The Rev. Jen Crow delivered this sermon to the First Unitarian Church of Rochester in July of 2005. I find her reclaiming of the word and very concept of “God” to be powerful and provocative.

Rev. Crow has also created a marvelous “Soul Deepening” program at her church called Wellspring. The website states, “Wellspring is based on the concept of a five spoke wheel that keeps spiritual seekers in balance and spinning with grounded principles. The five spokes are: spiritual practice, spiritual direction, covenant groups, UU history and theology and faith in action.” In addition to the full curriculum, there is also a blog at the site focused on spiritual practice. Good reading.

Her presentation at General Assembly in Portland with two lay-leader facilitators was extremely well attended, and I felt privileged to just sit on the floor at the front of the room. I’m already bugging that minister I know to get the program going in his church ASAP.

Enjoy:

Wholly, Holy, Holey

Rev. Jen Crow, Associate Minister, First Unitarian Church of Rochester, NY, July 17, 2005

Several years ago, during my ministerial internship at Unity Church — Unitarian in St. Paul, Minnesota, I sat with one of my mentors in his study. For weeks, we had discussed my spiritual practice of prayer — how often did I pray, he asked, what did I pray for, how did the act of praying feel, why did I return to it day after day and night after night. Each week the questions got a little bit harder, and I began to both welcome and fear my time in that office.

On this particular morning, my mentor asked me to offer a sermon to the congregation on my spiritual practice and how it impacted my life. A seemingly reasonable request, you might think, but the butterflies began working in my stomach immediately. In that moment, I wanted to push my friend away, push the question away, push even my own life-saving experiences away — anything to save myself from the admission there before someone I respected that I did not know why prayer had worked in my life, that I did not know exactly whom I was praying to or if that entity - if it was indeed an entity — heard my prayers or had any power to impact my life.

(Read on … )

Today, a prayer from the late Rev. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley, who served our movement well and left us much too soon:

Rev. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley

Pastoral Prayer delivered at Fourth Universalist Society in New York City on March 9, 2003

“O God about whom we know so little, but ask so much,”
Goddess of Justice, giver and sustainer all Life:

Your daughters and sons call upon you once again
as we did in centuries past.
We have known war, and once again, there are rumors of wars.
And so we come this morning
to lay this burden on the altar of prayer.

We know that violence cannot sustain us …
And so we seek a new way:
a way that leads to peace …
a way that leads to the promise of
freedom, justice, and security
for all the peoples of the Earth.

Oh Thou who gives us perfect freedom to find the ways of truth:

We know that democracy is a fragile thing that needs to be guarded;
And some of us see our nation taking a backward step—isolating and insulating itself from the world.

It’s easy to think that our voices are not being heard;
that we have been silenced.
And under such circumstances,
one can easily resort to disillusionment and anger.

But let our thoughts not turn to cynicism and despair.
Let our fears not become helplessness or hopelessness.

Help our leaders to transcend their delusion
about the righteousness of their cause.
Help them to respect the Sacredness of Life more than conquest.

In the coming days and weeks,
as we wander through pathways unknown,
“Grant us wisdom. Grant us courage.
Lest we miss your peaceful goal.”

Ashé. As’Salaam Alakim. Blessed be. Shalom, and Amen.

Source: the Rev. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley, as published on UUA.org as part of the Unitarian Universalist Perspective Liturgical Elements archives.

This piece needs no introduction:

Out From Walden

By Rev. Dr. Patrick T. O’Neill

2005 Sermon of the Living Tradition
Delivered at The Service of the Living Tradition
At The General Assembly of the UUA
Ft. Worth, Texas June 24, 2005

Dedication:
Listed among the roll of ministers remembered this evening in the year of their death is the name of my first Unitarian Universalist minister, the Rev. David Osborn, whose wife and partner for his many years of ministry, Janet, also died this year. Some thirty-three years ago, it was at their dinner table in Oradell, NJ, that I first shared my secret longing to become a minister. I dedicate this sermon in love and everlasting gratitude to David and Janet’s memory.

The Sermon:
When I found myself enrolled in theological school in Chicago a year after that fateful, confessional dinner at the Osborns’ home, our great UU professor James Luther Adams reminded us in his church history class that the word “tradition” in church history can be translated with two very different meanings in Latin. The first root word of tradition is “traditum,” a heavy-sounding word, which means “the unchanging inherited weight and authority of history.”

