The Most Loving Thing

The Most Loving Thing

Dr Gaye Ortiz

Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro

October 21 2012

“A man drove through an unfamiliar neighborhood that he considered shady. Its residents were of a different class and race than he.

And, sure enough, as soon as he drove down the first block – having carefully locked his doors – he noticed that people on the sidewalks were yelling and gesturing at him as he drove along. The further he drove, the more outraged and outrageous the angry communication sounded.

This behavior confirmed all that he had suspected and disliked about ‘these kinds of people’.

But then he realized he had been driving the wrong way down a one-way street! People were trying to draw his attention to his unsafe wrong-way driving! If only he had paid more attention to his own actions!”

[Arthur Paul Boers, Never Call Them Jerks: Healthy Responses to Difficult Behaviors (1989), p.121]

Boers ends this story by saying we need to understand how we contribute to undesirable situations and how our behavior can be changed (122).

This is probably a sermon that not many people want to hear; some people may have voted with their feet when they saw the sermon topic…maybe some of those might be people who need to be here the most. Because it is hard to stay in right relation with people, especially people who we’re close to and with whom we have a covenant that ties us together.

This is a huge topic, and I have had to work hard to keep this sermon to just over an hour – only kidding! When we talk about right relations, we are really talking about the first UU principle, affirming the worth and dignity of every person, and the 2^nd, affirming justice, equity, and compassion in human relations. And those are tough principles to attempt to affirm, let alone carry out!

Meg Barnhouse knows it’s hard; she wrote back in 2009, in an article for UU World, that “the UU Principles are demanding enough to make me whine.”

She says, 

“The first one asks me to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, which means that I can no longer subscribe to the cheerful Calvinist doctrine of the total depravity of human nature. It sounds grim, but really, if you are in fact starting with a totally depraved nature, the opportunities for self-congratulation abound: “Hey, I didn’t knock over a 7-Eleven this afternoon, even though money’s pretty tight. I’m doing well!”

Now I have to struggle with the worth and dignity of people who do unspeakably awful things, whereas the doctrine of total depravity made that one a no-brainer.” (Meg Barnhouse, “Who says Unitarian Universalism's Principles are easy?” 11/23/09, uuworld.org)

Barnhouse suggests that at the end of each principle we add the phrase, “beginning in our homes and congregations”; and she goes on to say:

Justice, equity, and compassion in human relations, beginning in our homes and congregations” is a sobering ideal. I don’t know about you, but I have sat in meetings about right relations and seen people get testy with one another. Some of the nastiest behavior I’ve seen was long ago at a community workshop for peace activists.”

"Lao Tse, quoted in the back of our hymn book, says peace in the world begins with peace in the home, which begins with peace in the heart. If I start with my own heart, the demands of our Principles get even heavier. Peace and compassion in my heart? Justice too? Freedom as well? Affirming the worth of every person all the time, not only with my words and my behavior but in my secret heart? If we added “in the heart” to the Principles, they might as well just say “Be Jesus” and be done with it. I’m sorry I even brought it up.” (Meg Barnhouse, “Who says Unitarian Universalism's Principles are easy?” 11/23/09, uuworld.org).

Well, if you are like Meg Barnhouse and secretly whine when you think of what is asked of us when we affirm the principles, then this sermon is for you. Because, even though everyone in this congregation may sincerely try to relate to each other in a positive and supportive way, we all know that there are bound to be times when we misunderstand each other, when we do not assume good intentions, when we approach a situation with perceptions and prejudices firmly in place, no matter if we are in fact driving the wrong way down a one-way street…

Over the years, misunderstandings, disagreements, and hurt feelings can cause a ripple effect of dis-ease and discontent moving outward from the people originally involved to an entire congregation. That the members can learn - on the whole - to try to respond in a healthy fashion, rather than leave in a huff or just never talk about the problem, is something to commend. Building the Beloved Community means taking our lumps and dealing with them: Tom Owen-Towle says, “Our chosen church is our principal tilling ground, sacred ground, battleground, common ground, and growing ground” (Tom Owen-Towle, Growing a Beloved Community, 2004, p.5). And although we may welcome people to explore their own individual spiritual paths, that doesn’t mean that they have no responsibilities to the congregation; this faith is built on a common enterprise over centuries.

I think that trust is one of the biggest issues that we might confront in our little community. We saw in our Time for All Ages that when we are not in control and we need to put our trust in another person, it can be a scary thing. And if we can’t do that in this congregation, then we are in trouble.

