Armed Guards in Church

I was sitting in a congregational meeting this morning at the church where I serve as the Religious Education director, when a congregant-- in response to yesterday's mass shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh-- (and all the others before it, to be sure) asked if we should consider hiring armed guards during our worship services.

There wasn't a whole lot of response in the moment. We were meeting for different reasons, and so the suggestion was noted, someone spoke a bit about the security measures that are currently in place in the building, and we moved on to other things, but I would be lying if I didn't say it left me rattled.

I wasn't angry about the suggestion. There are moments when I'm not even completely sure it's wrong to consider such an action. It is the same impulse that has motivated communities to lock down school buildings, to install metal detectors in doorways of public spaces, and to implement safety protocols such as ALICE (which was recently implemented in my son's public school, where there is also a full-time SRO- a police officer who is stationed within the public school and is responsible for safety and crime prevention).

It is really difficult to stay resolute about our aspirations for the world in the face of fear. I think this is true for most of us. We have a vision of how we would like things to be in the world, and, we also want to feel safe. When those two things: maximizing our aspirations and maximizing our safety- are aligned, things are relatively easy. As an example, we all want to love and to be loved. I have yet to meet someone who would argue that point. Conveniently, loving and being loved makes the world better and makes us safer. Being loved is one of the most important factors in developing resilience in people. If you are loved as a child, even by one other person, you are significantly more likely to embody resilience. You are more likely to thrive, less likely to be violent and harm others. So, the act of loving and being loved has a positive impact on the world and a positive impact on our own safety. Win, win.

It isn't always so simple.

I have aspirations about the kind of men I want my sons to become, and those aspirations inform my parenting. I teach them the importance of kindness, how to communicate, how to be a part of a community,  how to advocate for their needs while respecting the needs of others, and how to speak up when they witness injustice. My vision for what I want them to know is clear, and those qualities I work to foster in them are qualities that, I hope, will also help to keep them safe most of the time, but that is not always true. If I am truly teaching them to speak up in the face of injustice, for example, I am teaching them something that could put them in harms way at some point. I am teaching them a way of living that does not always maximize their safety, but instead balances it against the safety of others. That doesn't feel as comfortable as it does to offer them love, and yet, I still feel certain it is important, so I have to come to terms with that conflict between my aspirations for them and my desire to keep them safe-- and ultimately, they will have to come to terms with that conflict as well when they are making choices around confronting injustice.

I think the proposal of arming our congregations illuminates a similar conflict between what is best for the greater good, and what might offer an individual community a greater sense of safety. Yes, we could hire armed guards, rerouting funds that would have gone to some other need, to pay for someone to stand and wait for an attack that may or may not come. There is little evidence to suggest this would prevent a gunman from opening fire on the room, but maybe it would lessen the number of deaths, maybe it would be a deterrent. It might make that congregation a little more safe, but then what? If anyone who can afford to hire armed guards to stand in the doorway of their churches, does so, then who is left at risk of the violent armed men who are looking for an opportunity to terrorize people? Has this strategy worked in other applications? Have we solved poverty by locking it into isolated corners and specified communities, have we improved our public education system by accepting a system that funds districts based on the wealth that lives within it's boundaries. Are we made more whole by sacrificing a living wage for the opportunity to buy cheap stuff and have it delivered to our doors? We have ignored the proliferation of guns to the point that guns out number human beings in the United States. There are 326 million people, and 396 million guns. Until that changes, drastically, we are not safe. Period. We need to open our eyes to the connection between the thousands of gun victims in poor black neighborhoods, and the dead children in too-many schools. We need to understand that our liberation from this fear is tied up with every other person in our country, and in our world. We need to realize that open doors- true sanctuaries, where we welcome one another and seek to understand the experience of another, are essential to our safety.

The difficult truth in this moment where hatred is being used to manipulate people and gain power, is that none of us are safe. In the idyllic community where I live, it is easy to forget that we are never safe from hatred. Moments like this rattle fear to life for some of us, but millions of people in today's America live with the awareness of that fear every day. Our job, in seeing this fear, is to remember our aspirations for the world, and to work toward that goal.

The Reverend Jennifer Hamlin Navais wrote a post on social media yesterday to her own congregation, and it is with her words that I will leave you for now:

We are as safe today as we were yesterday and as we will be tomorrow. Our safety, our sanctuary is in each other. Always has been always will be... Look folks in the eye, treat them with respect, confront hatred and return love. Show the world not here, not now, not ever. This, this is what fights hate. More hate, more fear, will not stop the violence in this world, the violence of supremacist rhetoric. More love is what we have to give and more love is our sanctuary.

