The Indefinite Article

UU Christian Fellowship Posts

I am providing posts for the UU Christian Fellowship Virtual Monastery in January. Here is a link to the first of six:

http://www.uuchristian.org/M_VirtualMonastery.html

It's not about you!

This article by my colleague, Peter Boullata says what I've been saying for years, but he says it better. We get our own needs met tenfold in service of others. If you don't believe that, you haven't served others. A must read for all Unitarian Universalists http://peterboullata.com/2011/12/29/the-liberal-church-finding-its-mission-its-not-about-you/

Occupation?

My values and my ministry are founded largely on the struggle for justice. I preach regularly as a counter-culture voice against the status quo. I have preached against corporate personhood, and have called for a radical revision of the U.S. Constitution with the goal of better protecting human rights. I am one of countless millions of victims (or is recipients a better word?) of the crumbling U.S. economy, trying with difficulty to raise a family, and wondering whether either of my two pensions will ever be sufficient to allow me to retire. And yet, I am struggling with whether I can support the Occupy Wall Street movement.

Many colleagues, parishioners, friends, and others will be angry at me for saying that I don't support mass protest of our nation's oppressive financial sector. But for now, I don't. At some level, I want to. I want to scream out, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" I agree that we have created an oppressive economic structure that will eventually crumble beneath its own weight, bringing all of us down with it if left unchecked. But that's also why I am struggling with taking to the streets in emotional outrage, righteous indignation, with a litany of demands, as being an effective means of countering the system.

First, we created this mess. Not you and I per se--but in the short span of 200+ years, a quarter of which I have witnessed, our not-so-distant ancestors erected an economy founded on occupation, conquest, and slave labor. We (you and I) have perpetuated it as consumers par excellence, even if only in allowing ourselves to be manipulated by it.

Ironically, every ideology that has sought either through rhetoric or action to destroy our noble democratic experiment of freedom, equality, and justice for all, has done so by attacking or predicting the demise of our economic system. The Soviets knew they would never defeat the west militarily. Their openly admitted goal was economic victory. Communist (or is it now capitalist?) China is now attempting the same without shame or secrecy. Those fringe ideologues who attacked us physically ten years ago, attacked Wall Street at least partially because of U.S. economic world domination and oppression. Are those the footsteps we want to follow in?

In the past year, as in years past, we have watched people in many nations courageously take to the streets to overthrow oppressive regimes with some measure of success. However, those regimes were not founded upon the primacy of the people. They were not representative democracies (or even republics) created with inherent checks and balances, of the people, by the people, for the people. Ours was and is. We are already in charge. To try to topple our own nation's economic infrastructure through an admittedly anarchic strategy of occupation is to commit social and cultural suicide. It is knocking down our own house of cards rather than building it stronger. If these efforts are successful, we will all suffer.

I am not saying that peaceful protest and even well-placed civil disobedience are not useful tactics. They are often incredibly important elements of a larger strategy. I simply think better strategies and tactics could be employed to fix a broken economic system that is the pulse of our capitalist (or is it socialist?) nation, for better or worse.

Perhaps we should just stop using the system for our own gain and comfort with such wild abandon. This isn't so hard to do if those of us with something to sacrifice would be willing to do so. I am changing my bank accounts from the well-known giant I use for convenience to my member-owned bank. I plan to start using cash almost exclusively for daily tranasctions. I have closed some credit accounts than I no longer need. I am again looking more closely at how my 401K retirement account is invested. There are many other steps that we can take as consumers to quickly get the attention of a failing economy. We own it, we feed it, we drive it. It is of the people, by the people, for the people. They (Wall Street) use OUR money, which WE choose how to spend. Wall Street couldn't care less if every citizen of the world takes to the streets, as long as we keep lining their corporate pockets. Changing our spending habits will, however, get their attention quickly.

Again, I know that this will be an unpopular position among my usual associates. I know that there are many more complexities to this critical issue. I agree that we have slowly created a system of economic apartheid under the guise of the American dream. I know that many with extreme wealth exploit the system and everyone in it. I know that many living in poverty don't have the leverage that I have. I know that the rapidly growing poverty gap must be fixed soon before this house of cards comes tumbling down on all of us. But again, this is exactly the point. Those of us with some leverage CAN make a rapid difference by rapidly changing our spending and voting habits with which we feed the system.

My bias is that I have most often effected change and countered the status quo from within the systems I have been a part of, not by tearing them down from the outside. Some will simply call me a hack, a company man, a stooge. But isn't changing a system from within the truest manifestation of revolution? Didn't Jesus ride through the gates of Jerusalem knowing full well what he was doing?

One final point. Occupation? Isn't occupation and oppression what we are trying to overcome? Aren't the people occupying Wall Street and main streets all over the nation and world the same people who oppose military and ideological occupations? How can we occupy what is already ours? We can take it back, but we can't "occupy" it like an army.