Because, when we trust another person, we know that when we fall short – or, using the original meaning of ‘sin’, when we miss the mark – that we can make it right again, we can forgive each other and forgive ourselves. Jesus is quoted in Matthew 7:4 as asking, “How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?” It is an amusing image when you think about it, and I do believe Jesus had a sense of humor when he communicated to his disciples and followers. But it is so true that when we’re upset by someone, we often neglect to look at our part in the situation.

David Miller, a UU minister in California, drew up a list of questions that might help us to reflect on the extent to which we are in right relation with each other in this congregation. We will not go through the entire list, but I’ve selected seven of the questions he asks.

1.   Am I assuming the good intentions of the other? Consider practicing the philosophy of ‘namaste’, the Hindu salutation that literally means “I honor that which is sacred in you.” Can we think that in our minds each time we meet folks here every Sunday? Can you look at someone in the eyes fully, directly, and not think that? In order to stop privileging our own virtuousness while approaching others with suspicion, we have to give up our self-image of being right all the time. How many of us have had a negative encounter this week? How long did it take you to realize that you didn’t trust the other person? Where do the roots of that suspicion lie? If we assume good intentions many of our misunderstandings would never even happen.

2.   Am I communicating directly with the person with whom I’m having an issue? Avoiding that person is not going to solve the problem, but again, this is easier said than done. And that’s often because we have a lack of disclosure trust: if you speak to the person, will they interrupt you before you can finish what you need to say? Will your words be twisted and used against you? Our fragile sense of ego sometimes puts up defenses us before we even begin to speak to the person…and it may not even be a person, but a group or a committee.

For example, you may have the experience of being asked to provide input to a committee, only to find a decision that has already been made by an inside group. No wonder we hang back from speaking...but if we don’t, how will we ever change the dynamic of conflict? But take the story of an 18^th century Quaker named John Woolman, at the height of the anti-slavery debate, who was upset that some Quakers were slave-owners. As Tom Owen-Towle tells the story:

To change that state of affairs, he didn’t censure the slaveholders. Instead, he traveled on horseback, visiting each slaveholder individually and sharing his moral concern. It took Woolman some thirty years to persuade all of them. But in the end, not one Quaker owned a slave. Passing laws would probably have brought about faster results but not without pain and lingering bitterness. As servant-leaders and as prophetic parishes, our job is to transform people, not merely to enforce rules, always remembering we won’t necessarily be as successful as Woolman. Therefore, we’re called to be conscientious, even when we fail. (Owen-Towle, 82)

3.   Am I reflecting on what personal wounds, issues, and tendencies of mine that are contributing to the issue? It’s the old story of the wife who makes her husband a cup of coffee in the morning, and when he tastes it he rips into her about how awful it is, and starts a full-blown fight. It ain’t about the coffee, you can bet! There may be one person who can push your buttons – it might not take much, maybe one sentence, before you are fuming. Until you figure out who this person reminds you of – maybe a parent who would speak to you in a certain way when angry or scolding you – you will react to the person very negatively. It helps to figure it out, and then the next step is to desensitize yourself to prevent future knee-jerk reactions.

Pema Chodron, in her book The Places That Scare You (2001), explains that the formal practice of loving kindness has 7 stages, beginning with “engendering loving-kindness for ourselves, then expanding it at our own pace to include loved ones, friends, ‘neutral’ persons, those who irritate us… [and then gradually we broaden the circle to include] all beings through time and space” (Chodron, 43). She says that if we don’t question our feeling of irritation, it is easy to let emotions hook us in and shut us down.

4.   Am I actually trying to live the principles and values of Unitarian Universalism by acting with compassion, respect and high value of our interdependence? The author Stephen Covey (The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, 2004, p.277) says that we can lower our expectations of independence and raise our level of involvement in order to develop unity between people: “The more genuine the involvement, the more sincere and sustained the participation in analyzing and solving problems, the greater the release of everyone’s creativity” (Covey, 283)

In this excerpt from his book Savor, the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh says that there is a human need for meaning, for purposeful connection, for community, and for real engagement in the world:

All of us have a great capacity for compassion. We want to help those who are really in need, who are suffering…But how do we begin? Transforming the world starts with oneself. It is through attending to our own well-being and staying in touch with what is happening in our own personal lives that we can have a greater capacity to understand and address the world’s suffering. We are then on a sturdier foundation to contribute to improving our world. (Thich Nhat Hanh, Savor, 2010, pp.224-5)

