"To the Larger Good"
A sermon by Rev. Charles Blustein Ortman
March 15, 2009
READINGS ANCIENT AND MODERN:
Our ancient reading this morning is only as ancient as the
13th Century. It is a poem by the Sufi mystic poet Rumi, who was
born in the region known today as Afghanistan:
"One went to the door of the Beloved and
knocked. A voice asked, 'Who is there?'
He answered, 'It is I.'
The voice said, 'There is no room for Me and Thee.'
The door was shut.
After a year of solitude and deprivation he returned and knocked.
A voice from within asked, 'Who is there?'
The man said, 'It is Thee.'
The door was opened for him."
Our modern reading is from a description of the earth from space
by US space shuttle astronaut, Charles Walker:
My first view - a panorama of brilliant deep blue ocean shot with
shades of green and gray and white - was of atolls and clouds. Close
to the window I could see that this Pacific scene in motion was
rimmed by the great curved limb of the Earth. It had a thin halo
of blue held close, and beyond, black space. I held my breath, but
something was missing - I felt strangely unfulfilled. Here was a
tremendous visual spectacle, but viewed in silence. There was no
grand musical accompaniment: no triumphant, inspired sonata or symphony.
Each one of us must write the music of this sphere for ourselves.
SERMON:
I always make up my sermon titles for each month, in time for
the Gazette due date of the previous month. You may have noticed
that I'm not very big on writing up little synopses that can go
in as a blurb, kind of like a plug for the service. My thinking
is that our worship is public worship. It's a time for our community
to draw together and figure out what it means to be religiously
intentional - spiritually and soulfully accountable for our lives
- in relation to whatever the issue of the subject might be on any
given week. My hope and my faith, and perhaps my fantasy, is that
the topics I choose are relevant - to my life and by extension to
yours. I always say that I never preach a sermon that I don't need
to hear myself.
So by the middle of each month, I come up with the following month's
themes. Quite often the titles are purposefully vague because at
the time I think of them, I don't have a clue where they might take
me, take us. As the respective week approaches, the themes tend
to become more and more a part of my conscious thought process.
Then, during the week immediately prior to their delivery, they
tend to be a pretty constant companion; I see applications and implications
everywhere and in everything. What I've been seeing all around me
for several weeks now are the results of the fallen markets in the
deep recession that we have sunken into.
My inspiration for this morning's message though, began just over
a month ago, though. My wife Judy and I had just returned from a
trip to Iowa where we had visited our son, Will, and the love his
life, Carissa. We had a wonderful time together with them. It was
great. There was really only one, somewhat uncomfortable moment.
And the discomfort, I'm happy to say, was primarily only Will's.
We'd been talking about the connections and interests that they'd
found in the community of Des Moines, where they live. Eventually,
I am a minister after all, I had to ask, "So, have you checked
out the UU congregation here in town?" I wasn't really prepared
for Will's answer, but I wasn't surprised by it either.
He told us that they'd gone to a few different churches and that
they had a found one that they felt comfortable in. "And it
was not a Unitarian Universalist congregation," he said. "I
need something that I don't find in a UU church. I don't mean any
disrespect, Dad, but I'm more comfortable and feel like I get more
of what I need with this UCC (United Church of Christ) congregation."
I assured him that I was glad that they had found a religious community
all together. I was glad that he'd even experienced the desire to
be involved religiously and that he'd recognized a place and a community
that provided answers for his questions. When I was his age, which
is 28, besides being the year he was born, it was the year I first
discovered Unitarian Universalism.
I did not know before being invited to the wedding of Herb and
Bernice Hill at the UU Congregation in little Stockton, IL, that
Unitarian Universalism even existed. I did not know before then
how deeply I needed and wanted to be a part of an intentional, spiritual
and soulful, committed community. I did not know that such a community
existed that would not require me to translate its language from
dogma and doctrinal theology in order for me to discern meaning
in and from and for my own life and experience.
I did not know that there was a religion that fit me - that I fit
- until I walked through that door for that wedding. I was so grateful
for that experience. And I am grateful that my son could have a
similar experience. It does not matter if it isn't in the same place
where I was able to make those connections.
I came to Unitarian Universalism because it is the only religion
in which I feel that my spiritual journey - through the terrain
of this human experience - can be explored, expressed and renewed
without compromising my integrity or the core beliefs I hold about
life, my life, about this planet, and about how we and it are all
related with one another. I suspect that Will and Carissa have experienced
a similar integrity, a similar matching of their religious sensibilities
with the community they have discovered. I suspect that's just as
true for many people in many different communities.
I have to imagine that there are so many different religions in
this world because there is no one path that is the right path for
everyone. We each have our own journey that is born of our own experiences
and our responses to them. To enjoy the benefits of religious community,
we need to be with others, kindred spirits who experience their
path at least similarly to the way we do ours. There are many paths,
many experiences of the holy, of the mystery that brought and holds
us here. It does not suit my sensibilities, as I expect it does
not suit yours, to have that experience defined for me. I, as minister,
am certainly not here to define it for you. To assist you in encountering
it? Perhaps. To help you anticipate your responses to it? Perhaps.
To be with you as you struggle with it? Perhaps. To define it? No.
In our liberal religious tradition, that's your job. But in other
traditions, there are other ways.
Many times I hear the comment, especially from lay folks in my
work with interfaith groups who say, "Well, we might all have
different names for it, but really we all believe in the same God."
