In the Attics of My Life

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Some nights I sit in my home office to write. I might be writing a sermon or even a blog post. Sometimes my fingers hover ever so motionlessly over the keys of my keyboard. Some days I lack inspiration. Growing up, when this happened I went to the hymnal. The hymnal was full of so many subjects ordered in a way that spoke, in song, directly to my spirit. A hymn is defined as “a song of praise, or a religious song; a synonym might be canticle, or carol.”

Early in my practice as a chaplain I noticed more songs beginning to fill the place of hymn in my mind. More and more, I found that music spoke to me in a different language and very much, a different voice. Even in my home my habit of listening to music has become very much a practice. I recently pulled my vinyl records and I would sit to listen to them in whole, without break; not as background music but the foreground of life. I have started the spiritual practice of chronicling this procedure–writing down my experience.

I notice that when I need inspiration my fingers walk over the tops of my records and often stop at one in particular. I take that record and often place it is on its “B” side. Then the sound of the Grateful Dead’s American Beauty overtakes me. I close my eyes, open my ears not just to the words, but the music and the harmony.

And we sing together–the record and me:

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were you own?
– Robert Hunter (The Grateful Dead)

This song speaks to me–not just because it is AMAZING but also because I have an emotional connection to a specific human being that is forged forever in this song. He has long passed, but this song provides conversation, remembrance, and a reminder as to why I work where I work, believe what I believe, and dream the things I dream. It settles me, resets me, and clears out the gunk that stops me from writing. The whole album does that. The words have become to me like scripture, the images like icons for my own theology. The songs are hymns that speak.

Perhaps you know another song that will say it better. So I will leave you with a song but I want you to answer a question when it is done–what songs, hymns, and spiritual songs drive you to be a better person?

In the attics of my life,
full of cloudy dreams unreal.
Full of tastes no tongue can know,
and lights no eyes can see.
When there was no ear to hear,
you sang to me.

I have spent my life seeking all that’s still unsung.
Bent my ear to hear the tune,
and closed my eyes to see.
When there was no strings to play,
you played to me.

In the book of love’s own dream,
where all the print is blood.
Where all the pages are my days,
and all the lights grow old.
When I had no wings to fly,
you flew to me, you flew to me.

In the secret space of dreams,
where I dreaming lay amazed.
When the secrets all are told,
and the petals all unfold.
When there was no dream of mine,
you dreamed of me.
–Robert Hunter (The Grateful Dead)

Reflections on Being an Ally

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“In every age, no matter how cruel the oppression carried on by those in power, there have been those who struggled for a different world. I believe this is the genius of humankind, the thing that makes us half divine: the fact that some human beings can envision a world that has never existed.”

-Anne Braden

Anne Braden was a white civil rights activist in Louisville, Kentucky; one of very few white American’s Martin Luther King, Jr. was quoted to say that he trusted to have his back. I was introduced to her legacy while attending the Unitarian Universalist General Assembly in Louisville, Kentucky, in 2013. Her story quickly began to weave its way into my soul. If you don’t know much about her there is a wonderful documentary about her life. This post is not about Anne Braden, but her life story is very important when we consider what it means to be an ally.

Sadly, in our generation being an ally is a learned ideal. With the recent news from Arizona, Kansas, and a myriad of other states our ability to stand with others will become very important. Civil rights leaders have fought a long embittered struggle through the latter half of the 20^th century to end one form of segregation only to be met with segregation anew in the 21^st. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people have been fighting an uphill battle for many years and they must be gaining ground because opposition to equality has really kicked into overdrive. In the United States we look to Arizona reinstituting Jim Crow. Russia now makes demonstrating for the LGBTQ community a crime, and different countries in Africa calling for prison and death–all for people who just want the right to be themselves. Now, this new segregation is making its way into Mississippi.

When I was a child I never understood why two people of the same sex couldn’t be married. When I was in high school very brave friends starting coming out, and as I grew to be an adult I found that I knew more people in the LGBTQ community than I had imagined. Human beings–not faceless masses huddled in alleyways–but friends, family, and loved ones. I noticed that when I needed an ear, they listened; when I needed a shoulder to cry on, they offered; and when I needed support, they provided. They are different than me, but not really. Our hearts beat the same, our blood pumps the same, and when it comes down to brass tacks, we want the same thing– love. In fact I find the continued use of the terms they and them in this post problematic. I feel limited by language, but then in reality isn’t that just a reflection of the privileges I am granted automatically by being white, male, and heterosexual?

The happiest day of my life was my wedding, and it is a terrible tragedy that weddings only come to those born within a narrow range of acceptability. Love shouldn’t be allowed only for the privileged. Over the years being an ally has meant different things, but the core has always been the same. People I love are being marginalized and mistreated because of who they are, and I find that unacceptable. Perhaps a better word is shameful. But we have to continue to work together with that vision of a different world– the one we write poems about, the one we sing songs about. Staying in the struggle and the power will enable us to get there together.