Holy, Wholly, Holey

Sermon given at South Church Unitarian Universalist Congregation, in Portsmouth, NH

In Berkeley, Ca in 1955 Allen Ginsberg wrote the poem

Footnote to Howl
(I left out a few parts to keep things child friendly):

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an angel!
The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace peyote pipes & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middleclass! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

The idea of holy as something set apart or distinct from the rest of the world doesn’t sit with me. I’m sharing Ginsberg’s vision of salvation, because he is describing an earthly salvation. The holiness is here, mixed up with everything else- it is dispersed and surprising and inherent. The holiness of this world is like a source of food- I need it to feel whole. I depend on the holy, because it carries me, it propels me. Catching sight of it is fortifying. It is in sunbeams and laughter and tears, it is in predictability and routine and also in surprises. It is in the darkest people and things. It is ever present, and it is so easy to miss.

Maybe that resonates for you, too. Maybe it doesn’t. There is something holy in that as well.
---
I would like to invite you this morning to think about three words, actually, what they mean to you and how they live here with us.

First (again), Holy, that which is sacred or divine. In this sanctuary you are expressly invited to reflect on the holy- the mystery of your existence, the infinite. You sometimes might lose your breath here in this room, perhaps on occasion you cry cleansing tears. Here, you are often reminded of what really matters and, sometimes maybe, you open your eyes and find something new that is undeniably essential to your understanding of the world, to the way forward.

The second word, Wholly, as in entirely, or fully. What are all the pieces that make you whole? Like the poetry assignment that Chris tasked us with two weeks ago- what are you from? And what are you for? In this place you are invited to bring your whole self and share your whole self, and I am also invited to bring my whole self and share my whole self. And we are conscious of the gifts that come from each of our individual identities swirling in relationship with one another, and we are always looking to welcome in more, to learn from the new perspectives of newcomers who share new identities and experiences with our ever-changing whole.

The third word, Holey, in that we are filled with holes. We are invited here to reflect on the holy, we are invited, each to bring our whole selves, but we fail as much as we succeed in welcoming one another completely, in opening our eyes to that which will carry us forward. In this community you are imperfect, and I am imperfect. We are practicing and failing on the regular. But every hole, every misstep, offers us opportunity for growth. We are always circling back to check that we are whole, to check that we have made space for the holy. We are committed to being humble and curious. We admire flaws and learn from them.
---
How many of you have ever seen a murmuration of starlings?

To witness one as it bends through the sky is incredible. It is as if the birds are all following some wildly choreographed dance— even in a video it is astonishing.

Adrienne Marie Brown is a writer who published a book last year titled Emergent Strategy. Early on, she quotes Sierra Picket, who writes:

“[A] Starlings’ murmuration consists of a flock moving in synch with one another, engaging in clear, consistent communication and exhibiting collective leadership and deep, deep trust. Every individual bird focuses attention on their seven closest neighbors and thus manage a larger flock cohesiveness and synchronicity (at times upwards of over a million birds).”

When I read this description I immediately pictured all of us—my highest aspirational version of us. A flock moving in synch with one another, engaging in clear, consistent communication, exhibiting collective leadership and Trust; Deep, deep trust as we practice being Unitarian Universalists together.

Yes, I thought, that! That is what I want us to be. How can we do it better than we already are?

And then I thought-- the part about every individual bird focusing their attention on their seven closest neighbors-- How did she know the birds were each tracking seven neighbors?
Why seven?

According to a study published by Princeton University in 2013[1], there was a team of Italian physicists spent years filming Starlings flocking above a train station in Rome. Their research concluded that the birds do, in fact, each track seven neighbors in flight. Sometime later a team at Princeton used the data from the Italian team, and manipulated it to see what would happen if each starling tracked fewer than 7 neighboring birds, or tracked more than 7. The Princeton group were looking to determine how well the birds can coordinate at a minimal cost to each individual.

"Based on this cost-benefit model, the analysis showed that for a flock to be efficient, the optimal number of neighbors that a bird should pay attention to is seven, exactly the same as what the Italian researchers showed actually occurs in nature."

So, basically, Starlings have figured out that paying attention to their 7 closest neighbors is the most efficient way to exist. It takes the least amount of effort.

“What is easy is sustainable”, says Adrienne Brown, “Birds coast when they can.”

So, maybe we can learn from the starlings. How do we each bring our whole self and how do we share who we are with one another? When do we lead others into a turn, and when do we follow and coast?

Who is lonely and needing company, or tired and needing encouragement? Who has music to share, or just arrived with their arms filled with flowers they’ve grown. Who has been leading for too long, or coasting for too long? Who is looking for help and feels like no one hears them?
Who arrived this morning intent on volunteering with children in our community knowing that to be one of the most impactful actions you can take in this world? (By the way, it only requires about an hour or two each month!)

