Nightmares and Dreams a World Away

I was halfway around the world when tragedy struck my fellow UUs in Tennessee. On my second day of a 9 day Interfaith Dialogue tour of Turkey, I stumbled into my hotel room in the Aegean port of Izmir and scanned the TV channels for something in English, jet lagged after nearly 24 hours travel, a brief night's rest, and 16 more hours of a packed itinerary that had just begun. I was drifting into that dazed travel slumber when I heard the two top stories on the BBC: first, a bombing in Istanbul, the city I'd left that morning and would return to for the last three days of my tour, had killed 13 and injured 150 others. Since this terrorist attack followed another the week before I left, I was trying to integrate my alarm when the second item was announced: A church shooting in the United States has left one dead and at least 8 seriously wounded..... then these words: a Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee was attacked by a gunman. It was midnight in Turkey, just late afternoon here in Kentucky. The details were sketchy. We had to be up at 6AM for another flight to Antalya. There was really no one I could reasonably talk to. I trembled and prayed until I fell asleep.

I have heard that the real source of what we call "jetlag" is that the body has traveled through space so quickly that it takes a while for the soul to catch up. It sounds a little new-agey, but it does suit the feeling one has, of being so disoriented and detached that everything seems like a dream. The next morning I could not remember whether I had really heard this news, or had merely dreamed it (no.. I wasn't drinking! Our tour was led by and sponsored by observant Muslims!) until I spoke with a UU colleague, also on the tour, who by then had heard the news, too. Beyond creating disruption and delay for the rest of the group, there was indeed almost nothing he or I could do for several days to contact, reassure or comfort our congregations. Since we are in the neighboring state of Kentucky, and since we represent the only two full time called clergy there, a gap was left. Would our own folks be okay with us so far away? It wasn't a good feeling, and throughout the remainder of the trip, I shed lonely tears for my beloved UU family.

I need not have worried about their ability to handle this tragedy. Our colleagues Todd Ekloff, Gary Bennett, Kelly Flood, and Esther Hurlburt, as well as my amazing DRE Stacey Stone, were in Kentucky and rose to the occasion with an alacrity and clarity that even today leaves me humbled with gratitude. There were candlelight vigils led by clergy at all of the UU congregations in Kentucky on Monday evening, and even, on the following Sunday, at the newly forming UU Community of Frankfort in our state capitol. There is nothing I could or would have said that these colleagues did not say. With grace and eloquence, they showed what the best of Unitarian Universalism really is. It is courage, clarity, compassion, and love. It really is an astounding beautiful way of being in the world. It is the same passion and fortitude that galvanized Greg McKendry and all of the TVUUC members who saved countless lives. Something called them and they went toward danger rather than run away or cower. We are blessed beyond measure.

In the ebb and flow of church life, we forget this. It is as if we are so far from our roots of love and tenderness that we are like jet lagged dreamers, stumbling around and reacting rather than responding. We need to reunite our souls and our bodies. That day I had visited Ephesus, one of the greatest sites of Greek and Roman ruins, replete with the visions of paganism, Christianity and Islam for nobility, truth, and justice. There are a lot of earthquakes in Turkey, and precious things have been destroyed and rebuilt many times. Still, some of its greatest monuments have withstood even nature's terror. What struck me above all was the determination humans have to rebuild: our faith, our communities, our covenants.... the faith and the optimism to keep standing up for peace no matter what. I really do believe, as humans have believed for eons, that this beautiful dream can be realized on earth, and that nightmares can end. But we must each stand up when we are called.

Behold... a New Blog Post!

Fourth of July Homily to be delivered at Interfaith Faith & Freedom Shabbat at Temple Adath Israel:

FREEDOM’S NOT “FREE”

Faith & freedom homily July 4,2008


Not long ago, I watched a film called Aviator, about the life of Howard Hughes. I had always known how enigmatic, eccentric and…filthy rich he was, but I never realized how incredibly innovative he was as well. Sadly, his intelligence and creativity gave way gradually to his mental illness, an undiagnosed and untreated form of OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. His later life can only be described as tragic.

In some ways, we are like Howard Hughes. No, we don’t woo movie stars and we wonder how we can afford a tank of gas when he could have afforded a refinery! But like him, we have both the capacity for brilliance and courage alongside the human tendency toward ennui and passivity.

But what does this have to do with Fourth of July, or with our purpose in coming together.. a celebration of freedom and of faith?

It’s simple: what we think about when we contemplate Independence Day are these things: Liberty; patriotism; America; and Freedom. And what we, who call ourselves people of faith, must do together is to ask ourselves what our responsibilities are on this day and in these matters.

It is as if, for the last, say, eight years, we have been living in a dream – a bad dream, the kind of dream in which you try but fail to get somewhere or find something, or say something, or call for help. Your efforts are thwarted again and again. You feel helpless and hopeless, and wake up in a cold sweat.

It is as if we have suffered, these past years, from a vast mental “illness” of sorts, that has distorted our vision; dulled our reason; and eviscerated our courage. It is as if all of us, progressive and conservative alike, have been duped, divided, deceived, and deluded. HH was the quintessential American entrepreneur, the epitome of the American spirit. But he succumbed to something seemingly bigger and more demonic than he could manage: mental illness.

It’s no wonder some have resorted to cynicism and despair. We all know people who, like the very innovative George Carlin, say that there really is no hope. We know now that George Carlin, and Howard Hughes for that matter, were also victims of drug addiction. But their cases are different from ours only in degree, not in design. We too dull our senses of being disconnected and disenfranchised, if not with drugs then with TV, Internet, food, and things.

