I didn’t say anything, but my hunch was that ministers were nice people, intrigued by thoughts, many of which go beyond (or at least outside of) the interest of normal people. I had this fantasy then that I was normal. That fantasy has since been dispelled, but I’m here to tell you that, while ministers may not be normal, neither are you. And ministers don’t really stray any further, nor nearer afield than anyone else. Still, I have to admit that my topic this morning, Homeostasis, does seem, on its face anyway, to be "out there" just a bit; maybe a tad esoteric. I’ll hope it’s not though, because for me, the biological model of homeostasis provides a meaningful and clear metaphor for the cosmos, for the Spirit of Life.

I was first introduced to the idea of homeostasis in a graduate Social Work course. The professor presented it as his spin on social systems theory. Not only do people and institutions function within a network of systems, he posed, but they do so toward a particular end. That end is continuity or continuation, or — more simply put — to maintain balance for the purpose of survival.

It made good sense, but I wasn’t particularly impressed by either the professor or his idea. Then, years later when I was in seminary studying theological models, the idea of homeostasis hit me like a ton of bricks, like a bolt of lightening. You might even say I had a divine revelation.

Before I go any further though, I should probably answer a question that may be on your mind at this moment, "What exactly is homeostasis?" I can assure you — it is an often misunderstood concept.

Homeostasis is derived from Greek roots: homeo, meaning like or similar; stasis, meaning a state of standing. Webster’s Unabridged says that it is, "the tendency of a system…to maintain internal stability." Biologists define it as, "the ability of living things to maintain their internal environment within the narrow limits compatible with life." Science tells us that life does what life must do, to adapt and adjust to occurrences, both internal and external. Life may not always be successful in this endeavor, but it will always try.

According to scientist/theologian John Cobb, homeostasis occurs on every level of the universe — from the micro universe to the macro universe, from the minute atom to the vast cosmos. Adaptive behavior for the purpose of survival is always present. Always present!

Think of the theological ramifications of such a process. There is existent throughout the universe the will to be, the will to live. It’s not something that’s just happening. It wants to happen. Throughout the universe there is a compulsion, a need, a longing for continuity, for continuation, for being. This yearning is manifested through adaptation, adjustment, and finally through transformation or evolution.

The process of homeostasis is not static; it’s not about staying the same. That’s the common misconception. No, it’s about a process of change, and development. It’s about striving for balance. It’s about becoming.

So, it’s not such a large step from this scientific observation to a theological quandary. Why does homeostasis occur? What is the cause of homeostasis? Is it God, Adonoi; or the Christ-spirit? Is it Allah, or Buddha, or Brahman, or the Tao? Is it Tillich’s, "Ground of being," Buber’s, "I and Thou," or Henry Nelson Wieman’s, "Creative interchange?" Is it simply nature? Or is it the Spirit of Life? Or the Spirit of Love?

These are all attempts to name this primal cause, to name the unnamable. None of them fully capture its spirit, but all of them provide an inkling. Perhaps one day science will reveal this source; I doubt it though, and in the meantime, we live in the mysterious presence of an undeniable want-to-be. It encourages us to adapt and adjust It encourages us to change and to be transformed, to be in synch. It encourages us to live.

This want-to-be gives us evidence that — in the grandest scheme of things — our lives are an integral manifestation of a universal legacy. It offers us cause for faith that we are not alone on our journeys, but joined in spirit with a force that has ever moved forward through the ages; a force that gives cause for hope that being will continue to move through ages yet to come.

James Baldwin wrote: "For nothing is fixed, forever and forever …it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have."

Homeostasis is not so esoteric; it’s the nitty-gritty. It operates within every cell of our bodies, within every organ. It is a part of every breath we take. It predicts that life will be. It does not necessarily however, predict how life will be. As for our own lives, about that, we have some choices.

We can choose to align ourselves with this most progressive process. We can choose to place ourselves above or below it. Or, as I think is most often the case, we can choose to attempt to determine our place within the flow, so that it might best serve us, and we might best serve it.

Sometimes it’s easy to know when you’re in the flow; sometimes it’s not. And that, I think, is why we have our religious communities. That’s why, I think, so many of us are part of this particular faith community. We feel there are no pat answers to life, and yet still we need to find our place within the flow. So we come here, to be with others seeking to intentionally and responsibly adapt and adjust. We come here, to be with others, seeking to be transformed.

Any worthwhile theological model should have practicle applications. We can always determine what we believe by observing what we do. And so, by way of illustration, I’d like to relate this theological model of homeostasis to couple of matters of some importance to this congregation today. Maybe the model can help us to recognize our place within the flow of things. I don’t expect that you will take what I’m about to say as a pat answer, describing the truth. I do hope you will take it as my best effort to relate the truth as I see it.

