Choices that Matter

A Sermon offered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lafayette, Indiana

On July 15, 2007

By Beverly Seese

            Three weeks ago today I was sitting in the Oregon Convention Center in downtown Portland, in the midst of nearly 6000 Unitarian Universalists attending this year’s General Assemble. I was waiting for a worship service to start and thought I’d try to calculate the number of sermons I’ve heard during my lifetime.  There aren’t a lot of Sunday mornings that I haven’t been sitting in church with a congregation of like-minded folks, listening to words that have been thoughtfully put together like the pieces of a complex puzzle in an attempt to create a meaningful picture of our life in relationship to “those things for which we have no certain answers.”  I calculated a possibility of some “two thousand seven hundred thirty” sermons if I had made it to church every week.  I’m thinking that several canceled services on snowy wintry mornings, and those Sunday mornings during my college years when I stayed in bed dreaming , have been more than made up this past winter when I heard an average of five sermons a week during the preaching class I took, as well as all the extras I participated in at General Assembly last  month.  At GA, which is our Unitarian Universalist Association’s annual version of a huge family reunion, attendees have the opportunity to get a generous helping of sermons.  “Choices That Matter” was the theme of this year’s assembly and we certainly had many choices available when it came to worship services.  There were 4 or 5 happening at different times each day with various focuses.  There was a short service each morning for the early risers, many of whom have been going strong all the previous day attending workshops and training events and lectures till late into the night.  There was a full-blown service each evening and at 11:30 on Sunday morning with specific themes of “Finding a voice for positive change in our society,” “Honoring our religious leaders,” “Gathering together for grieving and celebration,” and one just for making music together.  There are also the late night services specifically for youth and  young adults.  Julia, my daughter who most of you know, also attended GA as one of our congregation’s delegates this year, and she enjoyed participating in several of those services.

            One might think that I have heard enough sermons; that there isn’t anything new that someone could say that would make me need to come back for another church service.  But I do come back, and I will continue coming back, fully expecting that I will feel fed and grateful as I’m listening to sermon number 2731. 

            As president of our church’s board this year I attended the Congregational Presidents workshop where our Unitarian Universalist Association’s President, William Sinkford, and this year’s moderator for the association, Gini Courter, were leading the session.  They presented what they claimed to be the two most important challenges that our churches face; growth and anti-racism, anti-oppression work, and how these two issues are interrelated.  President Sinkford stated that there are thousands of people yearning for a church like ours, with people who will welcome them despite their differences and include them in the work of peacemaking through multiculturalism.  He encouraged us to turn our churches from a “closed friendly group” to an open, welcoming, community institution that promotes antiracism, anti-classism, anti-oppression, and multiculturalism.  There were many ideas discussed about how this work can be done and I hope to be able to share what I learned with the Greeting and Membership committee and the Social Justice committee in the coming months.  I believe we have a good start on these challenges here in Lafayette, but you can probably all agree with me that there is much more we need to do.  President Sinkford ended his remarks at that session with his dream for all congregations             … .that we approach our life together out of "a desire to work toward the goal of beloved community where all are worthy and all are welcomed."

One week up at Meadville Lombard, our theological school in Chicago where I’m attending classes, one of the youngest students in that preaching class I was in used forgiveness as the theme of his sermon.  His words offered me a concept to consider that was strikingly novel.  Jason suggested that forgiveness re-personalizes someone, who for some reason of disagreement or sense of being harmed by, you have held for a period of time, in a depersonalized status in your mind.  It was exciting to “try on” this idea and see how it fit into my mental network of understanding: forgiveness re-personalizing someone you have depersonalized.  I like being guided to think about relationships in new ways.  I like hearing about the lives and experiences of other people and the way they handle the struggles and questions they encounter on their paths.  I like hearing sermons!

But that’s just part of the reason you will find me here most Sundays.  The music, the beautiful flowers, and the wide assortment of age and life stages of the other people, all add to my positive experience of this time together.  But what compels me to do this week after week?  Why is it so satisfying?  Why do I make this choice?  What wasn’t I getting somewhere else that made me feel that I needed to seek out a new church community seven years ago?

It’s risky to insert yourself into a group of people where you don’t know anyone.  I experienced major waves of anxiety as I walked into this church for the first time.  I acted brave for my two children who came with me; for some reason thinking a “good” mother should try to hide her fear.  My past satisfying relationships with congregations made this adventure somewhat easier for me.  I was comforted by the knowledge that the established members and friends of most churches usually looked favorably on a new family with children.  I can only imagine the amount of courage it takes for people of other circumstances to decide to join us on a Sunday morning.