But a second, much lighter translation of tradition is the Latin word, “traditio,” meaning “a sense of the living customs of a community; the ongoing creative dance of ever-evolving meaning and practice.”

As illustration of the difference between Traditum and Traditio, JLA offered us the larger-than-life example of Tevya, the devout dairyman of Anatevka, in Fiddler on the Roof. When first we meet Tevya, he explains to us that Tradition – the heavy obligation of Traditum – determines virtually every aspect of his family’s life and his life as a man, as a husband, and absolutely as a Papa.

But as the story unfolds, we watch how this good man’s tradition-bound heart is repeatedly and ultimately challenged and overruled by his love for his three daughters, and we listen in on his anxious conversations with God as his independent-minded daughters, one by one, teach him the primacy of love over custom, teach him to choose L’Chaim, Life, the dance of traditio, as the highest ultimate reckoning with his heritage. As he explains to God his daughter Tzeitel’s decision to marry for love rather than by arrangement: “They gave each other a pledge- unthinkable. But look at my daughter’s face-how she loves him….and look at my daughters eyes, so hopeful.”

Tradition!

(Read on … )

Today’s writer is not officially a Unitarian Universalist, not a member of any of our congregations, but we like to claim her as our own through her poetry. Mary Oliver, whose books are published by Beacon Press (an independent publisher affiliated with the Unitarian Universalist Association), writes the most beautiful things, and they so often fit into the scope of a UU worship service. Last year at General Assembly, she delivered the Ware Lecture, at which I was fortunate to have an excellent seat.

This is my favorite poem of hers, and as it is my birthday today, I’m delighted to share it with you:

The Summer Day

by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Source: New and Selected Poems, 1992, Beacon Press, Boston, MA

This poem is also part of the Library of Congress-sponsored “Poetry 180,” a program conceived by former poet lauriate Billy Collins to encourage high school students to enjoy a poem each day that they have no obligation to analyze. Brilliant.

As the Unitarian Universalist Association’s General Assembly gets underway today, I bring you words from Rev. Nancy McDonald Ladd of the Bull Run Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Manassas, Virginia. Nancy’s words call us to remember what it is we commit to in joining a Unitarian Universalist congregation, and what a church is really for, anyway — a message I find apropos as we go about the business of the denomination.

“Why Church Matters”

by Rev. Nancy McDonald Ladd, November 27 2005

Today, I was supposed to preach about Joseph Priestley. In fact, this is the third time I have been scheduled to give this same sermon about Joseph Priestly from this pulpit and the third time, that, for one reason or another and with no intended disrespect to Mr. Priestley, one of the greats of English and American Unitarian history, I’ve found myself on the appointed Sunday preaching something quite different. Once it was because of a snow storm. Once I just had a better idea, but today, in this season of thanksgiving, I shelved old Joseph Priestley because I felt the need to give praise to something other than a fine historical figure in our long tradition. There is so much to be thankful for, here among us, in this place, this congregation, this church to which we come week after week. There is so much more to be thankful for about our tradition, and I’ve determined that the aspect most in need of praise today is the impulse that brings us here, the religious impulse itself, which, even unnamed, lies at the heart of all of our actions.

Since it’s prominent in the sermon title, let me begin with the word church and explain from the outset that by using this word I am not taking a measured stand on the official name of this, our congregational gathering. To be honest, I really don’t care nearly as much about what our name is as I care about is who we understand ourselves to be. In other words, I don’t care if we call ourselves a church. What I care about is whether or not we are able to live out the very best aspects of what a church can be.

For the purpose of this sermon, I’m defining the word “church,” as a specific religious community bound together by common religious purpose, and I believe that a church like ours can and does to do more than just get us in its doors. I say this because I have seen people, including myself and so many of you, be profoundly changed by the opportunity to live a deeply religious life within Unitarian Universalism.

(Read on … )

Father’s Day can be a tricky time for many Unitarian Universalist churches that have already closed up regular operations for the summer, so I am quite pleased to have found a award-winning sermon from the Rev. Anthony David, newly called to the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta, GA. This piece won the UU Men’s Network sermon award in 2002, and was delivered on Father’s Day in 2001.

