did, but see what you think.

Dear World:

We, the United States of America, your top

quality supplier of ideals of democracy, would

like to apologize for our 2001-2008 interruption

in service. The technical fault that led to this

eight-year service outage has been located, and

the software responsible was replaced November

4, 2008. Early tests of the newly installed

program indicate that we are now operating

correctly, and we expect it to be fully

functional on January 20, 2009. We apologize for

any inconvenience caused by the outage. We look

forward to resuming full service and hope to

improve service in years to come. We thank you

for your patience and understanding.

Sincerely,

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Inauguration Celebration

It was a hot time in the old town last night but I wiped out early, not being that crazy about crowds and volume. Vicky, from my congregation, took this picture of Sara (also from UUCWI) and me at the big Freeland Hall inaugural ball. Thanks, Vicky!

What a Blessed Benediction!

I told you the benediction is more powerful than the invocation! Did you recognize the opening lines as being from what is termed the black national anthem, "Lift Every Voice and Sing"? (By the way, I thought Rev. Warren's invocation was just fine.)

Rev. Joseph Lowery, who co-founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with Martin Luther King Jr., delivered the benediction at the inaugural ceremony. Below is a transcription of his address, provided by CQ Transcriptwire:

LOWERY: God of our weary years, god of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our god, where we met thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.

Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.

We pay now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.

He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.

Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.

And while we have sown the seeds of greed -- the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.

With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around...

(LAUGHTER)

... when yellow will be mellow...

(LAUGHTER)

LOWERY: ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen.

LOWERY: Say Amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen.

LOWERY: And Amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen.

(APPLAUSE)

Okay, it's not a dream but...

I'm still glad I was all by myself watching the inauguration because I was bawling the whole time, to see this wondrous thing happening, to see the joy on all those faces, to hear those inspiring and uplifting words, to feel myself promise, along with everyone else I could see, that YES, I WILL HELP BRING THIS COUNTRY TO A NEW PLACE OF UNITY!

I believe.

Is it a dream?

Okay, okay, I'm about to turn off the rest of the world and go watch the inauguration on TV, all by myself, because I'm pretty sure this is all a dream and when I wake up I don't want to share my tears of disappointment with the rest of the world.

There's a streak of fear in me about this whole thing. I find myself living with an ineradicable sense of unreality, a fear of being disappointed once again by the reality, and wishing I could share the utter joy of the faces I see as the TV cameras scan the crowds.

Let me be clear----I am not afraid that Obama will be a bad president. In him I see an integrity that I have rarely seen in a political figure, even those I have admired. Like me and you, he is human and therefore can't be pure to the bone. Even though we are hoping he will be perfect, we know he can't be. And that's not the disappointment I fear. I'm sure he will make his share of mistakes; how else can he learn? I'm okay with that.

What I wish I could do is set aside my fears for him and his family and join in the spectacular celebrations of his inauguration as our 44th President.

I'm not sure where this comes from, though I suspect it harks back to the dark day in 1963 when we watched re-runs incessantly of JFK's assassination and heard the hooting laughter of his enemies and their children in our classrooms and on the streets.

I hear echoes of that laughter around me. I read it in the neo-Nazi blogs and comments that I run across; I see it in the hateful words of those who would condemn him or anyone who differs from their conservative agenda, whether that be civil rights, reproductive rights, labor rights, or other of the many issues this country has been polarized around. I even see it in the hypersensitive reactions of those who read insult into every move he makes that doesn't fit their agenda.

I'm not so afraid he'll be assassinated as I once was, seeing the massive security efforts which protect him and his family. I'm not expecting to be disappointed by President Obama's efforts to reunite the country.

I am expecting---and wishing I weren't---to be disappointed by those who refuse to be reunited, who want to hang onto their grudges, their anger, their raison d'etre in life. Don't they see the joy of others at the thrill of having elected such a man to the highest office in the land? Doesn't this affect their dour outlook at all? I am appalled by it in them----and in myself.

And yet I know that this is just part of living. We all have the right to dissent and to state our opinion. It is one of the many things about democracy that is messy, that is inevitable, that we all must cope with, in others---and in ourselves.