5.   Can I let go of my need to control the situation? Barbara Brown Taylor tells a story about the Desert Monks, early Christians who lived apart from society but had a strong sense of community. Two elders decided that they should try to have a quarrel like ordinary men; but since they had never had one before they did not know where to start. Even after agreeing how to argue over ownership of a brick, one of them gave in almost immediately, and so they “failed to get into an argument at all” (Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World, 2008, 89-90). Normally, we don’t have any problem getting into an argument! And we can tell when conflict escalates to become destructive because we feel we have no control and we begin to think and behave irrationally. We try to control a situation in order to avoid failure or losing face.

6.   Can I have disagreements with an individual or group, do so in love and respect, and continue to stay in community? The Native American activist Catherine Attla speaks of “the big law of respect.” A respectful church “is one where boundaries are kept, saboteurs are confronted, crises are faced” (Owen-Towle, 67). But how can we fight and still stay together? When we realize that conflict is normal and that the key to success is to find healthy ways of dealing with it, we can actually develop rules for fair fighting. Here are some ground rules that you may already use: (Boers, p.73)

·      Don’t label or name-call

·      Don’t attack or question motives

·      Propose positive changes, so not just offer negative complaints

·      Speak specifically, not generally

·      Speak up for yourself and not for others, using ‘I-language’

·      Consider and respect different perspectives; gather plenty of information

·      Be open about differences

·      Be responsible for your own feelings

·      Act accountable

·      Work for win-win situations

·      Value everyone

·      Be open to change and growth

·      Stick with the process

·      Take a break when things get too heated

·      Admit mistakes

·      When the group makes a decision, comply with it.

We need to stay connected through communication: listening and talking and being willing to be vulnerable without giving in to sabotage. When we feel defensive, we tend to want to withdraw, but if we can keep talking we can learn together through our experience.

7.   And finally, can I remember to ask the question, ‘What is the most loving thing I can do or say right now?’ The practice of loving your neighbor as yourself includes the responsibility to be mindful that how you treat another person, even in passing, can make all the difference. Barbara Brown Taylor calls this a spiritual practice, and she gives one example: “Next time you go to the grocery store, try engaging the cashier. Here is someone who exists even when she is not ringing up your groceries, as hard as that may be for you to imagine. It is enough to acknowledge her when she hands you your change. Just meet her eyes for a moment when you say, ‘Thanks’. Sometimes that is all another person needs to know that she has been seen – not the cashier but the person.” (Barbara Brown Taylor, 94-5).

How much more important is this question when we are in conflict with another person! Words can hurt or heal, gestures can comfort or ridicule. If we try to respect change, difference, and even conflict, we can avoid destroying - and may even salvage - relationships. How can we manage the conflict and manage to keep our relationship intact? Caroline Westerhoff makes an interesting point about the root word of manage:

The root of manage is the Latin for hand – manus – and when I think of hands, I recall Michelangelo’s great work fro the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, The Creation of Adam… In my imagination, a spark fairly sizzles in the space between them as God sets it all in motion for the very first time: ‘Be different, Adam. But you will not be alone in that differentness. There will be other different ones. Create with them.’ God’s hand is open…It is not shaking Adam into life but is energizing him by invitation…

Perhaps Michelangelo’s genius has provided us with needed fresh perspective. Hands – management can be perceived as instruments either for controlling, checking, holding, taking, restraining and even strangling or for guiding, pointing, stroking, kneading, giving away, letting go. To manage conflict then would be to allow it, not suppress it; to open our doors and windows to its fresh wind. (Westerhoff, “Conflict: The Birthing of the New” in David B. Lott, ed., Conflict Management in Congregations, 2001, p.57)

Maybe something you’ve heard this morning will come back to you when you are confronted with a situation where conflict may be about to erupt. You have a choice as to how you respond; be mindful about the power that entails. The relationship you save may be worth so much more than the momentary satisfaction of a sharp word, an insult, or an insult. And when someone tries to engage you in a disagreement or an argument, think about what may be going on in that person’s life; Plato said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Change is inevitable, and often with it comes conflict. Tolerating difference, respecting diversity, practicing empathy and compassion, normalizing conflict, and fighting fair can help us, as Hosea Ballou says, “keep the unity of the spirit in the bonds of peace.” NAMASTE.