What I’m asking, is how conscious are you about the things you are carrying into this community? How intentionally are you sharing them? Who are your seven closest neighbors? What are they carrying and what are they sharing? Do we flock in separate streams or do we arch and bend toward our many parts, looking for new neighbors to open our eyes in a new ways?

Who are we, wholly?

What about the holy? What is it for you, and how do you make space for it? When was the last time you found yourself breathless, transformed, lifted up? Certainly, there are times when those kinds of experiences are personal, but when was the last time you talked with someone about your spiritual life?
What can you teach me about your faith, and what can I share with you?

And then there are the holes.
There are a ton of clichés about learning from our mistakes. As parents we tell our kids all the time that “mistakes happen”, “they are a part of life, it doesn’t matter if you make a mistake it matters what you do about it”. But there are also just as many more subtle messages in our world telling us to avoid our mistakes, to downplay them, cover them up, leave them behind. My dad, who I love with all my heart, has lived his whole life, 75 years, believing that apologizing is a sign of weakness. He and I had a long talk about it a couple years ago, and his conclusion in our conversation was that his near inability to apologize is not something he can change about himself- it’s been too many years, he said- he learned early in his life that if you admit to a mistake, you make yourself more vulnerable. I don’t think he’s alone in that experience- quite the contrary, I think it is painfully common for people to believe that admitting to a mistake is a dangerous act. If you don’t believe me, watch how people respond when a mistake they’ve made is exposed- particularly people in powerful positions. We are not good at taking accountability.

But what’s strange, is that more times than I can count, I have seen mistakes which are acknowledged and examined become the impetus for lasting positive change. In fact, I can think of very few examples of progress that came devoid of conflict and mistakes. I grew up being taught not to admit to mistakes, but every time in my life when I have faced my own missteps and taken the time to be accountable to them and to move to a place of resolve about them I have become more whole, more forgiving of myself, more aware of the gift of those very missteps I fear making. I have changed through this understanding.

We are human beings, and human beings are complicated, messy creatures. Sometimes, with the best of intentions we cause deep harm. Sometimes, we don’t have the best intentions. We are capable of greatness, and we are equally capable of less than greatness. So what would it look like if, instead of trying to pretend that isn’t true- instead of looking for ways to separate ourselves from the mistakes in the world we acknowledged that life is messy and complicated and we committed to examining the moments where that not-so-perfect stuff showed up in our own lives and in our own community.

Engaging in clear, consistent communication, exhibiting collective leadership and deep, deep trust. We can learn something from the Starlings.

We are starting a new year together this fall. We are moving back into a new space for learning and sharing and growing together. We are living in a world that is facing tremendous challenges, and we are each living lives replete with obligations, struggles, joyful distractions, and perplexing endeavors.

What is easy is sustainable.

Committing to one another makes our journey easier—we each just have to track our seven closest neighbors, we each have to lead sometimes, and remember to coast when we need the rest.

Bring your Whole self
Make space for the holy
Examine the holes.
And let us soar, together.

Benediction: The Great Scarf of Birds, by John Updike 
[excerpt]
…
The rise of the fairway above us was tinted,
so evenly tinted I might not have noticed
but that at the rim of the delicate shadow
the starlings were thicker and outlined the flock
as an inkstain in drying pronounces its edges.
The gradual rise of green was vastly covered;
I had thought nothing in nature could be so broad
    but grass. 

And as
I watched, one bird,

prompted by accident or will to lead,
ceased resting; and, lifting in a casual billow,
the flock ascended as a lady’s scarf,
transparent, of gray, might be twitched

by one corner, drawn upward and then,
decided against, negligently tossed toward a chair:
the southward cloud withdrew into the air.

Long had it been since my heart
had been lifted as it was by the lifting of that great
    scarf.

---

[1] https://www.princeton.edu/news/2013/02/07/birds-feather-track-seven-neighbors-flock-together

Homily from Bridging Worship

I’d like to start this morning by telling you a story about a long time ago, when I was a part of the youth group at my local UU congregation in Stony Brook, NY- a tiny, motley crew of kids who spent Sunday mornings on old furniture packed in a room in the children’s wing of the church. Sometime in the winter of my 15th year I received a flyer in the mail for a UU youth conference on Star Island. It was a double-sided, hand-written and then photo copied flyer- I think the theme of the conference may have been Mandalas, I have no idea how they got my address, but when I read the invitation I knew I had to go, so I quickly reached out to my two best friends, neither of whom were UU’s, and I convinced them to come with me for a week on an island off the coast of Maine. I give huge props to our parents, who shuttled us north, and dropped us off at the dock here in Portsmouth and watched us board the Thomas Leighton to places unknown.