A little slice of UU history on the cover of The Nation

A Whidbey friend sent this link to those of us in the Peace and Justice network and when I looked at it, I saw several faces and names which are part of our Unitarian Universalist history. See if you can identify them by checking it out. I couldn't get the link installed properly, so I'm just posting the URL:
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20090202/key?rel=hp_currently

Pete Seeger at the inaugural concert

MLK and the Search for Truth and Meaning: a sermon

MLK AND THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH AND MEANING
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Jan. 18, 2009

You could easily have called it the "Winter of My Discontent". It was January of 1965 and I was living in Goldendale, WA, with my parents, serving as a welfare caseworker for Klickitat and Skamania Counties. I'd been transferred from the office in Stevenson, which is located in the Columbia River Gorge, and is the county seat of Skamania County, to the Klickitat county office in Goldendale.

My dad was the minister at the First Baptist Church of Goldendale and it was logical that I would move back in with my parents, who lived in the parsonage next door to the church. I'd lived in Stevenson alone the year prior to that, in my own apartment, and had had a taste of independence--and loneliness--in my first full year out of college. Now I was moving back to my parents' home and this became problematic, even as it helped with my economic bottom line.

The trouble was, I'd gotten a new perspective on the Christianity of my childhood, a perspective gained primarily from my education at liberal arts Linfield College. And the summer after graduation, I'd spent three months at the American Baptist Assembly grounds in Green Lake, Wisconsin, marinating in the heady liberalism that was beginning to take root in American Baptist theology.

It was not a living situation that boded well for me or for my poor parents, who were doubtless bewildered by my restlessness, my strange physical complaints of dizziness and weakness, my irritability and puzzling unhappiness. I was still a good girl, though, and dutifully attended church services, led the junior choir, and played the piano for hymn singing.

For the physical complaints, I went to my parents' doctor, old Doc Timmer, who advised me kindly to leave Goldendale and start creating my own life, or else I was likely to end up like the stereotypical spinster living at home and caring for her aging parents while slowly giving up her own life.

That recommendation was what caused me to sign up for an adult religious education class on the other side of the Simcoe mountains, in Yakima. It was late winter by then, and Satus Pass was no fun in the snow, but I drove back and forth to Yakima every Tuesday night for weeks, in search of something positive to feed my desire for a meaningful life away from Goldendale.

The last night of the course, we had a visiting minister from American Baptist headquarters, a young man who made my heart go pitty-pat with his charisma and good looks. And I have to admit that it was probably his charm that made me ask him about the programs he supervised nationwide, serving Baptist community centers in such farflung places as Detroit and Chicago and West Virginia, thousands of miles from Goldendale.

But when he told me that he thought I'd be a natural as a program worker in one of these centers, I fell in love and started the application process. I learned that the western-most center was located in Denver and, after interviews and visits, I was assigned to the Denver Christian Center in the inner city.

My rationale for requesting assignment to Denver was that I had to be near mountains, and even though the Rockies barely qualified in my mind as real mountains (since all real mountains are actually former volcanoes), Denver felt like a good fit.

When I reached Denver that fall of 1965 to begin my work as a youth and children's program worker at the Denver Christian Center, I found myself in an environment that was both familiar and unfamiliar. My work was with youth and small children, which I knew something about from my preacher's kid days. My colleagues were black and white and brown and yellow, in the vernacular of the day. Our clients, our families, mostly lived in the housing projects nearby and they too were the colors of the human rainbow.

Our neighborhood, on the corner of 29th and Curtis, was dilapidated, dirty, and scary at night, when many of our activities with youth took place. But I was thrilled to be there. I'd rarely lived in a large city before and was excited by its opportunities. I'd never eaten burritos or enchiladas, either, nor chitlins or barbecue. And I had never really seen poverty or racism in the ways I began to see it now.

The center director, the Rev. George Turner, had been to Selma that spring and had marched with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. They were friends; George talked about Martin, about his hope for black America, about his hope that white America would understand what it meant to be oppressed, that the powers of government could be bent toward justice, that civil rights for minorities would be assured.

I knew nothing of Unitarian Universalism in those days, aside from the fact that the women of First Unitarian Church in Denver supplied materials and goodies for my preschoolers. But I was learning a lot about social justice work, humanitarian work, and the responsibility of the religious community to fight for civil rights for others.

Writing long letters home to my family, sending photos of the children and teens, telling about my experiences in the inner city, I was ecstatic about the work we were doing and every day my eyes were opened wider to the challenges of being poor, of being trapped in substandard housing, of being treated with disdain and scorn because of race or gender or class.