Gaye Ortiz

Our Generosity, Our Future

Our Generosity, Our Future

UU Fellowship of Statesboro

September 2012

Let us create a prayer together:


At the center of the gathered community dwells the Holy.


We are the prayer, each and all.


One by one, we come to this place – whole and broken


Commencing and concluding, laughing and weeping,


And soul by soul the prayer begins.

Spirit of Life and Love…

Two by two, we greet one another – smiling, nodding, speaking, embracing.


And in relationship, the prayer continues.

Spirit of Life and Love, where we meet is a sacred space…

Moment by moment the circle builds, pulsing like four hundred heartbeats.


We fill the circle with our breath; we inspire. The circle fills us with wealth;


We are inspirited. The prayer rises on our very breathing together.

Spirit of Life and Love, where we meet is a sacred space


And we are inspired by one another’s presence…

The circle will not, cannot, go on forever, yet this circle will never die.


What each of us finds here is what we are not. It makes us whole.


It gives us strength to go out in the world beyond this holy community,


beyond this sacred space, to begin yet another prayer. Let us pray:

Spirit of Life and Love, where we meet is a sacred space and we are inspired
by one another’s presence. At the center of the gathered community dwells
the Holy. We are the prayer, each and all. We are the prayer, each and all. Amen. 

– L. Annie Foerster

On the day that the festival of Rosh Hashanah begins, I want to open my message this morning with a quote from Jewish author Elie Wiesel: “Sanctuary is often something very small. Not a grandiose gesture, but a small gesture toward alleviating human suffering and preventing humiliation. Sanctuary is a human being. Sanctuary is a dream. That is why you are here and that is why I am here; we are here because of one another. We are in truth each other’s shelter.” (Buehrens and Parker, A House for Hope, 148)

I became a rebel in the 9^th grade.

Glenn Hills High School in south Augusta in the late 1960s had a dress code, just like most other schools at that time. But times were a’changin, and so was what girls wanted to wear to school. We wanted to wear mini skirts, culottes, and blue jeans.

One day I wore a pair of knee—length culottes, and was sent to the principal’s office. It was not allowed. I didn’t understand why, and the authority of the Richmond County Board of Education was not good enough. I became a rebel.

Soon after, the board of education held a meeting at which the dress code was on the agenda. I wanted to go with a couple of friends – one of whom circumvented the dress code rules on boys not being allowed to have long hair by wearing a wig to school. I told my parents that they were coming to pick me up, and my dad said no way. I was not allowed to go. The board of education reaffirmed the dress code at that meeting.

The next year, the protest among us students began to swell across the city throughout the high schools, and soon we were planning a march, from the downtown post office to the Richmond County Board of Education headquarters on Heckle Street.

I knew better by now – and I had my own car! So I told my parents innocently that I was going out with my friend Mike. I drove my 1966 Ford Falcon station wagon down to the post office, and took part in my first protest. Of course, the one thing we failed to consider was that, once we got to the Board of Education building, we would have to walk all the way back to get the car! My feet had blisters and so when we got near to the post office Mike ran ahead and got the car and drove us back home. 

The next day when I got in the car I realized he’d driven all the way home with the emergency brake on, and it was shot.

But that was nothing compared to the sense of achievement, and the sense of solidarity, that I had. Within the year the dress code was dismantled. Our protest had not been in vain.

Why am I telling this story on the morning we launch our stewardship campaign? Because it was the first time I felt a ‘meeting of the minds,’ a common cause which drew diverse people together to fight injustice as we saw it.

But not every one of my protests was supported. I have, as many of you must do, Native American roots through my dad’s biological family. I became aware of this in high school, and aware of how modern-day Native Americans were marginalized in our society. The American Indian movement was formed in 1968, and the group carried out protests over issues such as poverty, broken treaties and police harassment. I decided that in solidarity I would not stand every morning in homeroom when we recited the Pledge of Allegiance and saluted the flag. I decided there WAS no liberty and justice for all.

This act of rebellion was noted, but not punished…until as a rising senior, I decided to run for Student Council president. I was ready to represent the nonconformists in our senior class while the other candidate was an athlete and a nice guy who was pretty conformist.

I was summoned to the principal’s office where a gang of teachers was waiting for me; they informed me I would not be allowed to run since I was unpatriotic. So the other guy won by default. 

As Jane Eyre would say, “Reader, I married him…” yes, Wil was the other candidate, so you could say I won in the end!