Justin

I have a Quick Question

What We Lose in the Debate

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I would assume many of you who follow or read this blog know about the debate that took place Tuesday night between Bill Nye and Ken Ham at the Museum for Creation Science in Petersburg, Kentucky. The event was well attended and live-streamed on the Internet. Bill Nye represented a side that said the earth came into being through a multi-billion year process, whereas Ken Ham argued that the earth came into being through a six-day creative process invoked by the God of “The Bible.” Both sides outlined their viewpoint, articulated their evidence (as they saw it), and probably didn’t convince anyone listening of anything new. I would guess that most people watching were already set on how they felt.

I suspect most Unitarian Universalists went to bed feeling that Bill Nye articulated well the right view and probably won the debate, as I suspect evangelical Christians went to bed feeling the same thing toward Ken Ham.

That doesn’t mean the debate was fruitless. Both debaters acted civilly toward one another and articulated clearly their views. It is necessary to model communication without name-calling and fighting.

But I got something else out of the debate. My questions for Ham would have come from the realm of theology not science, in fact it didn’t sound as if Ham was conversant with the Hebrew text, and when converting theology to science you might as well start with the original text. But the problem is when anyone tries to fit theological text into a scientific mold, we lose something very important–soul. In fact turning Genesis into a scientific text waters down the great theology that can be derived.

Genesis 1 and 2 is a piece of beautifully crafted literature. The words were not chosen simply or quickly. There was redaction and obvious work done to weave the beauty of humanity, ethics, and morality into the world. Humanity is created in this story and placed into an important role–that of steward. We were made, planted onto this earth to care for it, the world was good, we were good, and when we are good, good things happen. But the flood teaches us that the world will reflect our work–even when the work is not so good.

The first chapter of the creation story actually tells a wonderful story about the conversion of chaos into beauty. When I first read the story in Hebrew, it reminded me of something Michelangelo had said about sculpting marble. He didn’t add things, he just removed the parts that weren’t supposed to be there. In the creation story, life is art. I will never forget the first time I read the creation story in Hebrew–it completely changed my understanding.

It wasn’t about days, it was about hearts; it wasn’t about structures, it was about majesty; it wasn’t about science, it was about soul. I can theologically argue why I think this text is being misused, but I fear if I do that I become part of the problem.

In Genesis, God breathes into our nostrils, into our souls, makes us special, pointing out that the spirit of life is our spirit, and the poetry of our days remind us that all good things require work. That is just fine for someone like me.

-Justin

Fear of God

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When I was new to Unitarian Universalism I learned a new “Fear of God,” not the fear to believe, or the fear of God’s glory, but the fear to mention his name, the fear to appear too theistic to those who are not. I was shocked then when I read “Our Chosen Faith,” the book given me during the celebration of my membership, that God was all throughout the book.

After doing research into the matter I found that Unitarian Universalism was working toward reclaiming religious language including God. So I sat down today in my office to write a few words about this reclamation. I started with a simple Google search, and was taken down a rabbit hole of history that I found very educational.

In 2003 Rev William G Sinkford, self-proclaimed atheist and President of the UUA, made the national news as he declared that Unitarian Universalism would begin reclaiming religious language. He said in 2003 that it would be his goal to reclaim the “language of reverence, in the association,” citing his issue with the lack of spiritual language anywhere in our principles or traditions.

In a sermon in January of 2003 preached to First Jefferson Unitarian Universalist Church he said, “I believe that Unitarian Universalism is growing up. Growing out of a cranky and contentious adolescence into a more confident maturity. A maturity in which we can not only claim our Good News, the value we have found in this free faith, but also begin to offer that Good News to the world outside these beautiful sanctuary walls.” Later in that sermon he points to one of the problems he sees with our refusal to claim religious language “Our resistance to religious language gets reflected, I think, in the struggle that so many us have in trying to find ways to say who we are, to define Unitarian Universalism.”

But he was very clear that Unitarian Universalism was not going to adopt the picture of God in the Christian Sense. In his 2009 book, The Cathedral of the World, Forest Church defines God this way “’God’ is our name for that which is greater than all and yet present in each.” These two men are very clear to define God differently than modern Christianity.

Living in the American South this idea takes on a completely different flavor. In Jackson, Mississippi, public atheists still work against prejudice. Mississippi is not in a world clearly enveloped in humanism or atheism. Many schools still begin their days with Christian prayer and becoming politically active is difficult if not backed by Judeo-Christian identification.

And for this reason I think it is important to reclaim religious language as a whole, but respectful to all parties willing to join the meeting: to understand conversation of faith, belief, and salvation–not in the popular sense but an even more traditional sense. It is important to talk about sin, but sin as the negative action against each other not divine judgment against the self in regard to things we cannot control. It is important to talk about salvation from the prison we build around ourselves that doesn’t involve changing the core of who we are. Most of all it is important to talk about God–whether we mean the deity that teaches us to become better or the Spirit of Life that drives us, let us talk of God, without fear but with love. As we reclaim the language of our UU forbearers we may find that we really aren’t that polarized after all–even in Mississippi.

