Change

A sermon offered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lafayette
By Rev. Hilary Landau Krivchenia
September 2, 2001

Readings

John Schaar said:

The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created--created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creatinsg. The paths are not to be found, but made, and the activity of making them, changes both the maker and the destination.

Isaac Asimov wrote:

It is change, continuing change, inevitable change, that is the dominant factor in society today. No sensible decision can be made any longer without taking into account not only the world as it is, but the world as it will be.... This, in turn, means that our statesmen, our businessmen, every person must take on a creative way of thinking. Isaac Asimov

And this poem by William Stafford:

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

Before I was called by this congregation I read a wonderful book called A Natural History of Indiana – and when I first spoke here on a Sunday I talked about the natural forces that had shaped this area millennia ago – when glaciers moved through here and slowly carved the river and rolled flat the prairies. Deep, slow change. That’s why when change occurs slowly some people say "it’s glacial" not so much meaning chilly – but slow. But today we’re ages after the ending of the Ice Age – we’ve even entered a time of Global Warming – maybe people far in the future will call this the Warming Age – if we survive it. No, we’re not in the Ice Age anymore – and the environment of change in which we live is anything but glacial – it is swift. It is time … to talk about change.

We have always lived with change -- Heraclitus -- who lived around the same time as the Buddha – was right – nothing endures but change. Change is our constant. It has always been the ground of existence. The cells in our bodies renew constantly. Our children change. Season’s change. Our bodies age. Change is the ground of existence and yet so often, when it comes it feels like a disruption in life, a rupture in the way things should be. When change pushes it seems that often there is a part of us that wants to push back. Uh-uh – you better not change me!

Did you ever have a teenager who learned to drive? Now that’s a life changing experience. But really there is so much change that we face. We are creatures with bodies, habits, possessions, and attachments. We are beset by change. On the other side of the world from Heraclitus, the ancient I Ching said Change is certain. But, oh, how we fight it!

We worry when the teenager learns to drive the car – I mean -- when I learned to drive it was all about my freedom – my power and exhilaration at the wheel – it was about excitement. At my best, I can feel that for my teenager. But other times there is some suspicion that this will change my life too – it’s not just my worry for her – but my worry for me. Another example is the grief that we feel the day we drop a child off at kindergarten the first time. Dropping him off at college. Moving into a new house. Starting a new job. Having someone else rearrange the furniture. Getting bifocals. Finding a moving van on my street. Finding a grey hair. We know that these things happen but, when they come, they somehow jolt us out of an illusion of stability. I know that no matter how much those first gray hairs bother a person the botherment changes nothing – except that the gray hair, which could be a sign of dignity and wisdom, a sign of experience and endurance is emptied of that positive meaning. What was that old commercial – grow old gracefully? No – I’m fighting every step of the way. Well, okay then – but that’s one losing battle.

Why not embrace the natural changes of living and find some peace amid the changes? In part we have this trouble because we can only see the past and not the future-- as the Joni Mitchell song says, "behind from where we came." Or as the country music song says – we have 20/20 vision looking back. But this still seems strange because we really are made of changes and we are made for change in a world of changefulness. We are like sail boats fighting the wind instead of using it to propel us into the sea we love – the sea of life. Zen philosopher Shunryu Suzuki said: "Without accepting the fact that everything changes, we cannot find composure. But unfortunately, although it is true, it is difficult for us to accept it. We suffer."

One of the pleasures of my trip to Concord was in seeing places which were set apart from the passage of time – saved from too much change. I admit that there is some part of me – and I sure felt it there – that would like to find a warp in the space/time continuum and go back to some time in the past. I felt that there. Well, while I was there in Concord enjoying lunch at the Colonial Inn with my friend, a woman dressed in mid-nineteenth century garb came up to our table and introduced herself as Louisa May Alcott. We had a warm conversation about her writing schedule and about her recovery from Typhus during the time she was tending soldiers in the Civil War – the medical treatment – calomel – had nearly killed her and ruined her health. After a while we siuad goodbye and Miss Alcott wandered off to another table and got her picture taken with a couple of children.

But sometime later she returned. Approaching me and my friend as a couple of "kindred spirits" she said, she’d like to ask for our help. She was missing her friends, she said – Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, Mr. Thoreau, the Hawthornes, not to mention her own family – she hadn’t seen them for a long time. And the town itself – there was no one she recognized. She hated to complain she said – but she was quite lonely. We responded sympathetically, that it sounded terrible. She said yes, it had caused her some unrest. Would we, she asked, please keep a look out for her dear friends, neighbors and family and tell them that she was looking for them?

Well, I’m standing here now in a relatively rational mind and I know that we were talking with a local actor. I mean, I know it wasn’t really Miss Alcott. But I just didn’t know what to say to her. In my head I rapidly rehearsed the words "My dear Miss Alcott, please sit down. There is something I must tell you – it’s not 1863 anymore – it’s the year 2001. I’m so very sorry." But I couldn’t say it out loud -- I was deep in the scene. What a wretched shock it would be. A shock she’d guarded herself from for more than a century.