If we are truly a nation of the people, by the people, for the people. If we are truly a nation founded by people of faith who espoused the virtues of neighborly love and care, then let us move beyond the language and symbolic practice of the violence and oppression that we oppose and go deeper. Let us create a beloved community without tearing down the entire forest, without throwing out the baby with the bathwater, without the militaristic language and practice of occupation.

With all that said, I want to be proven wrong. I want the "occupiers" to be successful in tearing down oppression. I just want them to be smart, careful, clever, and creatively subversive. Much like Jesus was. Jesus turned over the money changers' tables too. But that was a small part of his revolution. His was a revolution of the mind, body, and spirit. I see people taking to the streets. I want to see people occupying hearts and minds with justice, equity, and compassion.

Maybe I'm just getting old and mellow. Maybe I am too much a part of the system to any longer change it. But maybe not. Maybe changing the world one heart, or one dollar, at a time is still the best way.

Blessings,

Rev. Matt

Why?

"Why?"

It was many years ago now, but I can still remember the first time my eldest son asked that question. He was three years old. I was telling him to do something (I don't remember what). Instead of responding with the worn-out and parent-torturing two-year-old anthem, "No!" he invoked the three-year-old, even more disturbing and existential, "Why?!"

Oh no. Now I had to answer him, reason with him, and know things. Of course, I was well-prepared with my best parental response, "Because I said so!" This, of course, didn't work. It just perpetuated a string of "Whys?"

Three year olds are not the only ones who repeatedly ask why. Therapists do it too. They call in inference-chaining. The idea is to repeatedly ask the client "Why?" to each subsequent answer about their presenting problem or feelings. This moves them closer and closer to their deeper issues.

I think this is also the reason young children ask, "Why?" "Because" isn't the answer they want. They want to go deeper, to learn something they don't know, to explore life's core.

"Why?" is a very human question. Beyond being a learning tool and a means to deeper understanding of ourselves, it can also be an existential call for help.

"Why me?" "Why them?" "Why not?" "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Very simply, to ask why is to be aware of our desire not just for learning, but for difference or change, to ask for help, to be aware of both opportunity and tragedy. It is to be aware of the divine. In our ability to ask "Why?" we are the universe becoming aware of itself.

Sometimes, the answer to "Why?" is neither "Because" nor some deeper insight. Sometimes, the answer is simply, "I don't know," or as Jesus was know for doing, asking a question in return instead of providing an answer.

"Why" lives In the realm of uncertainty and discernment. To provide an answer too quickly (despite the child's natural inclination for concreteness) risks disturbing the creative process. Unquestioned answers are far more dangerous than unanswered questions. Investigation, discernment, and creativity take time.

Perhaps the best response to the "Whys?" that come our way is, "Why, indeed?"

Ten years later

September, 8, 2011

On September 9, 2001, I led a small Sunday worship discussion with several young adults at the University of Illinois. We were talking about the watershed events in our lives and world. My generation remembers the moon landing, Elvis’ death, the Challenger explosion, the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Union. The generation before me remembers the assassinations of Dr. King and the Kennedys. The generation before that remembers the attacks on Pearl Harbor and the dropping of the A-Bomb a few years later. The young adults in that worship service on September 9 said they didn’t have any such events in their lives. That would change just 48 hours later…

Some say that the world changed on September 11, 2001. But violence and evil have always existed. Human beings have always been capable of and too often willing to engage in the unimaginable. We can read about the most horrific human terror in even the most ancient manuscripts written across the millennia. The world didn’t change ten years ago. It simply continued in the reality explained to us in Ecclesiastes–that there is a time for everything, and there is nothing new under the sun.

Even the U.S. didn’t really change ten years ago. Our ancestors have repeatedly seen tragedy of epic proportions in poverty, war, slavery, and genocide in just the past few hundred years. What happened that day was that we once again lost our innocence. The unimaginable happened to us. All of us.

As with natural disasters, few people never feel safe (and are always fearful) in the aftermath of terror. This is because we lose our sense of control, and so our natural instinct is to regain that control. The problem is that none of us can control the hate of another. We can only control our own feelings of love and hate. “There is a season for everything under the sun…” Vengeance, as natural as that response is to our human sensibilities, doesn’t work. As Dr. King said:

Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

And so, ten years later, as prophets and sages have been calling us to do since the beginning of time, we are again called to love one another–to live our lives to the fullest despite the uncontrollable realities of the world. We are called also to remember that good and evil happen to both saint and sinner. We needn’t respond with cynicism or hopelessness to life’s unavoidable tragedies. Quite the contrary, our fragile existence, and the certainty that one day each of us will meet death, are the very things that call us not to take life for granted–to “eat, drink, and be merry,” as Ecclesiastes also encourages–to live with faith, hope, and love in the face of evil.

On this anniversary, our grief remains strong. For some of us, vengeance is still a temptation. But all of us are called to the difficult and painful process of healing–of letting go–letting go of all hope for a different yesterday–letting go of some of our memories of tomorrow–letting go of our anger and hate so that we can make room for joy and love. Looking forward to the life that awaits us rather than reliving the one that has formed us. As Maya Angelou said, “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived. But if faced with courage, need not be lived again.”