That decision changed my life. That week was the first time I can recollect being conscious of the fact that people are extraordinary, and that they have things to teach me. I had stumbled into a gathering of youth who were wholly committed to creating community with one another. They led immersive week-long morning workshops digging into deep subjects, one-shot afternoon workshops designed to be more light-hearted and impromptu, evening family groups where everyone checked in, and where youth kept an eye out for anyone who might be struggling. There were people playing guitars on rocking chairs, laying out on blankets talking in the sunshine. Hikes around the island, hours-long games at tables in the lobby. Dance parties and coffee-houses, and worship every night- with candle filled lanterns leading the way to the tiny stone chapel at the top of the hill, that we would pack full, bodies draped across one another, occupying every window ledge and even sometimes sitting on the steps in the entrance. Singing harmonies, and testifying about love, and sharing poems written with the raw, wide open eyes of teenagers who have just discovered so many things.

My friendships with UU youth were among my first experiences of love for people other than my family. As teens, we seek to trust, and love, and lean on others, as we move through the process of separating from our parents. If we are lucky enough to find people who treat us well, we often fall into one another deep and fast during those years. We love hard. We soak up energy and inspiration from each other, and we move with ease from grief to laughter, from hard truth to goofy humor. It can be a beautiful time of exploration and growth.

My friends and I would travel hundreds of miles back then to be with one another. A pod of them would sometimes come for overnights at my house. We would celebrate the new year in a pile on my living room floor or move in a pack through my family’s Fourth of July celebrations. We would invade my mother’s kitchen to make meals together, or just to lean on the counters, throw darts at the dart board and talk about our struggles and our dreams.

If you asked my parents to describe us in those days, they would point out that we were almost always attached to each other- our arms draped around one another as though each were an essential appendage to the other. We shared a deep joyful connection; giddy loving friendship, swimming with admiration. In my eyes they could do no wrong- everything about them filled my heart and gave me energy.

As I’ve aged, most of those friendships have endured, and those people are woven so deeply into who I am that I suspect I wouldn’t recognize myself without the things I’ve learned from them. How I love has become a little less intense these days. I’ve grown more comfortable with myself, and a bit more cautious of others- but I still flutter at the magic of people.

Just as suffering makes us wise for future challenges, loving makes us better at loving.

I don’t know how many of you watched the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle that happened about two weeks back. It was a spectacle to be sure, and Royal Weddings aren’t really my cup of tea, but I happened to come across a recording of the sermon that was offered by Bishop Curry—and it was a sermon. His message was about the power of love, and he dropped some hard truth into that message. He took hold of the opportunity to speak to the world through the words he shared during that wedding, and he did not waste that moment.

There's power in love. Don't underestimate it. Don't even over-sentimentalize it. There's power, power in love.

If you don't believe me, think about a time when you first fell in love. The whole world seemed to center around you and your beloved.

Oh there's power, power in love. Not just in its romantic forms, but any form, any shape of love. There's a certain sense in which when you are loved, and you know it, when someone cares for you, and you know it, when you love and you show it - it actually feels right.

There is something right about it. And there's a reason for it. The reason has to do with the source. We were made by a power of love, and our lives were meant - and are meant - to be lived in that love. That's why we are here.

[Bishop Curry told the world]

When love is the way, then no child will go to bed hungry in this world ever again.

When love is the way, we will let justice roll down like a mighty stream and righteousness like an ever-flowing brook.

When love is the way, poverty will become history. When love is the way, the earth will be a sanctuary.

When love is the way, we will lay down our swords and shields, down by the riverside, to study war no more.

When love is the way, there's plenty good room - plenty good room - for all of God's children.

"Because when love is the way, we actually treat each other, well... like we are actually family.

You hold that power. We hold that power. Here. Right now. We have all the ingredients to change the world. We have extraordinary people to learn from, we have a commitment to change, and we have the ability to inspire. We have gifts to give.

There are never guarantees, but none of this happens without us committing to creating community- here, or wherever we find ourselves in the world. Try as we might to find the perfect words to decry an action playing out 4 states away, it is really right here, where we need to begin. Everything that is dark, or misdirected in the larger world, it lives right here. It lives inside of each of us, it lives in our families, it lives in our community, it lives in our church. We all have bias, and blind spots, and ways we could do better. We are all at times (most times) seduced by this culture of domination that is threaded throughout our history and right up to this very moment. Where we strive to be at the top so that we don’t have to be at the bottom. Where we think more about the things we want, than the people we know- That is the antithesis to the love of which Bishop Curry speaks, and to the covenant of our shared faith. We all have healing to do, and apologies to make. We all need to be loved and to be held, and we all need to know that someone will catch us if we fall, and we all are responsible for catching one another. No matter how much money you make, you cannot outsource the job of being in relationship with people, and you cannot fast track the process, but when you commit to that work, with all of its challenges, and sacrifice, there is something right about it. Something inspirational.