As I trust you are well aware, our annual, Every Member Canvas, is underway. There is no canvas sermon this year. We’ve chosen instead to end our canvas with a celebratory Commitment Sunday Service, next month. Still, I’d ask you to consider the financial pledge you’ve recently or are about to make within the context of homeostasis.

What are the internal and external occurrences to which this congregation must adapt and adjust if we are to continue to promote balance through transformation, continuity and growth?

For starters, our church is larger than it has ever been. There are more of us here looking to experience both the ultimate and the intimate. There are more of us than ever who also need to find or affirm a grand and guiding vision, and who need to know and experience the connections of community. As a part of our effort to address these needs we have more staff than ever before, more maintenance to our buildings. Our expenses are higher than they’ve ever been. These are all quite encouraging signs of a healthy congregational life. But still they are occurrences that require our response.

In the realms of outside occurrences, we are experiencing a downturn in the economy that has taken things south in a hurry. But Kahlil Gibran reminds us, "It is when you give of yourself that you truly give." It will be harder to give this year than it was last year. If we are going to further the life force of our religious home though, we’re going to have to give even more now than we did then.

Our canvass is about adapting and changing in order to promote transformation. What we give to our church, we are giving to our lives — our collective lives. And so I’d encourage you to give a lot — a whole lot. If your household is financially straining to meet its demands, don’t give more than you can; give responsibly. If you’re not financially strapped though, in meeting life’s demands at home, remember — we are straining here in your church home. So I say, give a lot. If there’s no comma in the figure you pledge to the church, put one there. If they’re already is a comma, why not raise the number in front of it by one, or even more than one. Go ahead and give a lot; the money won’t be wasted.

The impulse for life, for the spirit of life, is alive and well here in our congregation. We can choose to align ourselves with it, or to deny ourselves, or just to do our very best in finding our place in this flow and responding together, responding graciously.

The other matter I want to raise as an illustration is one that I hope is as much a cause for celebration for you as it is for me. In just a few minutes we will convene a congregational meeting in which we will vote on a proposal to call Judy Tomlinson as our minister of religious education. We have been evolving, as a congregation, toward this moment quite a long time. I’m not saying this is the only reasonable response to the phenomenal growth in our Religious Education Program. I am saying though, that to me, this is the most reasonable response.

Having a Minister of Religious Education places this, our original and largest program, most squarely within the context of our shared ministry here at the Unitarian Church. Calling Judy Tomlinson as the individual to fill this position, recognizes and honors her years of preparation, her vast expertise, and her enthusiastic spirit for the work. Calling Judy is a congregational experience of reaching out for excellence, finding it embodied in her and in her work, and naming and blessing her as our minister of learning. It is a congregational act of adaptation and change, an act of growth and transformation, and of moving forward in the stream of our congregational life.

I raise these two matters, the canvas and the call, not as objects of this sermon, but as important and timely community applications of a timeless universal theme. Each of us can look to our own lives and to the world around us for applications of this irresistible want-to-be. And we can each call it by its name, the one that beckons us.

From before the beginning of time there was an impulse to be. You and I, every man, woman and child, the entire earth, and all the cosmos are the current manifestations of this yearning. We are at home here in this universe.

There is an inexplicable cause for a process that holds us here, that urges us to adapt and to adjust, to be transformed and to grow. There is an inexplicable cause for a process that urges us to live, and to live fully. The universe expects nothing less of us than excellence. What will be our life’s response?

Poet, Denise Levertov asks, "An awe so quiet I don’t know when it began. A gratitude had begun to sing in me. Was there some moment dividing song from no song?"

Poet/theologian, Richard Jeffries answers, "It is eternity now. I am in the midst of it."

So then, let us live fully within the universal eternity of each moment.

When our hearts cry out in pain, let us be held and comforted by the spirit that moves us forward.

When our conscience seeks to offer or request forgiveness, let us be guided by the spirit that aspires to the future, even more than it remembers the past.

When we are in a quandary about what to do, or which way to turn, may we be directed by that which yearns for us to move on.

And when our hearts are filled with joy, may we sing in the grateful chorus with the legions of choirs universal; that have and always will sing in common gratitude for being.

Since we have been given the very best that life has to offer, may we give back to life the very best we have in return.

Our First Reading is from James Baldwin:

For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it

is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is

always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down

rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are

responsible to them because we are the only witnesses

they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each

other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to

hold each other, the moment we break faith with one

another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.

The Second Reading is from the book, The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran:

Then said a rich man, "Speak to us of Giving."

And he answered:

"You give but little when you give of your possessions.

It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?

And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?

And what is fear of need but need it-self?

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?"