But when I was disqualified, I was alone; I was not a member of AIM; I had no one to back me up. I could have contacted the ACLU, had I known it even existed. There was no community to feel part of and in which I could seek solace or support. Only years later did I read of other students in other schools who have done the same thing in protest of the inequality they see as pervasive in this country.

What I really needed as a rebellious teenager was the Unitarian Universalist church! In March 2010 my aunt Babe died; because my dad was adopted, I never really got to know his biological family, and only met Babe in the last dozen years of her life. By then I was a Ministry Associate at the UU Church of Augusta. I was asked if I would co-officiate at her funeral service, and there I was introduced to other aunts and cousins I’d never met.

When I was speaking to one of my newfound cousins about being a member of the UU Church of Augusta, she said to me, “Oh, when I was a teenager I actually went to that church a few times.” All I could think of was, “Why didn’t I know you then? I could have taken a shortcut through all my searching and I would have found the spiritual home and supportive community I needed then!” I would have had a sanctuary…

Back to Elie Wiesel’s statement about sanctuary: we all, at one time or another, need a sanctuary: “Sanctuary is a human being. Sanctuary is a dream. That is why you are here and that is why I am here; we are here because of one another. We are in truth each other’s shelter.”

You are here this morning because, at some point, you needed a sanctuary. If, like I did eventually, you came to the UU faith tradition and thought it was THE liberating force of your life, then you felt a sense of relief, of inner joy, of gratitude that remains in your heart even today. To be with people who understand your search, who welcome your questions, who don’t judge you, and who support your quest for justice and truth – for me, it was worth the search! My teenage search for justice was not in vain.

Rebecca Ann Parker know what that means when she says, “The progressive church holds a feast of life spread for all – it is ours to share with any who can find nourishment within our walls.” (Buehrens and Parker, 167) I hope that, whether you are a recent member or a veteran UU, that you believe this fellowship can nourish your spirit and enrich your life.

But the nourishment of our own selves is only half the story. We seek more, and we ARE more, than individuals going through life on our own. We covenant together, and we work together, to live up to the seven principles that we affirm and promote as UUs.

Again, quoting Parker:

The mission of progressive faith is to embrace the beauty of diversity and the diversity of beauty…to love one another and this earth as paradise, here and now, the place Jesus promised us we would be when he said, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

…This mission requires each person to answer the question, What will you do with your gifts? And it requires vibrant commitment to life together in community. (Buehrens and Parker, 170)

We are blessed indeed to have a faith community that has the courage to look outwards instead of remaining inward-looking. This morning, when you recited this fellowship’s affirmation, you said as much. We have a mission that is honored when we look outwards.

The Aiken UU Church, where I am Consulting Minister, has this as their mission statement: “We are working together to create a welcoming and inclusive community which supports spiritual growth, ethical living, and open-minded exploration of religion.”

Our mission matters. Our vision matters…and we need to pass on that vision if our precious faith tradition is to have a future.

The author of The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, put it this way:

“In a house that becomes a home, one hands down, and another takes up, the heritage of mind and heart...It is needful to transmit the passwords from one generation to another.”

In my mind, one of those passwords should be ‘dream.’ The words of one of my favorite hymns urge us to “Come and go with me to that land”…we can dream of a better land right here on earth. The celebration of Rosh Hashanah is the start of a new year, a new chance to dream new dreams. You may not connect figures and statistics with dreams – maybe nightmares! – but this is exactly what your board and stewardship committee are doing this year.

Dreaming up a visionary budget requires a leap of faith. This fellowship looks to the future and what it takes to get it there, through the generosity of each of you in giving your time, your talent, and your treasure. And in L. Annie Foerster’s reading we heard the sentence: “The circle fills us with wealth; we are inspirited.”

When we give of our wealth to build up this community we are filled with wealth.

When we think of the UU legacy we are so fortunate to have – the rebels who sometimes gave their lives to ensure freedom of religious expression – we can feel honored to be asked to carry on the flame of our UU values.

If you can feel that this faith community has values and a purpose that you share, then, as so many here in this congregation do, you will commit to living out those values and that purpose in your daily life.

If you feel that you have received care, support, respect, freedom in belonging to this fellowship, then you’ll feel like you’ve received an abundance of nourishment.

When we are gracious about receiving, “it is easier to be generous givers. We see more easily what flows to us; we recognize and appreciate the abundance in our lives. When we feel abundant, and recognize the flow as unending, it is easier to give from a place beyond all reason: our values.” (UUA, FORTH Stewardship Education Ideas I)

After a long spiritual journey over more than four decades, I was amazed to find a faith tradition with values like the ones Rebecca Parker lifts up; when I worship on Sundays, I feel the abundant blessing of belonging to a community that tries to live out those values.

