Most of you know that each year at our service Auction, I offer a sermon on a topic of the buyer's choice. For the last two years, David Waterman has been the buyer. Last year he asked me to talk about Thomas Starr King, who was minister in San Francisco in the 1860s and known as a lover of nature, defender of the Union and fund-raiser extraordinaire for the precursor of today's Red Cross. I guess Dave thought I did all right with that one, because he bought the next Auction Sermon, and this is it.

However, Dave has abandoned history as a topic this time. He's asked me to talk about something rather more slippery. In fact, between the times we've talked about what he hoped for, the shape and focus shifted and morphed elusively. Certain key words and phrases remain steady though. They include spirituality, purpose and 'this Fellowship.' So here goes, Dave. I hope I'm exploring the neighborhood you meant to choose. (But first, let me pause and remind all of you that we have another Auction coming up in May and it's not too early for you to start thinking a topic you think is worth your bid.)

Spirituality, purpose and this Fellowship. You know, it's not all that long since the very word spirituality was invitation to an argument in UU circles. It seemed wonderfully promising to some of us and downright threatening to others. I'm glad to see that we seem to have gotten past that. Or at least we seem to be finding ways to live with the ambiguities, the lack of verbal precision that's involved. I notice that it still seems popular for people to describe themselves as "spiritual but not religious" or to say that they aren't interested in "organized religion." My standard response is that if they feel that way, they'll love Unitarian Universalism - we're often quite a disorganized religion.

Beyond the wise-cracking, the truth is that I think we want to be both spiritual and religious, that we want to see changes, to make a difference, in ourselves and in our world. That is a big order. And a slippery one. I am bold enough to offer some possible meanings as we go along and a variety of images. They don't all fit together like pieces to a puzzle, but they're not foreign to each other either. My hope is that some will open new doors or windows for you - new ways of glimpsing paths to our goal.

I understand spirituality to be about connection; connection to things, to people, to power outside our own skins. When asked about it in seminary, I used to say that for me, spirituality was any 'thing' or experience that awakened my sense of being connected to all creation. Some UUs talk about connection with the forces that create and sustain life. Others explain occasions of awe and wonder. Bill Houff, in his book "Infinity in Your Hand" says that spirituality "points toward the interface of the finite and the infinite." Jacob Trapp called it "the window of the moment open to the sky of the eternal." James Luther Adams speaks of Intimacy and Ultimacy. Very different words, they point to an elusive reality. Where can we find this awareness?

Lots of people find awe and wonder in nature. John Muir, the Transcendentalists, Aldo Leopold, Annie Dillard, and Mary Oliver, along with many others, have written of their experiences in wild places and of the impact those experiences had for them. A lot of UUs are nature mystics at heart, though they don't necessarily admit to it. I won't mention any names, but we have members who find their summer Sunday mornings well spent in the Sierras or at the shore. Something we find in the outdoors offers a sense that we are connected to the grandeur of the world itself.

The idea of finding the sacred in nature is an ancient one. Jewish and Christian Scriptures often refer to the natural world. Psalm 121 reminds us to lift our eyes, to look to the mountains for help. The prophet Micah calls on the mountains as a court that can make judgments of righteousness. Matthew and Luke record Jesus' advice to "Consider the lilies, how they grow." With a somewhat different perspective, an old Jewish story tells that the child of a rabbi once loved to wander through the woods. After a while, the rabbi began to worry about how far the child went, about danger from animals, fallen trees or other hazards. One day he took the child aside and said, "I notice that you go to the forest each day. Why do you spend so much time in the woods?" "I go there to find God." "Well," said the rabbi, "that is a very good thing. I am glad you are searching for God. But don't you know that God is the same everywhere?" "Yes," the child replied, "but I'm not."

Science tells us that we bear the marks of our natural connections with the planet, the universe: that our blood is kin to sea water, our most minute pieces, star stuff. The UU World that arrived at my home yesterday features the work of Michael Dowd and Connie Barlow, who some of you remember from a service here or from Stebbins Institute last summer. They remind us that we are a part of a great progression of being. That we are connected through eons of development and form to all that is.

Plenty of other areas of our living can bring that same sense of connection, that experience of awe and wonder. Music is a great source of spirituality for many. Our tastes in music vary greatly - from chants to classics, folk to jazz, rock to country. Whatever our choice, we can somehow be swept away by rhythm, melody, the complex combinations of sound, either in hearing or in making the music. Blame it all on vibrations if you will, but music opens us up to a different reality.

A whole variety of activities may be spiritual. The interplay of muscle, sinew and nerve; of brain and brawn if you want, can bring us a different sensibility. We talk of a runner's high, of the rhythms of weaving, of the connections felt in gardening to list just three examples. The Buddhists talk of doing only the thing that you are doing in this present moment. Maybe you've heard of a book called "Chop Wood, Carry Water." It's all about finding the spiritual in the everyday. We also hear a lot about the benefits of writing, of keeping journals, and of reading poetry or fine literature as well as scripture.