As I look back at it, though, I realize that though my work was meaningful, it was not particularly activist. My missionary experience---and that's what my official title was, Home Missionary---did not include politics, did not include activism beyond the day to day acts of providing the services of the community center: a food bank, clothing closet, free optometric clinic, job referrals, after-school activities, a Head Start class, and a small church service on Sundays.

That may have been most appropriate for my role as a missionary, but it was true of much of my generation as well. We, those of us born in the years 1929 through 1945 according to sociologists studying generational differences, were tagged The Silent Generation.

Whatever the reasons for our silence---whether it was because of the patriarchal system we grew up in or the almost overwhelming establishment-mindedness of our parents or the frightening rebellion of our Baby Boomer children or siblings---we were observers of the cultural milieu we lived in, not activists who sought to change systems.

Of course, that changed for many of us as we grew older and realized that oppressive systems affected us all and once we got our dander up, we were more likely to participate in the political activism that has brought so much change in our culture.

But we needed leadership and role models and one of our most revered leaders became the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a so-called Silent Generation member himself, who was pressed into service as a leader of the civil rights movement because somebody had to do it, and he was there, in the South, when leadership was required.

That is often what happens to us, isn't it? Somebody has to do it. Somebody has to step in and say, "no more", say "let's try this", say "stop hitting that child, that woman, that man", say "I'll do it". We may prefer observing; we usually can't maintain that stance for long when circumstances require that we step forward.

So the good Rev. Dr. Martin provided that impetus, that model for many of us and I suspect that many of us here have been activists for many years because of his leadership, perhaps quietly, supporting causes with donations; perhaps vociferously, protesting injustices, standing up for freedoms.

Rev. King once wrote the following, which is one of the readings in our hymnal:
"We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. There are some things in our social system to which all of us ought to be maladjusted. Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear, only love can do that. We must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love…We shall hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope."

Though Dr. King is primarily remembered for his civil rights work in the South, he was not a one-issue leader, as history has shown us. "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," he said. He took on the Vietnam War, poverty, class, and labor issues. When he was assassinated, his wife and family took up his work.

I have been thinking about the several justice issues of our day. Racism, of course, is still an issue, though we have overcome enough of it to be witness to one of the most remarkable events in American history---the election of a biracial man named Barack Obama as our 44th president. We are not fooled, however---racism is still a threat and I pray for him daily, both for his safety and his integrity.

But we have become more sensitized to the many other civil rights abuses of our world as we have watched our former leaders misuse the United States constitution, declare pre-emptive war on Iraq, and respond in vengeance, aggression, and retaliation to the objections of even our own citizenry.

We see uneven taxation levels of our citizens, adding to the skewed imbalance of wealth among our citizens, and compounding the already-dreadful effects of poverty, poor education, and hopelessness.

We see racial profiling, that insidious product of fear, tribalism, and hate. We see gender discrimination and the continuing inequities between the roles of males and females in many workplaces.

We see violence toward children, women, and men, both at home and in our institutions, even our religious institutions.

We see laws that deny equal rights to certain groups---prisoners in our foreign prisons, the mentally ill, and sexual minorities, to name a few.

And I ask myself, what are we doing about any of these? What can we do? Well, I've had an idea and here it is. This idea is in addition to the many possible projects of the Social Responsibility Council and has been approved by our board as part of our Welcoming Congregation opportunities and responsibilities.

A few weeks ago, two of our newer folks stood up here at joys and concerns and announced their engagement. The smiles on their faces ignited smiles in our hearts as well, for their comfort in our midst and their joy at being together isn't always possible or welcomed in a religious setting. If we were a Southern Baptist church, we probably wouldn't have been so thrilled for them. If we were a Catholic parish, such an announcement might have been tantamount to thumbing one's nose at the Virgin Mary and the Pope.

But we are a Unitarian Universalist congregation and their love for each other thrilled us. This young couple has asked me if I will perform their wedding ceremony next summer and, of course, I agreed, with joy.

It won't be a civil marriage, in that they won't be going to the County Clerk to get a license. Instead, it is a marriage of two hearts, in the presence of friends and family members, which is what every successful marriage must be--a marriage of hearts as well as bodies, a marriage of friendship as well as romance, a marriage of commitment to one another during the good times and the hard times.

After our service that Sunday, I was struck by a thought. We have a great many same sex couples on this island, some of them having been together for many years. Some of them have traveled to far places to be legally married---Canada, New England, California. Some of them have traveled to places to be married and then had that legal relationship snatched away from them by voters' actions or court decisions.