Do you see the flow of abundance in your lives? Your generosity can ensure the future of this fellowship and its values. We can – with the contribution each of us makes through our time, talent, and treasure – do more than just dream, we can reach our vision of the future, in which we stand as a proud beacon of progressive religious freedom and expression, diversity and radical hospitality for the Statesboro community.

May it be so, blessed be, Amen.

Gaye Ortiz

September 2012.

Works Cited:

Buehrens, John A, and Rebecca Ann Parker.  A House for Hope. Beacon Press, 2010.

Foerster, L. Annie. “Let Us Create a Prayer Together.” http://www.beelabyrinth.com/2011/08/let-us-create-a-prayer-together/

Saint-Exupery, Antoine de. "From Generation to Generation." In UUA, Singing the Living Tradition, 1993, #649.

UUA. FORTH (Forward Through The Ages) Stewardship Development Program. http://www.uua.org/finance/fundraising/forth/index.shtml

My Altar in the World

My Altar in the World

Dr Gaye W. Ortiz

Worship can take place within four walls, like we are doing this morning, but it can also take place outside of them.

Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.

This line in Mary Oliver’s poem ("It Was Early," Evidence, 2009, pp 20-1) is a source of great reflection and meditation – and challenge – to me. During the three decades I spent as a Catholic, I developed a real appreciation for the sacramentality of matter. The Mass is central to the Catholic faith, and its climax comes when Catholics receive the sacrament of the Eucharist. The idea behind the Eucharist – that it is the body and blood of Christ – draws upon the idea that plain, ordinary things can hold within them something of the sacred. So the bread, which is a food product that is made with flour, water, oil, yeast, salt – can with faith become flesh, and wine, one of the oldest beverages known to humanity made from the grape – can with faith become blood.

Now, I have italicized with faith in my sermon text, and the words ‘with faith’ are the crux of the matter. In coming to terms with the Eucharist Catholics have to be willing to suspend belief, succumbing to the irrational or mystical or mysterious, in order to go along with this central tenet of the Roman Catholic faith.

But sacramentality to me as a Unitarian Universalist is nothing to do with the Catholic notion of the Eucharist. It is my intuitive feeling that there is a special something to all of creation; it is grounded in my recognition of and commitment to the 7^th Principle, the interconnectedness of all existence of which we are a part. The belief that everything is connected suggests that there is something sacred, something of the divine in that connection…however each of us defines that in our own lives and experience. Sacred to some of us is a word we find hard to identify with: it can mean that we regard something with reverence, that has religious importance, that calls for veneration or respect.

Think of the Promised Land that the Israelites sought in the desert for 40 years…think of the sacred ground where Moses was commanded to take off his sandals…the Qaaba to which Muslims face when they pray…a tree, a mound or a stone for those who practice earth-centered religions. What is the feeling that we get when we are in a sacred place, a place we find special, for which we have respect? Think of a sacred place or space where you have felt called out of yourself, have perhaps connected with a larger sense of purpose; this is where we can begin to talk about spirituality. Maybe we use terms like ‘spiritual seeking’ or developing a ‘spiritual practice’ around certain things: prayer, meditation, other kinds of internalizing of a spiritual nature.

But for this morning we can broaden that idea of a spiritual practice to include being and doing, interior and exterior modes of spiritual practice. One day I will be able to sit down and write about my favorite spiritual practice, the spirituality of grandmothering. That is a ‘doing’ kind of spiritual practice, not in my head but certainly in my heart.

And the reason I feel I can say it is a spiritual practice is in part due to reading a book by Barbara Brown Taylor called An Altar in the World (2010, HarperOne). Taylor expanded the definition of a spiritual practice for me in her reflections on doing everyday things. Her idea of spiritual practice taking place within the context of a ‘geography of faith’ means encountering the holy in unexpected places, being mindful of the miracles and blessings that come to us in our physical environment. And by this I mean the sheer amazement and joy that we can have by looking at a leaf or an insect through a magnifying glass. It’s not that there is some magical power or supernatural element, but that the very existence of each created thing is a source of wonder. I felt that very keenly when we were in England earlier this month and got the phone call one afternoon that our daughter Molly’s best friend Helen had just had a baby boy…we went to the hospital and got to hold Freddy, just barely one day old. How perfect and precious he was! “Sometimes I need only to stand where I am to be blessed.”