We can be so much like her – I suppose that accounted for my great sympathy – perhaps I would rather be left with my illusion that change is not the ground of being. but it is – there is a wonderful commercial on PBS that I saw recently – in the background is a Beatles song – Across the Universe. And while the song plays there are pictures of animals moving and living and periodically the screen flashes questions – why run? Why jump? Why play? Why change? And in the background the fab four sing

Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world

But the punch line comes when the word evolution flashes across the screen. Of course – everything is gonna change the world. That’s a more realistic mantra. Everything is gonna change the world. How can we become more comfortable with change – if it is indeed our nature? It is. Sounds difficult but then life is a challenging proposition – still it beats the alternative. We are made for evolution – part of an ongoing cycle of creation and change, creation and change – it is life. In fact, the alternative is death. I mean those things which are unalterable in time aren’tt living. Things, people, places, beliefs, ideas – these things change.

So how do we manage this? How to make peace with change? On the front cover of the order of service there are two pictures – one of someone whose papers are blown by the wind. The other of a windmill. Easier said than done but I think that the key to living with change is becoming like the windmill: finding your ground, knowing it, standing firm upon it and knowing that the wind will blow away the inessentials -- letting the wind – change – become an ally – letting the wind turn your blades and generate energy – great energy. Or perhaps the windmill is too fixed. To often we cling to things which we have really outgrown, which are habits – which used to work and do not work any more and are trapped. Perhaps a more healthy response to change is more like a sail boat that keeps a good internal balance and moves with the pressure of the wind partnered with the wisdom of the compass. Free, lively, risk taking, balanced, directed.

The trick is to know your best direction – to know what it is that you really value and why. To find the center, the compass point – and those things which are changeable. To know the direction in which life grows.

Like our hymn – written lyrics and melody by Unitarian Universalists –

Seek the essence, hold the essence, let the essence carry me. Let me flower, help me flower, watch me flower, carry me. In the spirit, by the spirit, with the spirit giving power I will find true harmony.

Watch me flower.

I know that my daughter will be a driver – it’s her turn. I know that physical caution and love of life are values I can pass on to her for. My peace will come from knowing that I have offered those values and given her the freedom I have desired. Freedom tempered by wisdom. It’s the best that I can do. Different only in degree from dropping the child off at kindergarten.

So, a first step is accepting that life is change. I think that the next step might be learning to trust that each person, each one of us is born with sails to catch the wind (though they can be torn by time and need mending), and finally the step is to learn and know the direction in which life moves and grows – or blows. There is a peace that can be found in the midst of change when we learn to honor the deepest principles -- the compass -- and learn to live with life as it really is. I believe that this is possible. I, myself, struggle with this, but I believe that this is possible. Furthermore, what I suspect is that finer things are revealed – better manifestations of the points of the compass. When I let my daughter go out and drive – when I give her the keys instead of denying her the freedom – when I let her change – or let myself change – or let something around me change – not in grudging and fear but in generosity – in generosity – then wondrous new things begin. Perhaps she shows up with positive friends, or helps the family, and inevitably she goes further out and finds new meaning in her life and is more fulfilled and I see that beauty unfold before me. And that only goes as far as I have anything to do with it – there is a world of peers, the universe of television, the larger culture.

And that leads me back to Miss Alcott. I wanted so much, immersed in the theater of the moment, to protect her from the truth. During that very long time that she had protected herself from the shock of the loss of her family, friends, and neighbors, quite a bit else had changed. What a shock also to come to terms also with the transformation of your world. Yes, Concord is a bit of an island: of period homes, and ancient shops, we were dining in a nineteenth century restaurant. But she must have noticed my Palm Pilot sitting on the table. I’d transferred my favorites of Emerson’s essays onto it and we had read passages aloud over lunch. And what about that camera she’d had her picture snapped with? Not to mention the electric lights. Still in the grip of the moment -- I felt afraid to point the change out to her. Since Miss Alcott’s death in 1888 the world had changed enormously – quickly, and the rate of change grows fast and faster. I do not think that I need to take time for a litany of the changes marvelous and terrible that have come to us in the 20^th century – and the changes dawning in the 21^st. We know what they are – science, warfare, technology, boundaries, communications, communities, the environment.

Our world and our lives are impinged upon by forces germinated long ago which have grown in power. Change is not always for the better – there are so many things which are newer but not always improved. There is a difference between the changes of vital living – vitality – the cycles and evolutions and thoughtful visions and changes -- and the very different rapacious changes wrought by the mindless marketplace and the conflict ridden human soul. A minute’s worth of television reveals this. It is tempting to drop anchor and stay put -- Why change? Because we do, because we must. How to change -- that is a question and a process more complex.