Because when love is the way, we actually treat each other like family.

May it be so.

A letter to my son as he prepares to graduate:

Shared with permission from my son, because these are conversations we need to have- all of us. Our children are unique, and the specifics of these conversations are also unique, but sometimes it helps to hear one person's version. It is in that spirit that I share this:

Hello sweet one.

I’ve got some things to say to you as you get ready to graduate, and I’ve decided to write them to you, in case you read this and think—"I know, Mom..."
If you keep it, maybe you'll read it again every so often. These things I have to say are important, and although you know them, it takes practice to live them. More than that, actually. Even though you know them, this world puts a lot of effort into making you forget them, helping you forget them... even rewarding you for forgetting them. If you find that happening, I hope you will read this letter again, and I hope it will help.

#1. I am always on your team. I love you and your brother more than any other people on this planet, and my wish for you has always been the same- I want you to thrive, and I'm invested in helping, always. That means you can ask me hard questions and I will give you hard truths if you want them. It also means you can ask me to listen and keep my advice to myself. It means my arms are open and I will be here to support you as you step into a life that is more separate from me.

#2. Choose the risks you take, don’t let someone else choose them for you. When you were in fourth grade, you had a class assignment that involved creating an auto-biography, and one of the sections of the worksheet asked if you identified as a leader or a follower. I remember reading your response, that you were a follower, and thinking how it seemed (to me) to be true and false at the same time. You are so devoted to your friends. I see the love you have for them, and I’m sure they have that love for you, too. That devotion has been a gift to all of you, as you’ve helped each other navigate high school and all the challenges that come with growing through adolescence. Over the years I’ve seen you look around for clues to fit in, and I’ve seen you make decisions to follow sometimes, but I’ve also seen clarity in you for a long time. You know who you are, you have a deep sense of equity, and you are so, so kind. Those are qualities of a leader. Leading can feel lonely sometimes, and there is nothing wrong with choosing to follow if it’s thoughtful, but when it comes down to it, you – and only you– should make the big choices about your own life. If someone is asking you to follow, take the time to first check in with the leader in your heart and make sure that’s the right call. Trust your gut. If you need an excuse, I can ‘pretend to visit’ ANYTIME.

#3. Be a good man. I know you have never wanted to talk with me about crushes, or dates. I don’t know much, even now, about the young woman you are dating (though she seems nice and you seem happy), but I do know that you have grown up in a time where pornography is a click away, where our communications happen through text messages and snap chats as much as they do in person, and where people curate their image of themselves online. You know this world better than I do, but I know the world that existed before cell phones and the internet, and I worry about love and intimacy in this new world.

Media and Pornography: I know this is a weird thing to bring up in a graduation letter, but sweetie, it doesn’t help any of us that something so pervasive doesn’t ever get talked about. Shame and Silence are dangerous. In general, a lot of the the messages in the media, and particular in porn- are toxic. Women, for example, don't-by default- like to be spanked, have their hair pulled, or handled with force, yet images like that are prevalent in porn, so, with real life human beings, don’t assume that it's ok to treat them that way. Don't assume that someone wants to see a sexual image from you or wants to send one to you. Intimacy with another person demands communication, and even if it feels a little awkward at first, the more you communicate the easier it gets (for both people!). Ask First. Don’t assume you know what your partner likes, or needs in order to feel safe and good.

People aren't always as confident as they might seem. If you are in an intimate moment and the woman you are with starts to seem quieter than usual, or stops making eye contact, CHECK IN WITH HER. It isn’t enough to expect her to say something if she’s not comfortable. Ask her if she feels comfortable, give her the option to stop. Be extra respectful, extra communicative. Trust your gut if things start feeling off, because people matter more than 'getting off'. Don’t brag about sex. Don’t hit-on people when they’re drunk. If someone says no to you, respect her answer, don't keep pushing and coercing. Don’t believe the world when it tells you this kind of stuff is normal. It’s not. And this all goes for you, too. Just because you are a guy, does not mean you always feel comfortable with what's unfolding. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, that means you are human. Consent matters- for everyone.

