Sermon

INTRODUCTION: Long before writing was invented, human beings “read” their world:

Why they were doing this was because they were attempting to read the blanks…the holes…the gaps in the lives they lived. Much like children, who makeup for their lack of life experience with magic and fantasy, so the ancients attempted to make up for not understanding how the world worked.

And the religions of the world are the ways in which they made up for the shortfalls in their understandings about how we should live and treat each other and our world.

Like our ancestors, we too fill in the blank spaces. We’ve said Darwin discovered this, and evolution answered that, and this is the way the world is.

But ever so often, we wonder. When anything is reduced down to what a laboratory, or a scientist, or a philosopher has concluded, even when we know they are right, there is something that wants to say, but what about…what if…have you ever thought that maybe this, or that?

It’s another way of saying that life is more than our explanations. It has those blank spaces…those holes…those gaps that call for special understanding…that say we can tap into a region of our lives that is not explained.

It’s a recognition that life has to be more than its explanations. There’s a dimension that doesn’t fit the formula. There’s a part that doesn’t fit the whole. It’s that sense of the sacred…that sense of being in place.

Many years ago, Linus Pauling, a Unitarian, and one of the nuclear scientists involved in the creation of the atom bombs which fell upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki, was out walking in the woods with a friend. In the process, they came upon a beautiful little terrapin. Dr. Pauling leaned down and picked it up, and then remarked to his friend that his grandson back at the house might enjoy having it as a pet.

He had only walked a few feet, however, when he stopped, went back to the exact same spot where he had picked up the terrapin, and put it down. As he walked away, he said to his friend, “I’ve disturbed the earth enough.”

There is increasing evidence that “disturbing the earth,” is somehow endemic to our species, and that it is reflective of a way of understanding that roots at the very heart of human existence and our religious self-understanding.

In fact, there are some who say that the dominant religions of the West, whether Judaism, Islam, or Christianity, have built-in disdain for the worth, the value, the sacredness of our trees, and plants, our water and wildlife. There seems even to be a presupposition built in to Western human consciousness that if destroying or disturbing the eco-system gives us pleasure, then it is okay. If it enables us to benefit financially, if it fulfills our desire for growth and development, then there are no other warrants to be considered.

Arnold Toynbee, one of the great historians of the 20^th century, contended that the source for this kind of attitude roots in the monotheism of Western religions. By that, he meant that when monotheism – the belief in one supernatural god – placed god in the heavens – up there – then in effect, god absented himself (and it was a “He”) from the earth – down here.

There are even sacred scriptures which seek to underscore that the Earth is humankind’s for the having. The Earth was put here for our domination.

The first creation myth of Genesis has wording such as “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth’” (01:26). Or, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it” (v. 28). Or the earth is cursed, not blessed, not beautiful, not to be conserved, and protected.

So we have the spectacle some years back in nations such as Indonesia where the precious rain forests were set on fire so that the land could be turned into commercial use. And the fires got out of hand so much that the entire nation was beset by smoke for months, which wafted over the waters and affected even the quality of air in places as distant as Singapore.

In nations such as Brazil, the rain forests are voraciously being erased for commercial purposes, with the consequent loss of their richness and their irreplaceable conversion of the air into precious oxygen. And even in Ft. Myers, America, there are those interests that seem to be unconcerned about the incredible fragility of our environment and eco-systems, where, like the peoples of other nations, personal interests take precedence over the welfare of society and the environment as a whole.

Toynbee says that this rapacious nature roots in our religious heritage. When we put God up there and humankind down here, then we divorce the sacred from the Earth. We remove divinity from the soil, and we deny the sacredness of our planet.

Toynbee’s charge creates a very interesting issue for those of us who may be atheist, agnostic, or humanist. It is very clear on the one hand, that atheism denies the existence of a supernatural deity separate, up there, or in heaven. According to Toynbee’s thesis, that only resolves one part of the equation – the “up there” part. But, what about “down here?” What about the sacredness of life here, the divinity of all things here? How do we re-appropriate that dimension of existence? How do we create an awareness of the sacral nature of our planet?

There are many women and men who believe that it can not be done within the context and confines of traditional religion. And the reason they believe that is because of what they perceive as the patriarchal or male dominance dimension of our major religions. Further, they contend that the patriarchal character of major religions is one of the very reasons they have an environmentally destructive nature to them.

Is that true? First, are they all patriarchal? Let’s look for a moment. Did you ever happen to notice that all the great prophets of the world’s ancient Western religions were men: Gotama Buddha, Lao-tze, Confucius, Jesus, Muhammad, Pythagoras, the prophets of Israel – all men. Further, the religion which they promoted and which grew up after them, all of them had explicit bias and many times brutal prejudice against women. They were in the fullest sense of the word, male religions, benefiting men most directly.

God was a man, a he; and even in a religion like Buddhism in which there was no god, it was still men who were in charge of the ritual, the temple, and the treasures of the faith.