There is a sense in which, like the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, would cry: What has been is what shall be. What has gone on is what shall go on. And there is nothing new under the sun. But, PT reminds us, the answer to Preacher is also in the text. He points to Isaiah: Thus says the Lord/ who made a way through the sea/ A path through the mighty waters/ Remember not the former things/ Neither consider the things of old/ Behold, I am doing a new thing/ Even now it is springing to light/ Do you not perceive it? (43:16, 18-18) I am doing a new thing.

Howard Hughes, after months, years, of giving into his illusions and obsessions, pulls himself out of his self-imposed exile, cleans himself up, and makes an appearance at a Senate hearing in order to defend his reputation. One can see, in the film, the extraordinary courage and will it requires for him to do this. Experts in the disease say that had it been 20 or 30 years later, medication as well as self-discipline techniques could have given Hughes the resources to manage his illness and live free of his agony.

To me, this was the most poignant part of the story, and I believe that it is a poignant part of our story as well. Some of us have tried and tried in numerous ways to respond, to resist, even to revolt against what we see as 8 years of infringement upon democracy, upon freedom, and upon collective well-being. We have picketed, prayed, fasted, and festivalled. We have sat through hours of lectures and panel discussions and read mountains of editorials, if only to reassure ourselves that we are not alone in our sense of alarm and deep chagrin. For certain, some of us have been more persistent and focused than others. The numbers of those who have resorted to resignation, indifference, or distraction have not been small.

But those of us who consider ourselves part of the faith community must remember this: it is our obligation to both endeavor and to hope. We are obligated by our covenants and our promises to believe that the possibility of something new, something even beyond our control, may present itself at any moment. There is no legitimate faith that does not contain a core of renewal, reconciliation, revival, or rebirth. No one articulates this more clearly than the theologian Paul Tillich:
The new being is born in us, just when we least believe in it. It appears in remote corners of our souls which we have neglected… It shows a way where there was no way before… The birth of the new is just as surprising in history. It may appear in some dark corner of our world. It may appear in a social group where it was least expected. It may appear in the depth of a national catastrophe… The new in history always comes when people least believe in it. .. when no way out is seen. The first thing about the new is that we cannot force it and cannot calculate it. All we can do is be ready for it.

All we can do is be ready for it. That does not diminish our responsibility to act. But it does underscore that our faith requires more than action. It requires contemplation, discipline, and commitment. That is the way in which we, as members of covenanted communities of faith as well as of interfaith movements, can best be ready when the Eternal says, Behold, I am doing a new thing.

Then we will know what to do. We must be ready; and we must do a new thing, as well.We see these glimmers of the new in such unexpected places. For example, the hundreds of Facebook youth who have all changed their middle names to Hussein in support of Barack Obama. Not unlike the non-Jewish citizens of Bozeman, MT, who in 1993 lit menorahs in their windows all over town to support marginalized Jews, these young people are a source of hope and a light. They are reminding us of how we can respond creatively and courageously. Behold, they are doing a new thing.

Tillich: The saving power of the new is the power of the Eternal (which T. says is love).. It remains new so long as the Eternal shines through it. Love is the power of the new within every (person) and in all history. It is working even today toward a new creation.

May it be so. Amen.

Better Never Than Late?

One hesitates to even whisper the name Jeremiah Wright now that it has become a faint echo from, lo, a whole week ago. I'm sure most folk in the Obama camp hope they never hear it again.



But the story of Rev. Wright and his famous congregant have not ceased to echo in my mind and to trouble my heart.



Call me touchy-feely or wishy-washy, but I make a lot of my decisions based upon intuitive reasoning. Much of what I understand about the Universe and the people in it is communicated to me not through words or formulas or prooftexts but in visual language, through sound and feel and maybe even something less quantifiable than that. Since most ministers, I am told, are "NF" on the Myers-Briggs scale, they ought to understand. This way of "knowing" the world has grown even more dominant for me as I get older. Is that what they call wisdom? Maybe... I know that sometimes, I AM wrong!



So, what I am about to say is what I have gleaned from those intuitive sources above, filtered through a week or more of contemplation and rumination. I agree with Boyce Watkins (http://www.boycewatkins.com/) that the real tragedy here is that a Black man and his pastor and friend of 20 years have been forced to sever their relationship by a media that hounded and pounded at them mercilessly. There are so many ways in which Barack Obama is being forced to deny and repress his "blackness." But when he dismissed his pastor for once and for all, I thought I saw pain, not artificial but genuine pain, in his face and heard it in his voice.



Wright has made some errors, but we know that he is a brilliant and distinguished man of deep faith and commitment. I also know, as do my fellow clergy, that even the most intelligent and insightful members of our congregations may see us through filters and lenses that make us look more super - human than we imagine. No doubt this was the case with Obama/Wright. After all, Barack had come to his discovery of his faith under that man!



When, for whatever reason, the veneer comes off and the clergyperson is revealed to be human, flawed, and especially when the perception arises that the clergyperson is in any way abandoning his/her congregant, the pain, anger, and disillusionment are so deep and so distressing that some people even lose faith.



But most don't. In fact, they may grow. That is my prayer for Barack Obama.. that he will emerge sadder but wiser. And for Wright... may he be wise enough and intelligent enough to see deeply into why it had to be this way.