On that first day I drove thirty minutes, located the building, parked and then came inside to check out my first Sunday morning service at this church.  One of the things that helped me feel I was in the right place was the banner that always hangs up here on this front wall of the sanctuary.  Early in the service we were invited to recite together these words that I know now are a part of every Sunday morning service here:

   Love is the spirit of this church, And service is it’s law.

          This is our covenant:

     To dwell together in peace, To seek the truth in love,

       And to help one another.

When I heard those words, said in an encircling unison by this congregation as part of the service’s opening, I thought, “Wow, these folks have really set some mighty unattainable goals for themselves. . . . . . . But I liked the direction that you were pointed.

I first visited here in the fall when this church had just hired a recent seminary graduate for its new minister; although she, Hilary, wasn’t even speaking that day.  There was a guest speaker, named Jim Scott, who planned and carried out most of the service by himself.  I enjoyed the music and the humor that was shared during the service and the manner in which the ideas were presented during the sermon.  It seemed like a friendly group of people. 

One other things that made me want to come back was the way people like Marty Becker and the Ferrises, Don and Ruth Ann, greeted me and helped me to feel welcome.  And that feeling has never gone away.  At times when I am thinking about how “I” can be more welcoming, I check myself against the example that is continually set for me by these three people and many others in their own ways.

Before long I had joined the choir and attended a series of classes to learn more about this denomination that I had been guided to by my sister.  She knew about my struggles at my previous church, and knowing a bit more about Unitarian Universalism than my complete unfamiliarity, and thought I might find a congregation that was more receptive to my beliefs.  Within a year I was asked to serve on the Worship and Music Committee for the church. . . .  I received generous amounts of encouragement and affirmation for my participation with this congregation.  I felt like I had found a place where I could search and grow in my understanding of my spiritual existence.                          

I am now a steadfast member of this church because I have been made to feel that my gifts and talents are of some real value to this community of people.  I feel respected and appreciated.  I feel “backed up”.  I feel like I am seen and accepted with all my baggage, and all my imperfections.  I feel humanized. 

I don’t hold with the expression, “I’m only human.”. . .  When people use that phrase, they’re usually about to make an excuse for doing something they aren’t real proud of.  This seems to belittle the state of being human.  Being human is a sacred condition.  To have life and to function as a human entity is miraculous.  Through the millennia of human experience no one has ever been able to fully explain our ability to think and move and feel.  Any opportunity to be more in tune with the meaning and purpose of this perfectly miraculous existence is something that I desire.  My experience throughout my life has been that I feel the most “human” when I am in community with people at church.   I think its something like the idea Jason shared about re-personalizing through forgiveness.  When I am traveling along my life journey together with all of you; when I feel surrounded by caring partners; when I allow the protective turtle-shell-like barrier I build around myself to open up, and I poke my head out and honestly engage with other people, I am humanized.  If I am willing to authentically participate in this kind of intimate religious community, I experience personal growth and moments of satisfying connection. . . . . . . .  In addition to these moments, I find that there are also times of conflict and discouragement as we knock into one another and our hard, jagged edges get bumped and bruised.  But if we are open to the change that can happen here, if we are consistent in carefully making choices that really do matter, we will notice that each of us is being gradually sanded down to our smooth, warm and loving, essential humanity.  And because of this process of humanizing that improves our vision, softens our hearts, and strengthens our resolve, we are equipped and better able to risk loving, helping, seeking truth, and taking unpopular stands for things we believe in beyond these walls.  We are better able to “dwell together in peace, seek the truth in love, and help one another,” as our covenant says. 

Through this community process of being made more wholly human, we are able to reach out to others beyond our church and our community, connecting to all the people of this nation and of the world to experience a most wonderful human existence.

Last January I made a choice to attend a community training-event being offered to anyone interested in learning about non-violent resistance.  I came away having had a profoundly moving experience.  I wasn’t anticipating or prepared for a simple workshop to have such a dramatic impact on me.  This wasn’t a worship service per se or a covenant group meeting, and yet it felt afterward that both worship and covenant had occurred.  It was a unique experience for me and I was left with a profound sense of wonder.