In the West, these religions displayed male traits and tendencies: competition, acquisition, expansion and self-aggrandizement. In so doing, they reflected the culture.

In fact, cultural anthropologists and behavioral psychologists like Piaget have studied the differences in the habits of males and females. I’m sure you have heard some of this before. When a group of boys come to school early, and get in some kind of game, it is not unlikely that they will get in a fight over the rules and who is right. It may well mean that one or more friendships will end over that encounter.

Those who have studied boys’ behaviors say that is not all that unusual. Winning, and having one’s way, seems much more important to boys sometimes than the loss of friendship and relationship.

Concomitant studies have shown just the opposite for females. When a group of girls arrives at school and they begin to play, if a dispute arises over the rules, girls are more likely to quit playing than force the issue and the possible loss of a friend.

Now if those broad generalizations are in fact true, if women find it more meaningful to network, to develop ongoing friendships and relationships than to be right, to be number one, to have the most marbles, then it seems to follow logically that the kind of gods which men would create would be very different from the gods that women would create.

A very good example is present in the scriptures of ancient Judaism, which Christianity and Islam also claim as sacred. There is no question that the god revealed in Hebrew scriptures is very much a male god, competitive, jealous, quick to anger and retaliation, vengeful, punitive, and much more inclined to fight than flight.

But could there be other tacks to take, other ways of identifying our resources for faith that were not so rooted in male behaviors?

If you would, take out your hymnal for a minute and turn to page 1; now turn back one whole page and look on the left hand side and then at the next to last paragraph. It’s part of what Unitarian Universalists identify as one of the sources for their tradition, and it reads like this:

Spiritual teachings of Earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.”

That’s a mouthful, isn’t it? But what does it mean to have a “spiritual teaching of earth-centered traditions?” What does it mean to “celebrate the sacred circle of life?” What does it mean to “live in harmony with the rhythms of nature?”

First, that we need to reread history and insert the female half of the story. As I’ve said before, reading the bible to understand the contribution of women to our religious development is like studying the writings of Joseph McCarthy to understand communism. That’s the first thing: Give women their due, historically. Learn from the wisdom of women, especially older women.

Secondly, it means that we embrace the richness of our racial, ethnic, and theological diversity. White European Christians did not create the world. While much good has been done by them or us, they or we have a sorry, sorry track record in the encounter with other races, with women, and the environment.

Finally, that we acknowledge our connectedness with all things and re-invest our environment with a sacred character, once again. Everything has a place, a part to play in our world, a role in the scheme of things.

In the book we’re studying in the Minister’s Faith Development Workshop I’m facilitating on Thursday mornings, the authors of the book All Things Shining write that “technology has flattened our lives.” What does that mean? I want to give you a very common experience to illustrate what they mean.

Think for a moment about the American tradition of coffee-drinking. On the one-hand, think of a small bag of coffee beans that you put into a small coffee grinder. The thing you note first is the wonderful smell. Then the next thing is you choose quality water, hopefully without any chemicals. Then you brew it. And when it’s just right you choose your favorite cup, one that’s thick enough to hold in the heat; you maybe add some milk, cream, or sugar, and then you stir as the steam rises up, there’s a nice smell as your lips approach the cup, and you take the first sip. It’s so good that you want to add an “aahh,” after that first drink. That’s coffee-drinking a real cup of coffee.

Now on the other hand compare that to the coffee you will drink in the Community Room after the service. There’s no preparation by you…no first smell…no special cup. Technology has allowed us to produce 50 cups at once, and even to use Styrofoam disposable cups. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with our coffee, but technology has “flattened” one of the most American of experiences: coffee-drinking.

Take another: navigation. I read a whole book on the invention of the compass and the incredible leap forward that it enabled over navigating by the stars. But what was lost in the process…that positioning of one’s boat by the relationship of Earth to the heavens?

Or today, the more common practice of using a Global Positioning System to find your way to Gramma’s House. We punch in an address, and no longer pay attention to the bends in the road, the rivers and markers, because technology is telling us when and what to do. And in the process we lose more and more of our relationship to our space and place.

So maybe one way of unlocking the sacred in our lives is to discover what it is about which we care, and then choosing to invest those routines into a ritual that we care about and give attention to them, and ignore the technology that can speed them up and in so doing, flatten them out. We can develop skills and maintain practices that enable us to feel our sense of place in the scheme of things.

The same may also be said about prayer and meditation, rest and relaxation. The routine can become a ritual that deepens the experience. It enables us to become more sensitive to the world around us and the people who inhabit it. We learn to cultivate that which enriches and deepens our experience in life. Rather than looking, we see. And what we see enables us to tap into something special inside. It slows down our motors and modulates our tempo. It unlocks the sensitivity to the sacred.

[1] A sermon preached January 23, 2011 at the All Faiths Unitarian Church, 2756 McGregor Boulevard, Ft. Myers, FL, by the Rev. Dr. Wayne Robinson, minister.