From the Minister

In our Inquirer’s Series – the after-Sunday-service sessions designed for newcomers (and everyone else too)– one of the sessions is devoted to learning about the “Liturgical Year” of the Fellowship.  The idea of “liturgy” (which is most commonly defined as “the work of the people”) comes from our Christian roots where it refers to both the order of service for Sunday worship and the annual calendar of holidays and holy days. Unitarian Universalism does not have an official liturgical calendar, though some celebrations are widely shared among congregations – for example the Czech Flower Ceremony, the Joining of the Waters, and National Pride Month.

In my own liturgical year, two of the most important days are the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr, and the holiday which remembers it. (This year they are the same day).  I was only ten years old when King was killed: I still have strong memories of his face and voice on television, and the scenes of his funeral. When I became a student for UU ministry, I began to read his collected sermons and writings, and I have been doing so ever since.  I imagine that I will continue to study his life and work for the rest of my life. 

Martin Luther King, Jr. was born in 1929.  If he had lived, he would have been 95 years old. He was murdered 56 years ago, at the age of 39. How different would our country have been, would we all be, if he had lived this long?  We have now been observing his birthday as a holiday for 38 years – nearly as long as his short life.  So much has changed since his death, and so much has hardly changed as all.  Washington Post writer Perry Bacon, Jr noted last year that “the protests after the murder of George Floyd led to a society-wide rethinking of America’s policies toward Black Americans, but not much policy change.”  In truth, the justice King advocated, and died for, remains elusive too much of the time. 

The annual observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. day is an opportunity for learning and contemplation of where we’ve come from and where we’re going, in this particular history, this specific tragedy of American racism. A day to listen again to his words and the words of others and to acknowledge our own lives within this history, which includes right now.  What will we do with this day, for the promise which still calls?  What can we do, beginning now?      

In 1966 King wrote:  “Our goal is to create a beloved community and this will require a qualitative change in our souls as well as a quantitative change in our lives.”  May this be a year in which we  see  changes in our souls, in ourselves, and in the communities we are part of, including the Fellowship.  Let us begin again.  

There are many levels of wisdom in an annual calendar: for example the recognition of being part of a universe, on a planet orbiting a star in a regular pattern, and the recognition of seasons within particular earthly ecosystems, and the recognition that we can assess our lives and create new intentions. All of these movements affect how we live. At the very least, they help us remember that we are in constant motion, always being moved.

Within these continual cycles, we can consciously move ourselves toward what I’ll call spiritual maturity. This movement is a combination of continual action and reflection – a process of continual learning. Learning to be less fearful and more courageous, less judgmental and more respectful, less self-centered and more aware of others, less reactive and more curious. These movements require intention and dedication. 

A new year, according to whichever calendar is used, is always a chance to reflect, learn, and begin again. To see ourselves in new ways within the much larger patterns and cycles we are made of – as part of the universe, part of the seasons, part of a species, part of a community – inextricably related to all that is. We can learn to tell bigger stories about who we are – stories that are deeper, both older and newer, more detailed, and more true in terms of our relatedness and how we have been shaped. What new stories are unfolding within us and around us this year? What will we learn, and how will we grow? Perhaps we can begin with this, from Sr. Mary Goergen, OSF:  “We are called to live with the knowledge and awareness that we are part of all that is and that our decisions have an effect on the quality of life for all beings. We are called to live this connectedness that exists between all members of creation… We are called to remember loveliness for one another until each of us can remember, believe and live in love.”

Once again we are blessed by the possibilities of new beginnings. May we help each other move forward.

It’s a beautiful Willamette Valley winter day – a mixture of rain and sun, dark clouds and blue sky, herons, rainbows, full and rushing rivers. The orbit of the earth shifted last night – the longest night – and we have entered into the time of lengthening days, tiny bit by tiny bit. It’s the height of the Christmas season – hustle and bustle sounds too calm to describe the traffic and crowds (and nothing can quite describe the amounts of “stuff” piled flowing out of stores into homes.) The old familiar story of Christmas is waiting to be told in just a few days.  As with all old familiar stories, there is much more to it than we assume. It is a gateway, a window into human needs and fears, triumphs and shortcomings still accurate after all these millenia.  

