“To Be Determined!”
by Reverend Charles Blustein Ortman
May 20, 2007
READINGS:
Our first reading is from the 13th Century Persian Mystic poet, Rumi:
A learned man once said, for the sake of saying something, “There is a tree in India. If you eat the fruit of that tree, you’ll never grow old and never die.” Stories about “the tree” were passed around, and finally a king sent his envoy to India to look for it. People laughed at the man. They slapped him on the back and called out, “Sir, I know where your tree is, but it’s far in the jungle and you’ll need a ladder!” He kept traveling, following such directions and feeling foolish, for years.
He was about to return to the king when he met a wise man. “Great teacher, show me some kindness in this search for the tree.” “My son, this is not an actual tree, though it’s been called that. Sometimes it’s called a sun, sometimes an ocean, or a cloud. These words point to the wisdom that comes through a true human being, which may have many effects, the least of which is eternal life!
In the same way one person can be a father to you a son to someone else, uncle to another and nephew to yet another, so what are you looking for has many names, and one existence. Don’t search for one of the names. Move beyond any attachment to names.” Every war and every conflict between human beings has happened because of some disagreement about names. It’s such an unnecessary foolishness, because just beyond the arguing there’s a long table of companionship, set and waiting for us to sit down.
Our second reading is from Mary Oliver's book, "In Blackwater Woods:"
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends upon it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go
SERMON: “To Be Determined!”
A month ago, as I was writing my page for the Gazette and contemplating what my worship themes might be for this month, our minister of Religious Education Judy Tomlinson was still on sabbatical. She was slated to preach last week on Mother’s Day, but since she wasn’t back yet, and I didn’t know what her theme might be, I wrote on the template for Jaclyn Puleo, our office secretary – “To Be Determined.” Then I moved on to consider what might be my theme for this morning’s service. Hmmm, I thought, the Annual Meeting…What should be our theme for that day?
I wondered for a while and then happened to glance back at the space above that slot, “To Be Determined.” That about sums it up, I thought. There will be some important questions that the congregation puts before itself that morning. “To Be Determined” sounds just about right. Of course it could go in a number of directions. “To Be Determined” could mean to be intent, or willful or in control. It could mean to be resolute or resolved, to be concluded or even to be preordained. As this morning approached, I thought of some favorite lines we heard a few minutes ago that were written by poet Mary Oliver:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends upon it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
I know these words invite us to look at the big picture of life, at least that’s how they’ve always spoken to me – love your life dearly and determinedly so that when it comes time to die, we might do it with grace and gratitude. But I think Mary Oliver is talking about much more – much more than such a big picture as that. I think she’s talking about smaller pictures like the stages of our lives and maybe even the day to day stuff, too.
So there are three stories or scenarios that come to mind that I want to share this morning. These are stories about the balance between control and influence; about holding on for dear life to what matters and perhaps adapting our perceptions of what that might mean; they are stories about faith and about faithfulness.
The first story is one you might remember from the news about two weeks ago. A devastating tornado ripped through the small town of Greensburg, Kansas. It leveled just about everything standing, destroying nearly everything that was there, and killed nine people. Over the next several days, National Public Radio interviewed several survivors and some of the public officials who were responsible for the search and recovery efforts during the first few days and then the cleanup that was to follow.
In this age of what seems like unending stories of natural and human-made disasters, it’s a little too easy to become jaded and then fail to connect with the human stories that unfold in them. I don’t know why – maybe because I’m from the Midwest; maybe because I’ve experienced five tornados myself; maybe because the stories were just so compelling – I listened closely to the ones that were aired on the radio. The truth is that the tornado did not really destroy nearly everything that was there.
The most amazing interview for me was with Emma Faye Hargadine, an 80-year old survivor. At the time of the interview, Emma Faye was in her yard with her two sons. They were sifting through the rubble of her totally demolished home, looking for some meaningful items that had been lost. Among the lost items were two diamond rings, one that was over 100 years old and had belonged to her mother; the other was her engagement ring that her late husband had given her years before. She expressed her hope that they’d be found along with some of the other things. She also talked a bit about what it had been like to be in the storm, with more amazement in her voice than anything else.
The interviewer, Steve Inskeep, was rather astonished by her unquestionably upbeat responses to his questions. Finally, he asked, “How can you be so positive after losing your entire house and a lifetime of memories?”