Sex is a great thing, casual sex is fine as long as it’s consensual, but the electricity that you feel in your whole body when you first hold hands with someone you really like, or when you first kiss, is a whole different game. Respect everyone you choose to be intimate with, and when you fall in love, prioritize them just like you always have done with your friends and family. And. Expect the same from them. You are amazing. It’s worth being patient and finding someone who sees that about you, and treats you well.

#4. Use your privilege. I think you get this, but it’s easier said than done in our world. (This gets back to that leader vs. follower thing, too.) The simple fact of the matter is that we live in a world where being born male, being born white, being born straight, cis-gendered, upper middle-class.. each of those things is a like getting a wild card in the card game of life. It doesn’t mean you haven’t worked hard for the things you have, or that you don’t face challenges, or that bad things don’t happen to you, but it does mean that doors tend to open for you when they are less likely to open for people not holding those wild cards. I hope you will continue to learn to see those doors, and to look for ways to hold them open for the people who can’t get through them as easily. This work takes intention. You need to read about the experiences of marginalized people, and listen when they name inequity, you need to always remember that being raised with privilege makes it hard to see the privilege you have. A lot of the musicians you love speak truth to power on the issue of racism, but you need to do more than listen to music. Push for change—in yourself and in the people around you.

#5. Get excited for changes in direction, mistakes, and living cheap! You have such big dreams, and I feel so lucky that I get to watch you chase them, and to catch some of them! You are taking charge of these first steps in a way that seems brave and fearless, and I think that’s awesome. I have no idea what will work out and what will not, but just remember that you will learn as much from the failures as you will from the successes in your life. Some of the worst moments in my own life became the source of immeasurable growth for me, and that is a common experience amongst the most resilient people I know. Bad shit happens. I hate thinking about that being true for you, but it is unavoidable, so trust me when I tell you that there is a way forward, even from the most difficult experiences.

Sweetheart, when I think about you moving out into the world, my heart aches, but I also feel unbelievably lucky that I get to be your mom. I know this is a big time of transition, but I also know that you are still mine, always mine. I am so proud of you. I am so excited for you.

I love you.

~Mom

Milk Thistle

Homily from Saturday morning worship- LREDA fall con

I met a man on my way to the rental car office after landing in Denver. He was probably in his mid 50s- i gathered by his smile when I implied we were peers as our conversation drifted to teenaged children, finding jobs, the value of a degree, and college cost- how much it’s changed since we were young. He is a black man who lives in Las Vegas and sells cars for a living. He shared with me that he loves Las Vegas, and we both looked down as we spoke about the recent shootings. “I think, I said, that we live in a country that values money and profit more than human life.” And he nodded and we both fell silent, until he added, “it won’t change.” 

And then he asked me what I do for a living, and I had that moment that I imagine many of you also experience, where I want to answer with 10 sentences, not 5 words: I am a Religious Educator, i say. And then i feel paralyzed, because somehow his comment - “it won’t change”- made me fear that my work- my faith- must seem like a waste of time to him. A religion rooted in an illusion, that: we can change.

But the truth is, our work is the opposite of that fear that bubbled up in me; to seek change is not illusive work. We will change, it is inevitable. It is simply a question of what that change looks like. I do not believe we have total control, but neither are we powerless. We each have the power to influence change-- at least in ourselves. 

“Milk Thistle teaches guerilla warfare.” Writes Aurora Levins Morales in her book, Remedios. “Adaptogen milagrosa, Milk Thistle works with what is here, the yellow layers of toxins, the charcoal grit, the green bile slow as crude oil pooling in the liver's reservoirs, waiting to learn to flow. Milk Thistle says take what you are and use it. She's a junkyard artist, crafting beauty out of the broken. She's a magician, melting scar tissue into silk. She's a miner, fingering greasy lumps of river clay for emeralds. She can enter the damaged cells of your life and recreate your liver from a memory of health. She can pass her hands over this torn and stained tapestry of memory and show us beauty, make the threads gleam with the promise of something precious gained. She will not flinch from anything you have done to keep yourself alive. Give it to me, she will say. I will make it into something new. She will show you your courage, hammered to a dappled sheen by use. She will remind you that you took yourself over and over to the edge of what you knew. She will remind you that the world placed limits on your powers. That you were not omnipotent. That some of the choices you made were not choices. Use what you are, she says again and again, insistent. You are every step of your journey, you are everything that has touched you, you are organic and unexpected. Use what you are.” 

Brave spaces are honest, and raw, and messy. They require us to look inward and find our boundaries, and then to push ourselves right up to their edge. 

Brave spaces are spaces where every person’s story matters, and is sought out. Where we are conscious of our limitations, and are open to guidance from one another. Brave spaces require authentic accountability, and they require trust- not just trust in one another, but trust in transformation. 