All these things - and many others - can be wonderfully spiritual, but they also tend to be solitary. Yet we are social creatures, needing communities for many reasons. Religious communities are among the most ambitious - seeking to bring together our spiritual intuition, our gifts and needs throughout the stages of our lives and our hopes for a better world. The roots of the word religion mean a bringing together, a binding up of different elements. To me, this speaks of integrity, of coherence in spirit, values and action. When we can manage this, our spirituality, our sense of connectedness, leads us to compassion. Compassion propels us to activity. As Mother Teresa says, "Love cannot remain by itself - it has no meaning."

The genius of religious communities like this Fellowship is in their efforts - at least sometimes successful - to open spaces for the sacred and to suggest connections among the spiritual, the community and the possibilities for making the world a better place. We aim, and sometimes approach, a combination that widens our spiritual view, fosters our compassion and moves toward justice. The UU congregation in Santa Fe NM has recently adopted a new covenant that speaks of seeking truth, celebrating beauty and the way of love. It includes the line, "We're moved by compassion to service and justice." The Rev. Mark Morrison-Reed says it this way.

"The central task of the religious community is to unveil the bonds that bind each to all. There is a connectedness, a relationship discovered amid the particulars of our own lives and the lives of others. Once felt, it inspires us to act for justice.

It is the church that assures us that we are not struggling for justice on our own, but as members of a larger community. The religious community is essential, for alone our vision is too narrow to see all that must be seen, and our strength too limited to do all that must be done. Together, our vision widens and our strength is renewed."

Now I will be the first to tell you that an hour here on Sunday morning is not enough to give you a thriving spiritual life or to reward your attendance with perfect integrity. One hour a week is better than nothing, but it isn't enough. And, two other truths go along with that one. As our opening words say, our time together can serve as a reminder and an inspiration - a reminder of our spiritual connections, of our highest aspirations; an inspiration to persevere, to offer our gifts. It is my hope that, like that Jewish child in the woods, we are different when we come here, more open to the spirit, to reminders of connection and community, to the call of justice. These things are the same everywhere, but often we don't notice. Maybe it's easier when we're together here.

Then, too, as Morrison Reed says, alone our vision is too narrow, our strength too limited. Together - well, together that can be changed. That's not a guarantee. It's a pregnant possibility.

Here's another story. Once upon a time, there was a woman who wanted peace in the world and peace in her heart and all sorts of good things, but she was very frustrated. The world seemed to be falling apart. She would read the papers and get depressed. (You can relate, right?) One day she decided to go shopping. (I'm not sure how that fits in, but it's part of the story.)

She went into a mall and picked a store at random. When she walked in, she was surprised to see Jesus behind the counter. She knew it was Jesus because he looked just like the pictures. But it seemed so unlikely! Finally, she got up her nerve and asked, "Excuse me, but are you Jesus?" "Yes, I am." "Do you work here?" "No, I own the place."

The woman took a breath. "What do you sell in here?" "Oh, just about anything. What do you want?" "Well, I don't really know." Jesus looked at her kindly and said, "Well, feel free to wander up and down the aisles and make a list of what you want. Then come back and I'll see what I can do for you."

So the woman did just that. Walking up and down the aisles, she found peace on earth, no more war, no hunger or poverty, peace in families, no more drug abuse, clean air and water, careful use of resources, equality for people of all colors, abilities, sexual preference - so many wonderful things! She wrote furiously and returned to the counter with a long list. Jesus took the list and skimmed through it. Then he looked up at her and smiled. "No problem." He bent down behind the counter and rummaged around for quite a while. Then he stood up and laid out an assortment of packets. "What are these?" the woman asked. Jesus replied, "Seed packets." "You mean I don't get the finished product?" "No. This is a place of dreams. You come in and see what it looks like, and I give you the seeds. You go home and plant the seeds. You nurture them and help them to grow and someone else reaps the benefits." The woman swallowed. "Oh."

Now I'm not going to tell you what she did next. I will tell you that this community is a lot like that store. It's about providing those packets and wanting us to take them. It's about encouraging us to plant the seeds, to nurture the growing possibilities. It's about reminding us what the reality would look like and offering chances to renew our strength and our spirit. It's about helping us remember that we drink from wells we did not dig and that we, in our turn, provide for the future. It's about being in this together.

All these things are part of our covenant to walk our religious journeys together. They are all about spirituality, purpose and this Fellowship. They're a little slippery, a bit hazy. They shift under our gaze. Maybe dreams are always like that. At least until the day they become reality.

(The two stories in this sermon are adapted from "Spiritual Literacy" by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat.)

26 February 2006

(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.