Sermon

INTRODUCTION: I read in a footnote that theologian Rosemary Chinnici says that most of us have a time in life when our inherited faith comes up against our life experiences in a way that creates a spiritual crisis. Or to put it more simply, life isn’t always as we were taught to believe. Dr. Chinnici calls that a religious impasse. In such moments of religious impasse, she contends that people have three choices:

1. We can comply with our inherited belief system and deny our own hopes and needs (“inherited belief system” normally means the one we were born into).

2. We can abandon that inherited belief system because of its inadequacies, and cut our lives loose from ties with any religious community. Or:

3. We can become a theologian. “Becoming a theologian” in Dr. Chinnici’s sense means engaging in the task of reworking our beliefs in the light of our experience.

For a moment, let’s discuss the first of those three options: Many of you have disclosed to me at some time or other, the struggle you have had with the limitations of your inherited belief system. How do we make sense of so much of what we were taught and trained to think and be? How do we measure its usefulness and viability? Or did we discover that there was an expiration date stamped on it, and when we looked at it in the midst of a life struggle, we realized it was terribly dated. It no longer seemed fresh nor relevant to our life situation.

Our being here in a Unitarian service is witness to the kind of decisions many of us have made about our inherited beliefs.

Then there’s the second decision, according to Dr. Chinnici, where we simply cut ourselves off from anything to do with “organized religion,” and proceed with the task of living our lives without any connection to a faith community. Several here have shared with me that they went through a significant period of their lives without ever darkening the doors of church, synagogue or mosque.

Then for whatever reason, they received a wakeup call. It could have been something simple, or it could have been a body blow to hopes and aspirations: the loss of a relationship or marriage…the loss of a job or career…forced early retirement…severe financial loss…the death of a loved one…severe sickness, disease, or accident…or disappointment in a leader. The dreams and the visions of tomorrow came to a screeching halt. We awoke from sleeping, as it were, and realized there was more to life than we were living, or at least what we understood.

That’s when the third option comes into play, which I like to think that most of us are exercising now, namely, “engaging in the ongoing task of reworking our beliefs in the light of our experience.”

You see, the problem with beliefs and creeds is not with beliefs and creeds, or with what they say. Rather, it is our failure to realize that all faith statements are poetic approximations of the Reality before which we all stand.

Let me repeat that please: All faith statements are poetic approximations of the Reality before which we all stand. That poetry may include wondrous miracles and myths about the past and the future – poetically speaking.

So how do we go about reworking our beliefs in sync with our lives? Are there any handholds to hold on to when the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune assail us? I think there are. Here are just three in what I call a minimal “faith reconstruction”:

1. It starts first with a belief that the Universe is tilted in our favor. That tilt may sometimes be small; other times it may be large. But from the dead grass that pops forth from the ground in a Michigan Spring, to the leaves that fill the trees at the very same time, every season in four-season-regions is a constant reminder that life is on our side. The Universe supports our struggle to live and to reproduce.

It’s the most basic reality faith knows. It enables us to keep on keeping on. It is always there inviting us to find new ways to go on, regardless.

Contrary to the poetry of creeds about miraculous events of the past, this belief is rooted in the reality before our very eyes every day. Through all of the death and dying, pain and struggle, there is that sense which every species possesses of trust in the way things are, of a sense of confidence in the created order.

2. The second handhold in the reworking of our theology is to realize that the religions of the world would not have survived to this good day if they did not have something effectively working for them. The gardens of the gods are filled with the graves of the deities who became irrelevant and religions which didn’t deliver. Someone estimated that there have been more than 100,000 religions in the past. Those that lasted have something effective going for them.

The issue becomes one of realizing that all the faiths of the world confirm this very important cornerstone of personal faith: They all testify that it is possible to connect to that which is more than we are, and which many of us will poetically name God. Regardless of what we name it, the religions of the world give unanimous testimony to this reality: We can synchronize our inner lives with our outer lives. They witness to the fact that we can become the kind of person who contributes to the well-being of the planet, and to our fellow residents, while taking care of ourselves. They confirm their belief that there are ways to become one with all that is, and in so doing live a fuller more meaningful life.

So two of three things that are important in relating our beliefs to life – what Dr. Chinnici called, “becoming theologians” –are: first, confirming our belief that the Universe and life on Planet Earth are tilted in our favor. Second, recognizing that the great religions are in part proof that we can develop a harmony in our lives that will allow us to be in sync with the best that life has to offer. They each offer unique spiritual practices, some good, some not so good; some better at one time than another.

Then, there is a third outcome from “engaging in the ongoing task of reworking our beliefs in the light of our experience”:

3. Our spiritual practice is not the answer in itself; rather, the fact that we commit and engage in a spiritual practice is. In the process of trying meditation, in the process of regular devotions, regular prayer, or a set time of reflective reading, or daily walking on the beach, or constantly spending time restoring the environment – any number of spiritual practices, whatever they may be – in the midst of doing them, we discover one day that our lives are more in sync than we realized. We care more, we give more, and we commit more. It’s the process of spiritual practice rather than the spiritual practice itself that begins the transformation.

But for certain we will never have that sense of connectedness, that fuller sense of inner knowing, if we don’t engage the Universe and access the moment.

So again, three things: one, know that the Universe is tilted in our favor; two, that the religions of the world offer proven ways to increase our sense of being in sync with life in our world; and third, the process of spiritual practice has a self-renewing dimension to it, regardless of the particular practice, per se.