“Oh,” she said. “During the storm I was scared to death. I prayed to God that, if I survived, I promised to do no whining. So here I am and I intend to keep that promise.”
And then something happened that happened in every one of the interviews that I heard coming out of Greensburg. It didn’t matter if the interview was with the Governor of the state, the mayor of the town or any of the other residents. Each one of the interviews ended in very much the same was as this one. Steve Inskeep said, “Mrs. Hargadine, thank you for taking the time to talk with us during such a moment as this. Good luck finding those rings.”
“Not at all,” she said. “Thank you for asking. Thank you for caring enough to be concerned.” Some of the folks added, “Thank all your listeners for keeping us in their prayers.” By the way, there was a follow up story a couple of days later and both rings were found!
There was much in Greensburg that was determined by the storm, but so much more that was left to be determined. There was so much that was not destroyed, but instead was polished by the winds of that storm. Experiences and expressions of awe and gratitude and service were in abundance. We are not in control of what happens, but we are in charge of our responses to those events. Our faith and our faithfulness call us to those responses.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends upon it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
The second story is not one that you’ll have seen or heard in the news. It’s about a friend and colleague of mine. Martin and I have gotten to know and appreciate each other well over the last few years. He wanted to get together to talk this week because, he said …his heart was just breaking. Turns out, he’s had a hell of a couple of weeks: the death of one cousin; the diagnosis of another of a brain tumor; then the death this past Friday of an uncle who was a cherished and dearly loved mentor. Having been through some similar experiences myself over the past few months – I couldn’t imagine compacting so much misfortune into a couple of weeks – Martin knew that I’d be sympathetic and understanding, which I was.
“But that’s not all,” he said after we’d been talking about his uncle for a while. “That’s not even the worst of it.” Just to give you some background, Martin is a 55-year old man, quite good looking and amazingly fit. He has been divorced for nearly ten years and has maintained a good working relationship with his ex-wife. Though they live a sizable distance apart, he is a devoted, dedicated and loving father to his three children. He had pretty much given up on the possibility of ever falling in love again. That is, he’d given up on it until just a few months ago. That’s when he fell, and fell hard – heart and soul and being – in love.
The short of it is that this past week, amidst the struggles and the grief of Martin’s extended family, he and his new love (who is also divorced with children) have come to a place where they will either choose to become serious about spending the rest of their lives together, or their relationship will necessarily come to an end. There are many details that we can’t know about why that is the case; it just is.
Martin is unable to eat or sleep. He’s cried a lot and prayed a lot too; he’s not doing so well at focusing on work. He’s left it for her to decide though, at least for the time being. He greatly wants the relationship to move forward and prays that that is what she wants as well. This all may sound insignificant, but I can assure you that, if it does, it might only be because you have never found yourself in such a predicament.
At the end of next week, he’ll be going on a trip. Either they will be going off together and stepping as one into their shared future, or he will be flying solo, to grieve and try to find a new vision for moving into his future, alone. In the meantime, he is giving her all the space and lack of interference possible. And he is trembling to the core of his being, not knowing if he awaits the lady or the tiger. Martin’s future is still to be determined.
I wonder how many here have had similar experiences, or ones close enough to it to know the kind of anguish that comes from allowing yourself to be so vulnerable, so open to the possibility of fulfillment that you are willing to risk your happiness and even your equilibrium for a time in the care of the one you love, even when you cannot know that your faith and love and caring will be returned. However uncomfortably, however miserably, Martin is waiting faithfully for the opportunity to go on loving.
We are not in control of what happens, but we are in charge of our responses to those events. Our faith and our faithfulness call us to those responses.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends upon it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
The third story comes one that is from our own congregation. It’s the story about the name by which we call ourselves, and it began years ago, well before my arrival. A particular chapter of this story, a chapter that began two or three years ago, will come to conclusion a little later this morning, when we take a vote on a proposed name change. By way of introduction, I’ll refer to the “From My Window” column, which I wrote for the Gazette issued in November of 2005, over a year and a half ago. The first part of the column described some struggles and their resolution that I had been a part of at a then recent meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Unitarian Universalist Association up in Boston, back in October, 2005. The column went on to speak to our story:
“A conversation has begun here at home, which may come to test our congregation in much the same way, regarding what to call ourselves. The question is about identity and tradition, as expressed in the name “Unitarian Church,” on one hand, and on the other identity and inclusion, as expressed in the consideration of something like “Unitarian Universalist Congregation.” This issue will not matter much to some of us, but considerably to others.