How do we embody milk thistle in our work. How do we recreate ourselves from a memory of health. Where do we find that memory?

What are the yellow layers of toxins, charcoal grit?

Because the suggestion is that it is in this ugly that we find our strength. And this resonates for me, when I look at my own life. It is in the ugly that I find my strength at least as much as in the beauty. The betrayals, the mistakes, the struggles, and losses, and challenges all pour into who I am- I am not me without them, and each time I face a new hardship, I am stronger because I have grown to know my own strength by the times before that I have been tested and survived.

“Give it to me,” Morales writes, “I will make it into something new.” That is the work set before us, dear ones. We are being called to find our courage and use what we are, in all of it’s messy, imperfect grandeur. We are being called to seek the truth and to speak the truth. To push ourselves, and to help others to see their own courage, so they can do the same. Aptogen Milagrosa, my friends. It even sounds like magic.

Let's get messy

I was asked by the ministers I work with if I would speak to our congregation about my vision for the future of Unitarian Universalism. I want to share that here, but I know that some of you are not UU's, and I hope you will still read this, because really, I don't see a difference at all between my hope for my faith and my hope for the world at large, for our families, communities, cultures, all of it. 

My hope is that we will get messier.

My friends, we need to keep at this work. I think some of us are on the right track right now, but we have been there before, and we’ve gotten tired and ducked back under the covers. 

I was watching the Yankees play in the ALCS Friday night and a commercial for the Free Masons popped up. The ad began with the statement: Being a man used to be simpler…

 I wonder if even 5% of the people watching that commercial flinched when they heard that claim? Statements like this are everywhere. Bids, being made to us in every corner of our lives, asking us to connect with an oversimplified statement of “truth” that is a far cry from the messy, complicated reality it is pretending to be.

It is hard to spend time trying to envision the future right now, because the future, when you really look at it, is ominous. I don’t blame people choosing to look away, it is understandable when the alternative- whether you are examining economics, politics, justice issues, or our planets health- is so bleak. Our problems are intertwined, and the power that might allow for change feels out of reach, or squandered, or misused.

And that doesn’t even begin to cover all the little and big challenges we are each facing individually:

Childhood

Parenting

Navigating friendships and romantic relationships

Missing those we love who have died.

Wishing we had more time with loved ones who are living.

Aging

Caring for those who are sick

Trying to make sure we, ourselves, are cared for

Health, Money, aspirations, dreams

Life is messy. And it’s complicated. It has always been that way, but we have taught ourselves to pretend otherwise. Throughout history, most human civilizations have operated with the presumption that the only people who’s needs we really have to consider are those who hold power. That was never the truth, there was never a day in all of history where the needs of those in power were more important than the needs of those without power, and yet, this has always been our modus operandi- right up to this moment.

That is our human legacy- we have found it more ‘simple’ to meet the needs of some, than to do the work to meet the needs of all. It has been a game of kick the can that has gone on for many centuries, putting off messy, complicated work, and now we are wondering how we got here? And reminiscing for the time when ‘Being a man was simpler...”

My faith, Unitarian Universalism, was built from this mess. It has grown from centuries of humans grappling with the world around us and trying to find truth. Not the simplified truth that serves some at the expense of others, but the messy imperfect truth that brings tears along with laughter, loss along with gain, that offers transformation for all.

In practice, UU's still have a lot of work to do, but my vision is a faith where we seek relationship with others in part because it is the key to understanding one another deeply, and that understanding each other is essential to our ability to help each other move forward.

I envision a faith where we are each looking for our own flaws, and understand that admitting to them, and naming them is not a sign of weakness, but rather a sign of strength. Where making a mistake is seen as an opportunity- not that we hope for them to happen- but that we recognize they are inevitable and we grapple with the lessons they offer us.

There will always be ways that we miss the mark because of our own biases- which are largely invisible to us by design- but which we must always strive to see. 

I envision a faith where we put our children and youth on the top of our list of priorities in our congregations and in our larger communities because we know that they are our future, they are the remedy to short sighted thinking. Investing in their ability to see complicated truth is investing in the formation of the hearts and minds that might literally save humanity.

And through all of this, I envision a faith that offers a path for each of us to find meaningful spiritual practice that can ground us and guide us as we grapple with this messy work. We sing with abandon, and dance, and cry, and laugh. We are joy-filled and passionate.

When we are doing it right, this work is not something we fit into our life, it is the air we breathe.

When we are doing this right, we look messy.

We show up with stains on our shirts, or tears on our cheeks, if that is what the day brings.

We ask questions that we aren’t sure we’ve framed the right way.

We forgive each other but also hold one another accountable.

