From the Minister

To the question which is so present for us now – “What can we do?” – there will not be an easy answer.  There may not be an answer at all.  There will be, there is, the here and now, the every day.  What we do in each moment, at each juncture and opportunity, is what any answer will be made of.  There are answers, moment by moment, in how we treat people and animals and plants, in how we use energy and live on the earth, in how we rest and sing and love and dance. There are answers in the changes we may make – in what we think is important and what is not, in what we think we need or must have, in what we choose to let go of.   “Make your life a message”, said Eknath Easwaren ( a disciple of Gandhi.)  The answers will be in how we live our lives, now.  As always, that is the call of the religious life.

Black History Month is not over yet.  Have you learned something new? Has your perspective shifted?  If you are still looking for a way to learn more, I have a few suggestions.  Look for these writers on Substack:  Dante Stewart (An American Thread), Robert P. Jones (White Too Long), and Jacqui Lewis (Fierce Love – especially “Dear Nice Whyte People.)   If you have learned something this month I’d be glad to hear about it. 

The writer Anne Applebaum calls what is happening in our country “regime change.”  That it has happened before in many times and places gives context but not comfort.  The question “what can we do?” feels both feeble and strong.  Like people before us, to the extent we can, we have to now figure out how to keep the flames of love and justice and compassion alive, within us and between us.

This week our justice teams will gather to talk with one another and all who are interested in the conversations.  What work is emerging in the areas we already work in  —  for example immigration and refugee support, equity/diversity/inclusion, and climate action?  What new areas will need our support now?   What do we need to learn?  I hope you’ll be part of the conversation.

Most of our shared values as Unitarian Universalists are at stake. We are the ones who have to carry the flame.  It is our watch now.  

As Unitarian Universalists we greatly value learning and growth. Rev. John W. Brigham, quoted in our hymnal “Singing the Living Tradition” captured this value well: “Go your ways, knowing not the answers to all things, yet seeking always the answer to one more thing than you know.” Our Transcendentalist ancestors called this process of learning and growth “self-cultivation” and they saw it as an essential part of the religious life. So the question “What do you know?” has significance for us.

Using it as a frame, or a prompt, for Black History Month, the questions could include these: What do you know about “The War Before the War?” What do you know about the Harlem Renaissance? The Combahee River Collective? The women of the civil rights movement? The work of Octavia Butler, or Audre Lourde, or Bayard Rustin? What do you know about Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Case for Reparations”? What do you know about the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, or the St. Luke Penny Savings Banks, or Black Wall Street? How many massacres of African Americans in American cities in the 1900’s can you name? The list goes on and on.

The larger question – the more important for our religious lives, is this: what difference does knowing or not knowing make? Especially now?

We enter into February, a month dedicated to love and to Black History, both of which are beautiful opportunities for daily practice. We enter into this particular February, in which both love and Black History are in danger, and at stake.

For Black History month, I begin by choosing two or three books to read, and I receive a daily lesson in Black history from an online newsletter called Anti-Racism Daily. For a month dedicated to love, I begin with a framework provided by Cornel West – his phrase that “Justice is what love looks like in public,” and I review my justice –related commitments and activities, aiming to help myself be accountable to my ideals, by reviewing and renewing those commitments, or making changes. These activities are closely related. I ask myself whether or not, and how, what I learn helps me change the way I live.

The religious life is not merely an intellectual exercise, not limited to discussion of religious, theological or political ideas. It is not simply a way to be with other people in a shallow or pseudo community. It is a daily practice of turning ever-more closely to living in right relations, which requires learning more about the truths of our own minds and thoughts, more about the truths of our relatedness to all others, more about the truths of how we are part of Life. It begins again each and every day, with awareness of the gifts of life and breath. It begins again each and every day as we undertake to learn one more thing than we know, which could move us closer to peace, to compassion, to justice. It begins every morning, as sunlight unfolds and spreads. As each day is given may we choose to be present, intentional and committed to learning and growing, that our lives may be a blessing.

The expected shift has happened this week in our country, and it feels like a tidal wave is moving. Already the lives and safety of so many people are at stake and in danger. It is a time to let go of many of our wants and needs, and build more courage and more skills for showing up for the values freedom, justice, peace, compassion, inclusion, sustainability and so much more. It is a time to remove obstacles to our flexibility and equanimity. It is time to let go of many expectations and entitlements, and consider anew what is important and what is not.

There will be many opportunities to raise our voices and be present with and for others, to sign on and join in and show up. We are need of a Rapid Response team, folks who are able and willing to help prioritize the many opportunities, according to our mission and goals. If you are interested in serving as part of such a team, please let me know as soon as you can.

Meanwhile, we are navigating the many changes in Fellowship life due to the renovation work. Details and questions arise every day! Who to ask? For room use reservations, please contact Priscilla Galasso, secretary@uufc.org. For renovation project questions, contact Brian Egan at uurep@uucorvallis.org. For questions on sharing space (especially use of the Social Hall and/or Kitchen on evenings or weekends) please contact Ginny Gibson.