“Here’s what I think: (like the UUA Board of Trustees ) we too, are a community of good and reasonable people; we can have a challenging and good conversation, while remaining strongly engaged in our community; in the end not everyone will be totally happy. But I trust we can be satisfied enough with the process that we’ll be able to remain engaged in the larger picture, creating a spiritual and transformative community based on the ideals of love and justice, a community that is here to serve our world, our wider community, ourselves and those who have not yet found us but who are still looking.” (Slightly adapted)
I mentioned that this particular chapter of our story will come to a conclusion shortly at our Annual Meeting. And while this chapter ends, the story hardly does. The story I hope, even in its 110 year history, is still very early on in its unfolding. The story is part of an even larger story of this congregation and what it means: for the people who are here; for the community and the world around us; for those who have yet to find us and for whom we must help to find the way. The story is an ever growing one about why this congregation exists, about how it feeds and transforms us, and about how it/we might be agents of transformation in a world so desperately in need of transformation. It is a story about tradition and identity based in the promise of continuous revelation and in a faith in the unity of all things.
In this most recent chapter of the story the themes of vitality, development and growth have come into focus and have begun to show themselves in a number of ways. The name by which we call ourselves is one, but there are others: the way we treat and care for one another; the ways in which that caring is expressed in our worship and in other venues; even the expression of the décor in this, our most sacred space. These are all indicators of our vitality and vitality is the result of a willingness to be engaged with the ever-changing, ever ebbing and flowing stream of life. This is an exciting, precious moment to be a part of this congregation.
Nobody really knows how to grow. Have you ever thought of that? We can’t decide to grow, in our personal lives or otherwise. Growing either happens as a result of natural processes or it is a course that is chosen and then nurtured by adjustments that are made to accommodate and encourage growth. We can be determined to try to grow but growth, itself is one of those things that are simply…to be determined. Lord knows, personally or otherwise, it’s no easy process. While we cannot control what happens, we can influence what happens by the choices and actions we make. While we cannot control what happens, we are in charge of our responses to those events. And in the end we have to let go and perhaps pray that the outcome might be grace-filled and embracing of love and life.
Here’s the thing, for today and everyday – in the end it does not matter what we choose, as long as our choice comes out of a faithful response to our call to be in faithful community together, striving to achieve our mission to transform our hearts, our homes, our community and our world. Here’s what I want you to know today and everyday – I don’t believe there is a single person here, or a single member of this congregation, whose feelings about this community and the choices it faces, no matter how passionately they might be felt, are in anyway motivated by anything short of love for this institution, for what it stands for, and for what it’s potential might be. We are here in covenant to be our best selves and to promote the best in our world around us.
The votes that will be taken in a little while are not about what’s right or what’s wrong. They are about visions, potential visions, for how this community may see itself doing the very best it can to achieve our aims. No vote, I’m sure, will be cast in animosity and no tally of votes, I pray, will be received in bitterness. To paraphrase the poet Rumi, just beyond the voting there’s a long table of companionship, set and waiting for us to sit down. For indeed as the Father of Universalism Hosea Ballou would say, “We do not need to think alike in order to love alike.”
I think of the folks in Greensburg, Kansas, whose lives were empowered by the clarity of their priorities that shown so brightly following the storm. I think of my friend Martin, who in faith has given his heart away, and who waits in faithfulness to find if that gift has been accepted. I think of us who are here, so rich in our blessings and so eager to cross the threshold into who we are becoming as a religious community.
The opportunities that lie before us are endless. We have unlimited opportunity to stand together in awe, to raise our voices together in gratitude, and to work together in service. We have unlimited opportunity to be vulnerable with one another and to care for that vulnerability. We have unlimited opportunity to grow our souls here. We have unlimited opportunity to remain engaged in the larger picture, creating a spiritual and transformative community based on the ideals of love and justice, a community that is here to serve our world, our wider community, ourselves and those who have not yet found us but who are still looking.
On this day and on every day, there is so much yet to be determined. So that we may be as ready as we might to respond to respond in faithfulness to that calling, may we keep the faith, and help one another to remember that:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends upon it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
May it be so.
|