After seeing this happen to two young friends in Portland a couple of years ago, I decided that someday I wanted to do something concrete to alleviate some of the pain caused by injustice toward sexual minorities. I had performed their wedding ceremony, had celebrated with them and their families, and had taken part in these festivities with great joy, because Portland and Corvallis had declared that civil marriage was a civil right.

And then, that right was unceremoniously taken away, creating unnecessary heartbreak and fear in my friends' hearts and in the hearts of all who had rejoiced with them.

Now, here in Washington our legislature has enacted domestic partnership laws that ensure some of the rights of marriage for same sex couples, but those laws are inadequate to supply all the rights and benefits of marriage, both in a legal sense and in a cultural sense.

Children in families where two women or two men are heads of households cannot say that their parents are married, cannot enjoy the security of knowing that they are part of a nice normal culturally accepted family. Their parents love them as fiercely as any heterosexual parents, yet children are sensitive to the slights of their peers over cultural differences and must figure out how to cope with those slights.

To offer something to counteract the fear and heartbreak inherent in injustice of all kinds, to offer something only we, as Unitarian Universalists, can offer from our position as a Welcoming Congregation in a faith tradition whose First Principle states that we affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, to offer as a gift to same sex couples on this island, I have asked the board of trustees to approve what I am calling Proposal 2009. And they have done so, helping me work out the appropriate details of this gift and committing themselves to the support of the gift.

Here's what we, the UU Congregation of Whidbey Island, will offer to same sex couples on this island, during the year 2009: the use of our sanctuary and my services as an officiant to celebrate their marriages of the heart in wedding ceremonies that acknowledge their commitment to one another, their relationship as a positive and healthy thing in their lives, and their children as beloved members of a beautiful family.

I will work with these couples as I do with all couples who wish to be married, helping them to create a ceremony that expresses for them their deep connections, their vows of love and loyalty, their sense of beauty and honor. Their wedding may be public or private; it may be small or large; it may be simple or fancy, casual or formal.

But it will be a real wedding. And I will give them a certificate which acknowledges the seriousness of their commitment, as well as a promise that when the time comes, as it inevitably will in our state and across the nation, when civil marriage is acknowledged as a civil right by our state, I will sign their civil marriage license with great joy.

This is our gift as a congregation and my gift as a UU minister to our neighbors here on Whidbey Island who do not yet have this important cultural right to civil marriage. This is a gift, meaning that we will not charge for the use of our sanctuary and my services. We hope that our modeling of this act of affirmation will encourage other congregations to take bold steps to welcome same sex couples into a place where their love is honored and respected and validated.

We are grounded theologically in this gift by our Unitarian Universalist principles which state, among other things, that we affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person and that in a democratic society such as our, all persons must have equal civil rights.

In addition, two years ago we committed ourselves as a congregation to acting in behalf of the gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and intersex community. As a Welcoming Congregation, we have a commitment to advocate and care for these friends, neighbors, and family members, whether or not they are members of this congregation.

I know that you may have questions and ideas about this gift. To give all a chance to discuss it with me, I invite you to be part of the regular conversation I normally have during the month we are examining each of our principles. That discussion would normally be at my home but instead we will have it here, in the sanctuary, to accommodate more folks than my little living room. We'll have some refreshments and some time to talk about what this may mean in our congregational life and in the life of the larger community.

I know some of you may be wondering what this has to do with honoring Martin Luther King Jr. I'd offer these words by Coretta Scott King in answer to your question:
For too long, our nation has tolerated the insidious form of discrimination against this group of Americans, who have worked as hard as any other group, paid their taxes like everyone else, and yet have been denied equal protection under the law...I believe that freedom and justice cannot be parceled out in pieces to suit political convenience. My husband, Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." On another occasion he said, "I have worked too long and hard against segregated public accommodations to end up segregating my moral concern. Justice is indivisible." Like Martin, I don't believe you can stand for freedom for one group of people and deny it to others.

So in the spirit of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King, let us joyfully offer our gifts as a congregation to our friends and neighbors on Whidbey Island, in hope that we can do something concrete to alleviate the pain of injustice.

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

BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering that our charge as human beings is to bring love and justice to each other and to the world beyond these doors. May we take this charge seriously, treating others as we would wish to be treated, loving the universe, the world we live in, and caring for it respectfully. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.