As always, for any and all other questions, I am happy to respond as best I can. (minister@uucorvallis.org)

Thank-you to the many of you who have reached out with such kind and supportive words in response to the announcement of my coming retirement this summer. Now, in addition to the so many changes happening in the country and world, we also enter into a ministerial transition for the Fellowship. I hope this timing will in some ways be helpful for us all – we’ll need to focus on the strengths of our relationships and our shared commitments at a time when those are what’s most needed for us to face the world as well.

With the Board and the Committee on Ministry, I plan to be part of as many conversations as possible, with all who want to join in. While we figure out how to be present to the coming changes in our country and community, we’ll also be figuring out how to keep the Fellowship strong and capable and effective. That means keeping ourselves strong and capable and effective, because the Fellowship is only us – the people, who gather. And to be all those things we need to help and care for each other, and be helped and cared for.

Meanwhile, this week, the day of national change arrives. There are opportunities to gather – on Sunday night Jan. 19 at 7 PM to sing with Mark Weiss, Audrey Perkins and Cliff and Chere Pereira, and on Tuesday evening Jan. 21, at 6:30 PM on zoom to reflect together. How shall we live now? One day at a time, and in the service of our highest ideals. Let’s keep going.

In these winter days, which seem filled with catastrophes, there are also invitations. The invitations can be subtle, often silent, mostly missed while we’re hoping for something else. (That’s the thing to be aware of – we’re almost always hoping for something else.) Some of the invitations are always present: the invitation into silence, the invitation to trust, the invitation to be faithful, the invitation to live by generosity. Though always present, these invitations are particularly poignant in these hard days, it seems to me.

Some invitations are more particular to this season: the invitations of darkness and rest and remembering the gifts of cold and rain. The invitation to learn the lessons of fog and to hear messages in the calls of owls and the encouraging honking of geese. And what is an invitation? Maybe it’s a kind of greeting, sometimes a beckoning, like the slight opening of a door with some light shining through. An invitation can be a small voice speaking from your own understanding – from your own ideals, from a conviction you haven’t forgotten – not shouting (usually not), not criticizing, mostly trying to be kind.

The thing is, we’re always hoping for invitations, wishing to receive them, imagining the joy of an unexpected offer to join, to be seen, to be needed, or simply to come a little farther. And yet we miss so many that are present and calling, day after day.

Today, perhaps we can help ourselves by taking time to be quiet enough to imagine, and perhaps begin to hear, the voices of kindness and courage within us. Maybe we can close our eyes and relax into our breathing and begin to be aware of doors that are ready to be considered, possibly half-opened already, inviting us into places the world needs us to go.

I wrote this piece two years ago, at this exact time of year. It is helpful to me to re-read it. May it be helpful to you as well, in these early days of January 2025.

Years ago, I always started the morning listening to news. It seemed then the most prudent thing to do –- to know what was happening. It helped me feel secure in some way, and smart, and capable, as if it was a necessity for navigating the world, and for being recognized as an adult. Somewhere along the way, I stopped listening – I don’t remember exactly when or why. In some way I realized that “the news” was always the same – it was a very very small representation of what humans were doing from day to day. It was never the whole story.

Slowly I came to understand that there is news beyond the news – news before the news – that is much more important for me. It is the daily recognition of being alive and of being part of an infinite web of life. It is the daily presence of awareness, and an awareness of presence, which coincide with gratitude.

The news of the day in early January often begins with this: the tops of the hills are appearing and disappearing as clouds and fog slowly drift. There is a pink tinge above and suddenly a huge flock of geese in several interchanging “V”s moving across. Small patches of blue sky, and the bare branches of trees in clear and intricate detail. The tops of the hills appear again and both gold and pink light emerge in the fog around them. The air is cold and clean and heavily moist. It is within me and around me, in constant life-giving motion. I am breathing, being breathed, and amazed again to be both here and now.

Thomas Merton once wrote “You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith and hope.” Embrace is the appropriate word for me this morning – and there is too much for my small embrace, but I open my arms wide nonetheless. With courage, faith and hope comes joy. And that’s more than enough news.

The feeling that is most with me in the midst of these holidays/holy days is to be careful. To be full of care. This is most certainly not a time to be frivolous, yet it is a time to nurture joy. How can we do both? By being full of care as we consider what is most important and what is not. Care for the earth, care for people everywhere, care for all the other living things. Care reflected in what we buy, what we waste, what we kill or destroy in the process, what we consume at the expense of others. What gifts can we give, when so many are in need of the basics – beginning with safety and shelter? Maybe this year, in this season we might begin to understand that joy is related to what we are willing and able to take care of, to give care to. In the beautiful darkness of these solstice days, with Christmas coming, may we give attention to what we care for and why, and move ourselves toward a loving carefulness.