When we are doing this right, I believe, we are taking one step at a time, leading and following, breaking the trail some days and recharging while others among us forge forward the next.  

When we are doing this right, we are doing it together. Our hands get dirty, we look awkward and confused, and we feel in our hearts that we are on the right path.

May it be so.

Dear Parents,

Dear parents,

A few years back, as I was planning  orientation for our High School Youth group, I found myself trying to figure out how to address an issue we’d experienced the year prior, where many of our upper class students (Juniors and Seniors) has dropped out of church.

It was an unexpected departure of a large portion of the group, and it had been disruptive, as you might imagine, for a number of reasons, and it was complicated in ways that I don’t need to dig into here, but one interesting thing I had discovered as the year had played out, was that many of the parents of those youth were also dismayed at the choice their children were making. In a variety of interactions over the year, I found myself in conversations with these parents, and repeatedly, heard them say something along the lines of:

“I’m really disappointed, but I had told X that after Coming of Age ended, they could choose if they wanted to continue attending church. I wish they’d made a different choice.”

Every time I encountered a variation of this message, I found myself feeling increasingly curious as to what this meant in relation to our congregation, the RE program, and Unitarian Universalism.  I wondered if there was a lesson in what I was hearing from these parents. 

As a parent of a teenager, I understood that parenting through adolescence requires us to walk a confusing line between asserting family expectations and values while granting new autonomy and independence. We are preparing our children for the transition they will soon be making into adulthood. Parents are regularly observing the day to day of their teenaged child and determining whether or not to get involved- whether to enforce an expectation, follow up on a task to see if it’s been done, or help our teens out of a mess they’ve made. Sometimes multiple times a day, we are called to evaluate and determine a path, and often times when we make a choice to step in or speak up we are met with resistance. It is mentally exhausting work.

Essentially, we are looking for things we can cut loose, new privileges and responsibilities, and hoping that we choose the right things and the right time. Perhaps this means we stop checking their school grades and following up on missing assignments with them. Perhaps we stop helping them remember sports schedules, or suggesting strategies for managing their time. Some parents choose to let go of monitoring bed time, or ‘screen’ time. Our teens may now find themselves responsible for their own laundry, a job out of the home, even car insurance or gas money. Some of us stop requiring presence at family meals, or family vacations, and some of us tell them they can make their own choice about church.

None of those decisions are necessarily wrong. Not even the church one. This is what I found myself sharing with the parents of our high school youth group at orientation that evening a few years back. And I have had variations of this talk with many groups of parents since. It is a part of our coming of age orientation in 8th grade, and we return to it in the high school years.

As I listed off that not-at-all-exhaustive list above, of things we might renegotiate as our children move through adolescence, you might have heard things you would also have passed off to your own teen, and you may have heard other things you would never have let go. Every family is different, for a million reasons, and every family has to make their own decisions about how to navigate this beautiful, difficult, imperfect journey of raising children to be adults.

But.

Do not forget that your answers to all of those questions and so many others, are deeply tied to your values. And the choices you make around which expectations you continue to require of your teen, as well as the way that you frame those things you are passing off to them, it all communicates your values to your teenage child, and they are listening.

So, if it is important to you that your teenager is a part of their church community, then you may want to be more nuanced about how you give them autonomy in that arena. It is not all or nothing, I am not suggesting that you go to the mat and force them to come to youth group if they don’t want to do so, but be thoughtful, and don’t underestimate your influence.

Perhaps, instead of telling your child they can decide if they want to be a part of church, you might say, they can decide how they would like to be involved in church; That church is an important part of your family, but if they don’t want to participate in youth group, they can choose to come to service on Sunday mornings instead, or to volunteer in the nursery. In my family, I have given my son 3 Sundays a year (not counting the occasional school event conflict) where he can choose to opt out on youth group. This allows him to choose to prioritize a concert or other social event on occasion but he knows to choose carefully.  That works for us, but as I said before, every family is different, raising kids is a tricky, imperfect process, and if I’m doing my job right, this talk is helping you feel empowered not making you feel like you’re missing the mark.

The first time I shared these thoughts with a group of parents was an awakening for me as well, because I realized as these words came to me, and as I saw my fellow parents relax into the message I was sharing with them, that this was another way that we learn from each other. My insight grew directly from deep sharing moments with multiple parents- from a relationship of trust and respect we shared with one another- and through that bond, and those conversations, I found the thread of something that can help buoy families still rising through our faith. It isn’t about finding one path and setting everyone upon it, it is about seeing patterns, and helping others anticipate them. Parents are the primary religious educators for their children, but none of us always feel confident in that role, and so we lean on one another, encourage one another, learn from each other, and we move forward together.