And if you will appropriate those three things: believing life is tilted in our favor, finding a spiritual practice, and practicing it regularly, I promise something quite meaningful will happen. Here’s an example of what I mean:

I’ve mentioned before the little book by a Stanford philosopher entitled, Being-in-Place[2]. He used the illustration of the Sumo wrestlers to explain what he meant: As you know the Sumo wrestlers are huge, and enormously well-trained. When wrestling, their task is to force their opponent out of the circle, or to make him touch the ground with anything other than the soles of his feet.

Here’s where the concept of being-in-place comes to play in their work: In those wrestling competitions, the professionals say that it’s not only a matter of skill, training, and preparation. It is also a matter of an inner sense of “being-in-place.” That translates to an unseen, immeasurable sense of inner confidence and strength, which translates in the circle of competition to an added dimension of power. The Sumo wrestler who is fully aware inwardly and outwardly has an edge.

The application from them to us is this: When we live our lives with a sense of confidence in the created order…when we take seriously the many paths to awareness that the faiths of the world offer us…that process will create a sense of “being-in-place.” Which means that when the bad things happen, we will be able to withstand their ferocity; equally important, when the good things occur, we will be able more fully to appreciate their gifts.

Now, that was all part of an introductory addendum. Having said that, let me transition to the topic of this day: Mothers Day.

Mothers Day was first suggested after the American Civil War by social activist Julia Ward Howe who was horrified by the carnage of more than 500,000 American soldiers died. It was mainly intended as a call to unite women against war. Howe's idea was influenced by Ann Reeves Jarvis, a young Appalachian homemaker who, starting in 1858, had attempted to improve sanitation through what she called "Mothers Friendship Day." She organized women throughout the Civil War to work for better sanitary conditions for both sides. She was instrumental in saving thousands of lives by teaching women in her Mothers Friendship Clubs the basics of nursing and sanitation. When Jarvis died, her daughter, Anna, determined to dedicate her life to her mother's cause and to establishing Mother's Day to "honor mothers, living and dead." Young Anna Jarvis started the campaign to establish a national Mother's Day.

As a result of her efforts the first mother's day was observed on May 10, 1908, in a church service in the Andrews Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia. It gained a widespread popularity across the nation. On May 9, 1914, President Woodrow Wilson made the first official announcement proclaiming Mother's Day as a national holiday that was to be held each year on the 2nd Sunday of May. Nine years after the first official Mother's Day, commercialization of the U.S. holiday had become so rampant that Anna Jarvis herself became a major opponent of what the holiday had become. What began as a religious service had expanded quickly into a more secular observance leading to giving of flowers, cards, and gifts. Mother's Day is also the most popular day of the year to dine out at a restaurant in the United States, and the busiest day of the year for florists.

So much has changed since Margaret Sanger opened her first birth control clinic in Brooklyn, Oct. 16, 1916. It remained open for nine days and served more than 400 women. She was arrested, her clinic closed, and she was sentenced to 30 days in jail. While there, she taught her fellow prisoners about birth control. (Our own Dr. Harold Miller trained for a week at one of the Sanger clinics in New York City during his residency.) From those early beginnings came the giant Planned Parenthood of America.

One of my bookshelves fell off the wall recently. In the interim, the books have been stacked on the floor awaiting redeployment. It just so happened that a book written by Dr. Constance Lindemann, a participant in the congregation where I ministered in Oklahoma lay on top of one of the piles, which I thumbed through again with appreciation. An anthropologist at the University of Oklahoma, she had this interesting statement near the end of her book:

“According to Jewish tradition, once a Jewish woman becomes pregnant, she acquires an obligation for the well-being of both herself and the fetus. Judgments about her behavior and treatment during pregnancy are made on the basis of this dual obligation. In cases where there is conflict between the obligation of the woman to safeguard her physical health on the one hand, and the well-being of the fetus on the other, Jewish law gives primacy to the pregnant woman’s health.

In cases where there is conflict between the woman’s emotional well-being and the fetus’s well-being, the decision is made on the basis of the woman’s emotional distress about the problem. Her own evaluation and testimony of her distress are sufficient without any outside verification or evaluation.” Enough said.

Our member, Dr. Linda Forcey, who directed the women’s study programs at the University of New York at Binghamton, e-mailed the following to me after our lunch together Friday:

“The life giving power of women’s bodies is a deeply personal thing, undefinable by anyone except the woman herself. And yet we can so easily have our power taken at exactly the time when we need that power to make decisions about what is best for us and those we love. What it takes for us to keep our power is a society that deeply values us as women, and that reveres life in all its complexity.”

So first, let’s remember in a moment of recollection our own mothers – how they looked…their sound…their smile. … In a moment, let’s repeat her name: “Mother.” Now: “Mother.”

There are many women in this room who are mothers. There are several women here who wanted but were unable to have children. There are some who chose not to have children. There are some who for many reasons had abortions. There are some who have provided mothering to children in schools and alternative living situations. And there are some who have been wonderful mothers to their pets. We honor all of our mothers today. In a moment, please join me in saying that, “We honor our mothers today.” Now please: “We honor all of our mothers today.”

We will pause now for 7½ minutes of brief questions as a part of our Conversation Café. The Service and Support Council will provide microphones for you to speak into.

[1] A sermon on Mother’s Day presented May 11, 2008, as the second in a series on “Science and Faith,” followed by the Conversation Café of All Faiths Unitarian Congregation, meeting at the Crestwell School, 1904 Park Meadows, Ft. Myers, FL, with the Rev. Dr. Wayne Robinson, minister.

[2] I’m no longer able to locate my copy nor find it in a library.