I May Not Get There With You

A Principled Life

Towards a Bruised and Hurting Church

“I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting, and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security.”
-Pope Francis

As a minister I tend to keep up on what other ministers are doing, I consider it not just part of the job but my duty. I have never been one to stay within the bounds of my own faith group either. I have always found it important to see how churches worldwide work, what their leaders do, and the effect the leadership has on the community around it.

This week Time magazine has named Pope Francis Time’s Man of the Year. I remember as a child watching the antics of Pope John Paul II who was called The Pope to the Protestants, I remember being given the gift of a rosary blessed by Benedict (who I haven’t heard really called anything), and my excitement concerning some statements of Pope Francis who is being referred to as The People’s Pope.

As stated above, Time has called him Man of the year! Jon Stuart hails him based on his economic principles, many Unitarian Universalists blog positively about him, and even one article in the satirical blog The Apocryphal Press stated that Pope Francis was actually applying to be a Unitarian Universalist Minister because “he is a very undisciplined person.”

Of course this pope has not changed his viewpoints, on many of the issues core to UU social justice work, like marriage equality, and equal rights for women in priesthood and health issues, but his focus on works and justice cannot be ignored. This pope has moved from the Vatican into a hostel, traded in his Mercedes- Benz for a Ford Focus, and pointed out that trickle down economics breed inequality. He has set an example for religious leaders all over the world, and not just religious leaders, but also those who belong to churches.

What can we learn from Francis? He has a lot of time left to make big mistakes and he even expects that he will, but can we learn from a man who is very adamant that he is not perfect? And will our differences of opinion over core issues stop us from growing because of his example?

The Unitarian Universalist Church of Jackson is no stranger to social justice work. Within our walls meet local leaders in Women’s Rights, Marriage Equality, and Immigrant’s rights. We teach acceptance and work to empower the disenfranchised, and support human rights. But the question I am left with and the question I leave you with is this. As a church are we bruised, hurting, and dirty due to our work towards justice, or are we just clinging on for security?

The Practice of Nothing Sure is Something

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I asked my Dharma teacher what his practice was, and he said doing nothing. I struggle with doing nothing. I don’t see how it is positive.

I look into a world of sharp edges, with issues, big issues. We fight for equality, we fight for dignity, we work to feed the starving and get frustrated at the fact there is enough food in the world to feed everyone, yet people still die of hunger. I struggle with the idea that doing nothing is a positive spiritual practice.

There is always something to do, there are papers to write, tests to grade, programs that won’t code themselves and the poor are always with us. There is so much to do–there isn’t enough time. So how then is doing nothing good? How do I give myself permission for…nothing?

One Buddhist Lama in India spoke to his student about how difficult it can be in the West to practice. He was a yak herder until he was 12 then he went to the monastery. He never owned an iPhone, never watched TV, and seldom ever heard a radio. He asked “Don’t American’s have a battery inside, why do you always have to be plugged in?”

As I meditate and work hard at doing nothing I hear my father’s voice ring through my head. My father worked very hard and still does. He never understood my work as a minister or my brother’s work as a social worker. He said, “I just don’t understand getting paid to talk to people–you dig a ditch you get paid, you talk for fun.”

I remember my unemployment, I remember the shame of not contributing, the shame of not accomplishing, the shame of getting nothing done. I worked hard those many months, I worked hard while getting nothing done.

But what if getting nothing done and doing nothing are two different things? So I sit, and face the spiritual practice of doing nothing. It is difficult to give myself that permission, especially when there is a list of things to do and a full DVR to watch. I sit to meditate, then I wonder what is new on YouTube, I sit in silence and wonder how my favorite shows will end, I sit to pray and wonder when it will be over so I can return to contributing. That’s my monkey mind, a mind so busy it runs around like a monkey from topic to topic. I don’t hear the silence of peace, I hear only the chatter of what needs done.

The Hebrew Bible says “Blessed is Sabbath, and you keep it holy.” God not only gives permission but makes the demand that his people rest, and though we may not all believe in God, what if we just chose to believe in rest? What if we look to ourselves, and acknowledge that humans need rest, deserve rest, and thrive with rest. What if rest is so important it is like doing something?

The holidays are upon us, and though generally assumed we will rest, do we really ever rest? We have to cook, clean, shop, and deal with broken relationships. There are expectations–that year after year we do not meet. It is easy then to be filled with shame over those expectations but in truth what if we decided our expectations are wrong-not us?

Would it be different if we cooked because we wanted to, gave and received gifts out of love, and understood that even in our brokenness we can be one? Then, maybe, instead of seeking entertainment we found that the best entertainment is none at all–that Doing Nothing may be the most important thing we will ever do? – Justin M McCreary

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