Holding Master Freddy, 1 day old

This morning I want to use 3 of the chapter headings from Taylor’s book – the spiritual practices of getting lost, of encountering others, and of saying ‘no’ - in order to frame the experience of worshipping at my own altars in the world. These spiritual practices can take us out of our heads, where we spend so much of our time.

Taylor, a renowned preacher from north Georgia, is not perfect, and she is forthcoming in recalling times when she fails to encounter the sacred – this is a comforting thought for us who are amateurs in spiritual seeking. So, something to remember is that we should be open to the possibility of encountering the sacred where we least expect it. Last week Wilfred and I returned from the trip I just mentioned, back to the United Kingdom, where we lived for over 20 years. Our trip was confined to Yorkshire, and we had 9 lovely days to go to favorite places, eat favorite foods, and meet up again with old friends. We rented a car at Manchester airport, and Wil was an able chauffeur. As we drove from the airport to our friends’ house in Shipley, West Yorkshire, there were so many memories…of getting lost on those very roads!

In an earlier career working for Yorkshire Television as a program researcher, I managed to get lost practically every week on the roads and in the dales all across Yorkshire. It was my job to arrange shoots so I needed to know – in those days before Google maps – how to get to the locations and then give directions to the camera crew and my director. It was pretty embarrassing when I would get it wrong, but rewarding when at last I found what I was looking for. When I went off the beaten path I was often amazed at where I was being taken in my lost-ness.

Taylor says that if we let ourselves be lost, we can see the unexpected benefits that arise from our failure to navigate accurately. Of course, when we do get lost, we realize the need to summon up the skills that will help us on our way again – managing our panic, marshalling our resources, taking a good look around to see where we are and what this unexpected development might offer us (Taylor, 72).

Taylor mentions the fact that for women, it is easier for us than it is for men to get out a map to see where we need to go. “Why does it take thousands of sperm to fertilize a single egg? Because the sperm refuse to stop and ask for directions” (80).

Let’s broaden out from being literally lost and think of how we got to where we are today. Sometimes we set our life’s path squarely on what we want to be. When I mentioned to a student recently that it took me many years to know what I wanted to do in life, he snorted, “I can’t understand those kinds of people who do know – my girlfriend knew she wanted to be an optician when she was 11.”

We never expect life to turn out the way it does; sometimes we lose our way through divorce, loss of loved ones, illness and addiction, career changes…Taylor says that, after getting lost in life a few times, she has decided to stop fighting the prospect of getting lost and to “engage it as a spiritual practice instead” (73). 

Setting out on our path in life, and assuming that it will take us directly to where we want to go, we may become very disturbed by anything that deflects or delays that arrival.

Think of the Promised Land that the Israelites sought in the desert for 40 years…

There are many biblical stories of people losing their way, most notably the Israelites after their escape from years of bondage in Egypt.

“Think of the Promised Land that the Israelites sought in the desert for 40 years…” They learned the ‘holy art’ of being lost and endured so many misfortunes in their 40-year wandering that, Taylor says, “when they finally arrived in the land of milk and honey, they knew how to say thank you and mean it” (75).

Getting lost means that we become vulnerable, and Taylor tells us that there is “something holy in this moment of knowing just how perishable you are” (76). Maybe we can accept that there are ‘spiritual fruits of failure’ (78) and that consenting to be lost can build up the spiritual muscles we need for radical trust: trust that we can rely on our own resources but also find value in being a stranger in a strange land: the Hebrew Bible calls on its people to love the stranger, for they were once strangers in the land of Egypt. Taylor wisely tells us, “Those most likely to befriend strangers are those who have at some time been strangers themselves. The best way to grow empathy for those who are lost is to know what it means to be lost yourself” (83).

Love your neighbor as yourself

Now to what has been described as the ‘hardest spiritual work in the world – to love your neighbor as yourself’ (93). In our UU congregations we strive to live in covenant with each other, and perhaps a way of making this a spiritual practice is to reconsider our patterns of everyday interaction with people. Can we aim to make every encounter with a human being a holy one? Is that what our first principle, to affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person, is all about? Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that a lot of the time we fail miserably to love our neighbors as ourselves, especially in our daily routines when we treat others as means rather than as ends. Think of the casual encounters you have each day, with the person behind the counter at the gas station; the server who takes your lunch order; the receptionist you speak to on the phone to arrange a medical appointment.

