One of the factors that contributes to our feelings of worth, of meaning, is our ability to make a difference in our world. From the cradle on, we try out behaviors and abilities and discover the effects they have on us, but also on the people and things around us. The call, "Look at me! Look at me!" rings out through our childhood. When we get too old for such obvious words, we find other ways to ask for and to gauge the reactions we get from others, and to distinguish which actions lead to better ends. Somewhere in there, maybe with encouragement of parents, teachers, and other role models, we begin to want to direct our efforts and impact so that we make particular kinds of differences in the world. We may begin trying to be the best people we can, and in our own ways, to make the world a better place.

Western ideas about this, and its importance in the greater scheme of things - which translates into importance for attaining salvation in traditional Christian theology - this importance has been hotly debated. I don't want to trace that argument right now, but I will say that Unitarians and Universalists have generally sided with the prophet Micah in calling us to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our understanding of the Divine. They talked about `salvation by character'. That's the idea that the things we do and the differences we make are more important than other factors, such as purity of belief. And this conviction has shown itself in the lives of a lot of our UU forebears.

One of my personal favorites is Benjamin Rush. He's not exactly a household hero, but he could be. He was a signer of the Declaration of Independence, after all. But I would choose him as someone who made a difference for other reasons, too. Rush was a doctor, and the only one who consistently stayed in Philadelphia during outbreaks of yellow fever to treat those affected. He also was an early proponent of humane treatment for the mentally ill. The conditions under which they lived at the time were truly horrific, and Rush has been called the Father of American Mental Health Care.

Rush was a proponent of public education, which was just beginning to be established. He was one of the earliest opponents of slavery and wrote a tract explaining his position - in 1773. Benjamin Rush was involved in writing the documents that formally established Universalism as a denomination. I am impressed with his wide ranging concern and his ability to overreach the ideas of his day. Though I must admit there was one serious exception. That was his conviction that bleeding was an effective treatment for disease. Rush surely hurt some of his patients as much as he helped them. And though it probably sounds strange, I actually appreciate this failing - as proof that even the most outstanding of us is still human, with blind spots and errors.

In talking about Rush - or other Unitarian and Universalists who led lives of service and dedication - I do not mean to say that somehow we should all be Benjamin Rushes or Dorothy Days or whoever your own favorite may be. I do mean to say that our tradition has a history of social conscience and compassion for the plight of others that can inspire us to do our part, whatever that part may be. Our tradition holds that the things we do make a difference in our world, whether it be within our personal circles or reaching out into more public spheres. We have different interests and abilities and different life situations. We each do things in our own ways.

This morning, I've invited three of our members to speak to you about things they do in support of their particular concerns. Others have brought materials from organizations they are involved with and will lay them out after the service. I think you'll agree that we honor the examples of our concerned spiritual ancestors with the kinds of activity you will find here today. Our three speakers are Debra Heins, Jerry Jackman and Kathleen Ennis. The choir will provide interludes between our speakers.

[Debra spoke about her prison work.]

[Jerry spoke abuot the Sierra Club.]

[Kathleen spoke about School Volunteers.]

Thank you all. I'm sure that folks will want to talk more with you after the service.

Before we finish this morning, I want to raise one more issue. It's actually been mentioned briefly. That is the problem of balancing the great needs we see around us with our own limited abilities. Sometimes it's hard to imagine that we could actually have an impact on problems that are so widespread. I have no magic powers to offer you. But two things particularly encourage me. One is the recent example of the movement to ban and dismantle land mines. This movement was started in the 1980's by one very determined American woman, Jody Williams. By 1991, she had gathered world-wide support and formed the International Campaign to Ban Landmines. In 1997 an International Treaty was signed. Who could have imagined that so much could have happened in less than 20 years?

The other thing that helps me when I feel overwhelmed by a problem is a story. Its is by Loren Eiseley, an antoropologist. He was born in 1907 and died in 1977.

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach at dawn, before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to welcome the day, so he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean."

"I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."

We choose which actions we undertake. We may never know the extent of our influence. But we can make a difference for "that one."

24 March 2002

(Copyright by Rev. Grace Simons. Contact the author for permission to use.)

This is one in a collection of Minister's Sermons. We also have a collection of Guest Sermons, a brief Welcome and Biography from Rev. Simons, and the latest edition of Grace Notes, a column Rev. Grace writes for our newsletter.