This year seems especially hard for allowing ourselves to enjoy holidays; to be joyful can feel like denying the truths of suffering and hardship which are so present in this world in danger from greed, power, and war, among other things. The danger is real, of course, and cannot be denied. And yet, and yet. The beauty of the turning earth cannot be denied either. The possibilities for love, for understanding and compassion, for letting go of entitlement, for reaching out to others, for being peacemakers and lovers and helpers and friends are always present – always present within us and between us. They are never far away. Even today, with all its complications, everywhere I go people are giving good wishes to others.  “Happy Holidays.” “Merry Christmas.” “Best wishes.”

The calendar of days will come to an end soon, and then we’ll begin again, as we always do. May we pause to give thanks for all the gifts of life as we are carried through the universe on this spinning earth. May we give good wishes, and have goodwill, for all we meet, including ourselves! May we renew our determination to be peacemakers, friends, companions and helpers, so to make this season of peace and goodwill real.  

For each and every one of you – may the days of this season be beautiful. I’m sending love to you all –    Jill

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In ancient Chinese practices, there was recognition that peace begins in the closest place – within each human heart and mind. “If there is to be in the world, there must be peace in the nations. If there is to be peace in the nations, there must be peace in the homes. If there is to be peace in the homes, there must be peace in the people.” This wisdom has been understood through generations in almost every culture, yet, we forget — we forget. Forgetting has become our cultural habit, distracted and limited as we are by stuff and ego, anxiety and fear. We should be careful, and thoughtful, about our words and deeds in this season of holidays. If we are going to sing about peace, we must first consider and contemplate how much peace we are nurturing in our own hearts, and how much peace we are creating in our relationships. If we are going to celebrate the balance of light and dark, day and night, we must consider and contemplate how well we move between the two – how much we understand the necessity of both. If we hope for the accomplishment of “goodwill to all” we have to start with our own families and neighborhoods.

Has it ever been harder to cultivate peace and goodwill? Perhaps not, and yet we are not the only humans to be alive amidst war and strife. Perhaps this is why the old admonishments feel so welcome, and so comforting. Once again, we are invited to begin again. May this then be our practice, our observance of the holidays and holy days, our celebration of the season: to find peace in the gift of every breath, to let that peace move through us and into the world as love and respect, as consideration for the well-being of all. Yes, it’s hard, yet nothing is more needed. May we hear the invitations, and may we begin again.

Sending love to you all in this season of great possibilities –   Jill

Can you imagine that each season, as it arrives, brings with it a welcome? A welcome to the world as it is, in this particular season, at this particular time. Can you imagine being welcomed into winter, for example. What might it look like and feel like to know yourself welcomed by winter?

We could start with the soft grayness of the sky and hills, especially after rain – a softness which doesn’t move one to cover their eyes, but to quiet just a little and breathe in the fresh moistness. And the clouds – the variable and moving clouds, especially those that settle in to hug the fields and the valleys between the hills, like blankets. The darkness of course, with its invitations to rest, to reflect, to contemplate, to sleep, to keep covers on for longer each morning. And the stars – when the clouds part in the night sky, and stars can be seen even through the bare branches of trees. And here in this valley, at the edges of hills and woods, owls, who converse around the neighborhood as night begins and as morning begins as well. Don’t forget the cold – the breath of the north, the bringer of snow and ice and their unique expressions of beauty.

Can we allow ourselves to feel this welcome, to be welcomed, a few times a day, and to understand the welcome as generosity – the generosity of the turning earth, of the waxing and waning seasons. A generosity of variety, of breadth and depth of life, of life beyond our expectations. And if we can imagine this welcoming generosity, then might we ourselves become part of the welcome, part of the generosity, as a practice of understanding what we are part of? The season offers us all of this. All that’s needed from us is to enter in, with gratitude. May we feel the welcome of winter as a season of generosity, and may we respond with generous hearts and minds to spread the welcome to all who are in need of it.