These people often melt into the background of our busy lives, and sometimes the last thing we need is to use up our precious time to make eye contact, say thanks as if we really mean it, risk engaging with another human being…then think of what Jesus said in his story about God telling the righteous they can inherit his kingdom because when he was hungry they gave him food; when he was thirsty they gave him something to drink; when he was in prison they visited him; and when he was a stranger they welcomed him. They replied, “Lord when was it that we did these things?” For even the righteous, these encounters had melted into the background of their busy lives. But then Jesus gives us the punchline of the story: “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (100)

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says “The supreme religious challenge is to see God’s image in one who is not in our image”. Taylor echoes this when she says that “What we have most in common is not religion but humanity”… “the degree to which we believe that our faith is what makes us human is the same degree to which we will question the humanity of those who do not share our faith” (99).

A challenge then for us UUs, many of whom have found this faith later in life and who cherish its liberating force in our lives, but who still bear spiritual scars that make it hard to be accepting of those who profess other faiths, especially the faiths from which we are liberated. Jonathan Swift’s comment cuts to the quick of our self-assured tolerance: “We have just enough religion to make us hate one another, but not enough to make us love one another” (99).

The spiritual practice, then, of letting an encounter with another person change you, is a challenging one; it challenges us to get over ourselves. It challenges us to love our neighbors as if they were ourselves.

And there was evening and there was morning, the seventh day.

The final spiritual practice is that of saying ‘no’ – specifically, of creating a Sabbath space in our lives so we can say ‘no’ to busyness and yes to doing less. “And there was evening and there was morning, the seventh day.” Remember where the idea of the Sabbath comes from? The creation took 6 days, according to the book of Genesis, and so on the 7^th day even God had to rest!

The chapter by Taylor on saying no recalls for me growing up here in Augusta, part of the American South where the Sabbath really was a day of ‘no’ – no riding bikes, no going to the movies, no store open for shopping…and, as Taylor says, the commandment about keeping the Sabbath holy might as well have read, “Remember the Sabbath and keep it boring” (127). Those Sunday afternoons were sandwiched by church services morning and evening, and they were the times when I would sit on the front porch of my grandmother’s house with my aunt and sing through the Southern Baptist hymnal.

Taylor suggests we develop a Sabbath ‘vision’ where routines of the week give way to one day of family get-togethers, worship, and rest. The rise of consumerism and television since my days on the front porch have completely transformed the way we Americans spend Sundays. We have added more and more to our lives, but there is a quote from the mystic Meister Eckhart that we should pay attention to: “God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by subtracting” (121).

To have a day marked off as different from the rest – as Jews have with the ritual of the Friday evening Shabbat service – might remind us that in the story of creation God rested on the seventh day and even called it not just good but holy, “making the Sabbath the first sacred thing in all creation” (130).

Not only that: Taylor says that “if Bible lovers paid as much attention to Leviticus 25 as to Leviticus 18 then we might discover that God is at least as interested in economics as in sex. Because in that chapter there is a command for a Jubilee Sabbath once every 7 years when slaves are freed, debts are forgiven, property is restored, and there is “a year of complete rest for the land” (132). So while sitting on the front porch is not economically viable, it is a spiritual practice that gives rest “to each of us individually, our families, our faith communities, our neighbors, our systems of justice, our human economies, and our planet” (134).

Some of us are unable to say ‘no’ and can find ourselves regretting the constant state of stress that it causes. I once knew someone who would become ill every Sunday afternoon; Taylor names that tendency in many Americans as Sabbath sickness, the feeling of queasiness when you are enjoying your weekend but begin to realize that tomorrow it is back to the grind. You are enjoying your Sabbath too much! Taylor suggests that if we resist the idea of making the Sabbath holy, that we make 2 lists on one piece of paper: on one side list all the things you know that you want to do but never take time to do. On the other side, make a list of all the reasons why you think it is impossible for you to do those things. Then keep that paper where you can see it…and start small if you can’t give yourself a whole day of spiritual freedom.

“Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed”. Are you ready to worship at the altar of your world? Can you navigate in your own geography of faith? Can you lose yourself along the path of life – make time for encountering the stranger – say no to seven days of busyness? The blessings that we receive from our own spiritual practices will help us slow down, live with purpose and pay attention to this wonderful, sacred world in which we live.

May it be so. Blessed be. Amen.

Gaye W Ortiz

July 2012