            My interest was piqued when I heard about this training opportunity because of my experience growing up as a member of the Church of the Brethren; one of the three “historic peace churches,” the other two being Quakers (sometimes called Friends) and Mennonites.  Through the years I’ve known many people who called themselves pacifists, and I’ve been involved in many discussions about using other than violent means to achieve social change and to help solve conflicts.  I’ve gone to peace marches… rallies at nuclear power plants... I’ve written to my government representatives concerning my opposition to expanding military budgets… and for years my husband withheld payment of a telephone tax directed specifically toward paying off war expenses.  So it seems somewhat ironic that I have never participated in an official non-violence, civil disobedience training of any kind. 

            Since I had no other commitments on that particular evening I planned to attend.  The session began with a short clip from a video about the non-violence training techniques that were used during the civil rights struggle of the 1960s in the southeastern states of our country.  Then, there was discussion time… and role playing activities,  . . . . but the most memorable part of the evening for me was unplanned.

            One of the presenters, who I will call Jake, had a profound stutter.  I have never been in the presence of someone with this speech pattern and so it took a few moments to understand what was happening the first time he tried to express himself.  He just couldn’t get out the words that his conscious mind was trying to communicate.  Initially, I wondered if I should assist by coaching him with the words I thought he was struggling for… … .I wondered if others would intercede.  My mind was scrambling for balance.  The norms of expected communication style were being broken.  I expected that Jake would start to feel awkward, or frustrated, or embarrassed.  I wondered if others who didn’t know Jake were getting anxious or perturbed.  It seemed that his co-leader might have been having some of these same feelings, for finally he supplied a word that seemed to help Jake finish expressing his thought… …

At least two other times during the workshop, this whole group of about twenty people, many of whom were strangers to one another, waited quietly and patiently for over a minute for Jake to get one simple important point communicated, and no further word cues were given by his co-leader.  It was a most remarkable experience.  I couldn’t believe we were in such sync with one another.  Jake seemed unruffled each time he finished making his halting contribution.  Our communal patience was for me both calming and comforting and by the third occurrence, seemed to form us into a loving, supportive community.  We were strangers to one another, but there was acceptance and patience with the uniqueness of this member of our group.

Call me naïve, but I believe that night I was allowed to experience a momentary snapshot of the kind of world we are able to help create if we are deliberate and mindful in making the choices that matter.  It’s an idealist viewpoint, optimistic and romantic.  But how can we do the work we as a Unitarian Universalist congregation are preparing for, with any other approach?  How can we here in Lafayette, Indiana, be willing to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to get moved into a bigger building except that we believe that by so doing we will be more able to work to build relationships and understandings between people of many different beliefs and traits.

If we are willing to make the choices that really matter we will generate many little “unplanned moments” that happen when we least expect them as we live in community with one another.  You’ve all had them, peak experiences, like my evening at that training workshop…  Something as unexpected as Jake’s stutter afforded a group of strangers the opportunity to experience a “sacred” connection.

Or the Sunday afternoon that my husband, Carl, took a call from Noemi, one of our congregants, who had run out of gas between Logansport and our house.  We made a choice.  We jumped in the car with our gas can and after 15 minutes found her parked near a horse corral peacefully listening to music.  The sense of connection and rightness with the world was rich. . . . . These examples are small and similar to experiences all of you have probably had.  Each of us has unnumbered opportunities each day to choose between holding back or reaching out in love and acceptance.  As a Unitarian Universalist Congregation we can foster loving behavior.  We can provide our community with a vision and an example.  If we are secure in our purpose, good thing will follow.

I am an idealist.  I do believe in our ability to improve the world by our current work and that which we are preparing to do.  I am glad to be part of a church that welcomes all members of the community, that feeds the homeless, that supports women’s rights to make the choices about their bodies, that participates in community walks to raise money for many worthy purposes.  I was glad to represent our congregation at General Assembly knowing that we are continuing the work and making the “choices that matter” to provide loving care and inspiration to this world in each situation that we find ourselves.                     I thank you for your faith in my gifts of leadership and for the congregation’s help with some of the expense of getting to G.A. to participate in the process that helps guide our national Association’s policies and “choices.” 

Closing Words

After the first Plenary session ended at G.A., Moderator Gini Courter turned over the microphone to President Sinkford, who gave the benediction to end the Opening Celebration.  Now I pass his words on to you "May our coming together be a blessing:  a blessing to us, a blessing to our congregations (community), and a blessing to the world."