There is a time for everything under the sun.

Blessings,

Rev. Matt

The Big Five 0

July 27, 2011

When I turned 20, I thought I was invincible--but I wasn't.

When I turned 30, I thought people would start taking me seriously--but they didn't.

When I turned 40, I was sure they never would--but they did.

I alway thought that when I turned 50, I wouldn't care what others thought. I always thought that I wouldn't care about getting older.

I turn 50 this week--and I care.

I shouldn't care. I don't feel 50. I train for and run at least one marathon a year. I completed an Ironman triathlon just a few years ago. Fifty is the new 40, after all. Right?

So, I was taken completely by surprise in recent weeks when I started feeling old-- and not liking it. It didn't make any sense. I had long looked forward to my 50s. I'd already had my midlife crisis, albeit early, which led me both to ministry and a more active lifestyle of long distance running, biking, and swimming. Most of my high school classmates have made the transition with grace and good health.

So, why has this become more of a burden than a blessing? What am I so worried about? Even Jesus said, "do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." (Matthew 6:34 ESV)

Perhaps, it's because I'm entering the decade in which my father died (he was 59)?

Or because neither my siblings, nor my cousin, nor my best friend ever made it this far?

Maybe it's because my body, which still serves me very well, nonetheless needs several daily medications to stay balanced?

Is it because I've accomplished so much in my first half-century, with three successful careers and raising a family, that I wonder whether I can do as well in the second half?

Each of these certainly plays a role, but aren't the primary object of my concern...

Very simply, this mental milestone has put me face-to-face with my own mortality. It's not the first time. It won't be the last. Too many others find themselves on the other side of this life without warning or without fairness. We, who are still on this side of life, are blessed to have this mirror of our mortal selves held up for us, however clearly or dimly we may see.

This self awareness, the ability to contemplate our mortality, is what makes us human. It is a key to our survival and success. Indeed, here can be found our likeness to God.

In Genesis, God created all that exists, not all at once, but in steps over time. And at each step, God reflected and recognized the good in each creative process.

We follow humbly in God's cosmic footsteps as tiny co-creators on this small, wet, warm, ball of dirt on the fringes of our 14 billion year old, perhaps middle-aged universe. We have the seeming miraculous ability to look out into the abyss, simultaneously into the past and the future, and see that it is good. We are literally the universe being aware of its mortal self.

We can see that our days are numbered, either by the hundreds of billions or by a few tens of thousands at best, depending on how one counts the days in a life.

And so, I care. My days are numbered. As a middle-aged marathon man, I have another 10 or 15 thousand (but not 20) sunrises left in me--if I'm lucky.

My task is to live each day as if it were my last, because one of them will be. In the meantime, I will ride this blue boat home for all it's worth, making each day matter, letting tomorrow be anxious for itself.

I will be 50 this week--and it is good.

The Empty Tomb

April 25, 2011

I have often heard Unitarian Universalist ministers and others call Easter the most troublesome of holidays. I have listened to sermons that ridiculed the resurrection story. I’ve never understood this confusion or rejection of Easter. I find Easter uniquely compatible with modern Unitarian Universalism. Every faith tradition has its stories around new light and new life, about resurrection and renewal, the cycles of the earth and life on it. That’s the easy part. Beyond that, resurrection stories were a common literary and device in first century Judea. But let’s go deeper…

The story of the empty tomb in all four gospel accounts is filled with ambiguity, unknowns, doubt and disbelief. If that isn’t a reflection of Unitarian Universalism, I don’t know what is. In Mark, Luke, and John, when Mary finds the tomb, the stone is already rolled away. There is no explanation as to how it was moved, and no attempt to find out. In Matthew, an angel comes down and rolls the stone away. The story in each case intentionally questions the status quo. Tomb stones are not generally moved by angels or mysteriously by themselves. Next, the women find the tomb empty, except for an angel who tells them Jesus is risen. They are immediately afraid and they run away. Then, when Jesus appeared to Mary and to others, some didn’t believe it was him. They were filled with doubt. We Unitarian Universalists are masters of doubt.

Each new day, each sunrise, there is something new to learn, a new experience and mystery to be solved because we specialize in empty tombs. On our search for truth and meaning, we most often look in the empty space. We search through the sometimes frightening world of ambiguity more than the comfort of certainty. In the surprise of the empty tomb we are forced to look within ourselves for meaning, and not just rely on that which we can see and understand clearly. When we find something that seems clear, we continue to struggle through our doubt and disbelief as a means to better understanding rather than confusion.

More importantly we find our faith in the process rather than the destination. We find it in the process of the sun rising everyday, rejoicing in each new day no matter how tragic or triumphant. Each morning breaking brings with it unlimited opportunities and possibilities. New light and new life come with every morning.

Empty tombs are alive and well.