How do you open your sails in times like this? To ignore the changes in the world is to live in Miss Alcott’s fantasy world – the only real hope for interior peace – or peace in the world for that matter – is to live in the present with which we are all stuck – even in Concord. There must always be an interrelationship between reality and deeper values – a marriage – other wise you end up with dangerous and often oppressive utopianism instead of powerful and healing utopianism -- but that’s another sermon. I think that to navigate the changing nature of life we come to places like this – places where we can be reminded of our core values, places where we are given support in times of world shifts – personal shifts, global shifts. And we – we who believe that revelation is not sealed – that even the truth is born afresh – we who believe this need a place where we can endure the changing nature of revelation as well as changeful nature of life – in companionship, in support, in covenant. This place is a harbor in some ways – but perhaps it as much a compass – a place that allows each one of us to navigate in that sea we love – and sometimes fear – the sea of life. This is a place that we come so that we will choose to be guided by our hopes and visions and not our fears and habits. When I hear that hymn – help me flower, carry me – I think of the person singing to the congregation – watch me flower – carry me – and singing of the covenant that helps us to flower – of the principles and our own compasses that guide our direction each in our own lives. That is the spirit. The wind in the sails, the compass in the ship. The covenant of love between us.

We turn to these places to ground us amid that change but even these places do and must change. And then we are like Miss Alcott – wandering in a revolutionized world. I believe that there is great hope and renewed life in these changes but let’s face them first. One of the simpler changes is that we are growing again. More complex was your calling of a minister to bridge the congregation through a growing season and to nurture a grown church that serves the local community and the world. More complex than that are the program changes that follow from all these decisions -- all of the challenge that is unleashed when congregations have to talk about support for growth, commitment, membership, pledging, leadership development, organizational maturity. And all of this within a context of the changing face of Unitarian Universalism – the movement toward a spirituality married to reason, the stretch toward greater diversity, the influx of new members unchurched in the past – unscarred by religion and seeking spiritual life and community in a free and reasoned context. Seeking ethical and spiritual grounding for their kids. Finally, these new members are seeking something new in church – a richer worship experience than we were seeking even ten years ago. Interestingly, two nights ago at the youth lock-in the youth group was talking about doing an evening worship service and doing more of their own worship in their group. One said "We are the future of Unitarian Universalism. We need to begin to find out how we want to worship. It may not be same as now." It won’t be. So we sit here by our own doing and because of our world – we sit here in a sea of changes.

Two weeks ago I mentioned that Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says, the river of life is deep and rough – all too easily we can sink in despair -- we need community to stay afloat. Not to stay still – but to keep sailing – or, if you will forgive me for mixing my metaphors – to flower – if we want to flower where we are planted we need a new plan for self-cultivation – the old growing plan won’t work. So the biggest change we face is not any of the above listed changes but that we must respond to them to stay alive and vibrant. How to bring real intimacy into a growing congregation? How to connect people? How to make worship deep, nourishing, and safe in growing numbers? How to support the programs of the church? How to cultivate leadership? It’s okay – take a deep breath – this is a gift – not a burden – this is the fertile field and the pouring rain. Lyle Schaller – in his book Discontinuity and Hope – about the challenges facing today’s churches -- says that we have to ask ourselves this question when faced with the challenge of change – do you see this as a source of hope or despair? Despair -- not discomfort – we are not simply here for comfort – we are here to serve, we are here to flower, we are here to embody our principles and our covenant with one another and with the world. Are these challenges a source of hope or despair? Feeling the challenge means that we are alive this place is alive – we are connected with the world, with our dreams and visions, with our strengths. Schaller says whether you see these challenges as as a source of hope or despair will be determined by whether or not you see yourself as living under the threat of change or looking forward eagerly in the hope of change. I believe that everywhere here we are endeavoring to look forward eagerly.

Last Spring I talked about the congregation as a learning community – and this is the key – learning is the way that humans stay vibrant – alive – growing. Not by having our patterns and ideas reset in concrete week after week – rather that we are challenged and grow week after week – welcomed yes, nourished yes, comforted, yes, but challenged to be alive. Eric Hoffer said: "In a time of great change it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists." While I know that many here are learned – that is not the key to the future – for learned is to be in the past tense. But to be relaxed about the future is to keep learning in the present. To be able to do as Victor Hugo said to "Change your opinions, keep to your principles; change your leaves, keep intact your roots."

I want to share with you a powerful memory I have from May of last year. When I drove back here with my family after the congregation called me. As we left the car I could hear singing from the sanctuary. And what you were singing awed me – scared me and made me feel at home – it called up to me all of the change of the last ten years of my life, all of the change ahead of me, of the change that I knew this congregation had faced, and all that we would face together.

Not really very different than the challenges we face in our individual lives – but here we have one another – sometimes at our best – sometimes not. We are naturally made for change – creatures of evolution, of growing, of flowering, of thorns and beauty – reaching for something nourishing beneath us around us -- within us. I know this rose will open. I know my fear will burn away. I know my soul will unfurl its wings, I know this rose will open.

It is a lot of change – driven by us and by the world around us.

We have to build supports into the church to carry us to help us flower – to let us flower --

Wondering where the world we knew has vanished to.

Manifestation --

Somos el barco, somos el mar – Yo navego en ti, tu navegas en mi – we are the boat, we are the sea, I sail in you sail in me.

Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.

William James (1842 - 1910)

With our hopes we raise the sails to face the winds once more
And with our hearts we chart the waters never sailed before.