I often smile and nod when that is said. But if my understanding
of God is really acceptable to the others in that conversation,
then maybe we do all believe in something of the same God. If I'm
going to name that God though, from my experience and perspective,
it is the Larger Good. And if that God has a middle name, it is
the Larger Love.
You can call it what you want, what you must: God, not God; Goddess,
Gaia, Mother Nature, Spirit of Life, All-That Is; that transcending
mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to
a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create
and uphold life. (From the Sources of the Living Tradition.) Call
it whatever we might, experience it as we will, our acquaintance
with, our experience of the mystery that brought and holds us here
is our entrée to what I'm calling the Larger Good. Call it
whatever you like, our liberal religious nature compels us not to
be overly sure of ourselves in our naming.
20th-Century British philosopher Bertrand Russell said: "The
essence of the Liberal outlook lies not in what opinions are held,
but in how they are held: instead of being held dogmatically, they
are held tentatively, and with a consciousness that new evidence
may at any moment lead to their abandonment." But even, as
Russell predicts they might, if our experiences cause us to abandon
what we once believed, it surely must be because our experience
is informing us of even larger truths, of even larger good.
It does not matter where, in what community we find truth and good.
It does matter that we are in community, where our authentic experience
is affirmed, where we are challenged to grow our souls. It does
matter that we are in community where we can walk and work with
others in the task of loving, affirming and healing: ourselves,
each other and our world.
So here's the deal. We are still in the very beginning stages of
one of, what may turn out to be, the most difficult economic passages
this country, perhaps the world, will have experienced in modern
history. We might well note that a major cause of this economic
disaster has been the result of our culture turning away from, turning
its back on the larger good and embracing instead ideals of insulation,
isolation and greed. This time now needs to be a season of mending
our ways, and of turning towards loftier more meaningful, more sustainable
values.
Even still, tough times are here and tougher times are coming.
People are losing their jobs, their homes, their savings and their
security. On top of all that, we each have the many life issues
and challenges to contend with that we had before all of this economic
freefall began. We may be dealing with illness, or broken homes,
broken marriages, broken hearts. We may be dealing with addictions
or mental health issues. We may be grieving the loss of a loved
one or even the loss of a dream or an ideal.
The thing is though, however difficult things might get, we are
called by our ideas of God, called by the largest good we can imagine,
to be grateful for what we do have. And then called in the service
of that larger good, however changing and evolving our ideas of
good might be. The thing is, we are served ourselves, we are held
ourselves, when we are in the service of the larger good. When we
are holding to the ideals of the larger good, we are being held.
There are going to be difficult days ahead. You might remember,
when you find yourself in them, that your minister told you there'd
be days like this. But remember that I told you this too: you will
get through them. We will get through them.
We are a part of something much larger than ourselves. And a characteristic
of that largeness is goodness. If we dare to hold on to it, it will
indeed hold us. It is a matter of faith. It is a matter of intention,
of spiritual pilgrimage and soulful growth.
One of my favorite contemporary theologians, Frederick Buechner,
wrote: "Religion points to that area of human experience where
in one way or another, we encounter mystery as a summons to pilgrimage.
Our vocation or our calling is that place where our deep passions
and gifts touch the world's greatest needs."
We might well note that even here in this congregation, while we
have covenanted to stand and move together as a religious community,
it doesn't mean that we all share the same symbolic or metaphoric
representations of our theologies. We too have differences, as well
as commonalities in our religious sensibilities. I began by talking
about my son and the religious community that he and his girlfriend
found out in Des Moines, a community that offers them access to
the same kind of ideals we are talking about here. There is no need
for arrogance in thinking that ours is the one authentic religious
way. There is good reason though, if it is true, to recognize that
it is our way - the way that works for us and that will continue
to work for us in the time to come.
Our summons to the larger good, that meeting place of our deepest
passions and the world's greatest needs, calls us beyond ourselves
to that which is good in all of us, whoever we are, however we worship.
To get through the difficult times we are in, to get through the
more difficult times that are coming, we would do well to allow
ourselves, perhaps even to push ourselves toward the larger good
that holds us all.
Our world does not need and can ill afford religious claims to
proprietary access to the truth, or superiority or to exclusive
claims to salvation. What our world desperately needs is bridges,
individuals and groups who will put an end to distances that divide
humanity and hinder access to truth, dignity and human development.
The world needs this religious community and all other religious
communities that are models of community, to convince it that it
- that we - are all part of the larger good.
The world needs religious communities in which its members can
help one another to discover that the loss of privilege, the loss
of wealth, even the loss of property is not death. It is not the
death of one's self, nor of one's loved one. Loss is difficult;
it always comes with grief. But grief comes with the possibility
of healing. And we recognize that healing comes, once we have accepted
our loss and have renewed our efforts in reaching out towards and
in serving the larger good. In the weeks, months and even years
to come, we will be well served by remembering and helping one another
to remember the larger purposes that have brought us together here.
There is a knock at the door. How will we answer it? Will we say,
you must be like me for me to see you? Will we be paralyzed by insulation
and isolation, confounded by our greed? Will we answer it at all?
There is a knock at the door. Can we hear and heed the call to
answer it? Can we make our way to the door, carrying with us all
our losses and pains, fears, and anxieties? Can we open the door
recognizing in the other, through whatever differences there might
be, that which holds us together? Can we recognize that I and thou
are one? Can we open the door to the larger good? And in so doing,
can we come to experience that we too are held as a part of that
goodness - secure, blessed, and ready to take the next step in whatever
adventure life holds in store for us?
God help us, and may it be so.
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