Remembering Fatherhood

by Rev. Anthony David

Today is Father’s Day, and on this day we remember our fathers. I also am a father—I have a nine-year-old daughter named Sophia—and so it is on this day that I feel most aware of belonging to a tradition larger than myself, a tradition passed down from generation to generation, from my grandfather to my father and, finally, to me.

What is fatherhood? On a day like today, it is easy to get sentimental about fatherhood and to end up sounding like a Hallmark card. To be honest, sometimes fatherhood is the place in my life where I feel, most clearly, my “growing edges.” It’s funny. When I was Sophia’s age, I felt I was bulletproof, ready to take on the world. Now, at 34, my hair is turning gray and my stomach is becoming finicky so I have to watch what I eat. Just when I want to be all knowledgeable and wise for Sophia, I realize how much a work in progress I really am.

Well, I suppose I can take heart from something Bill Cosby once said: “If the American father feels bewildered and even defeated, let him take comfort from the fact that whatever he does in any fathering situation has a fifty percent chance of being right.”

(Read on … )

To build on Wednesday’s reflection on a Unitarian Universalist prayer life, today I bring you these words from Rev. Dr. Lindsay Bates:

Receive, O Mystery, the words of our hearts.

If prayer worked like magic – if I knew the words that would guarantee prayer’s power – I know what I would pray:

Let life be always kind to our children.
Let sorrow not touch them.
Let them be free from fear.
Let them never suffer injustice,
nor the persecutions of the righteous.
Let them not know the pain of failure –
of a project, a love, a hope, or a dream.
Let life be to them gentle and joyful and kind.
If I knew the formula, that’s what I’d pray.

But prayer isn’t magic, and life will be hard. So I pray for our children – with some hope for this prayer:

May their knowledge of sorrow be tempered with joy.
May their fear be well-balanced by courage and strength.
May the sight of injustice spur them to just actions.
May their failures be teachers, that their spirits may grow.
May they be gentle and joyful and kind.
Then their lives will be magic, and life will be good.

So may it be. Blessed be. Amen.

Source: UUA.org Worship Web, “Receive, O Mystery, the words of our hearts” by Rev. Dr. Lindsay Bates, Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva, IL

Bonus: You might also be interested in this post from PeaceBang (Rev. Victoria Weinstein) on what it’s like to be a professional pray-er, and a further reflection from Rev. Obijuan at Returning.

A midweek reflection on prayer seems appropriate — I know my work week seems to culminate on Wednesdays and I need a reminder every once in awhile to just breathe.

Unitarian Universalists have many different approaches to prayer. Since we as a movement don’t have a creed stipulating the existence of any particular god or gods, many wonder who we might be praying to. The Rev. Jenny Rankin from First Parish in Concord, MA, has a wonderful reflection on this very question. (Note — the fabulously poetry-like line breaks are her own.)

Pray without Ceasing: Creativity, Spirituality and Prayer

Written by Rev. Jenny M. Rankin, First Parish in Concord, MA
Sunday, February 4, 2007

We met in the parlor of the church last week
And it was quiet.
Mid week, mid winter, mid day
We sat in a circle,
Mostly women, one brave gentleman,
We sat,
Working with our hands on whatever we had brought
A scarf to knit, a block of a quilt to sew, a rug to braid.
In the parlor.
The room is warm and quiet,
the colors of the rug are rich and red.
It’s easy to lose track of time there,
Easy to lose track of lists and schedules and
All that seems so urgent in the world outside.
It is peaceful in this circle,
With the clock ticking,
Our hands moving,
And silence all around.

* * * * * *

(Read on … )

Today’s installment comes from the Rev. Victoria Safford, who serves White Bear Unitarian Universalist Church in Mahtomedi, MN. This article from 2004 appeared in The Nation:

The Gates of Hope

By Rev. Victoria Safford

In his book On the Rez, Ian Frazier tells a story about South Dakota’s Pine Ridge Reservation. In the fall of 1988 the Pine Ridge girls’ basketball team played an away game in Lead, South Dakota. It was one of those times when the host gym was dense with anti-Indian hostility. Lead fans waved food stamps, yelling fake Indian war cries and epithets like “squaw” and “gut-eater.” Usually, the Pine Ridge girls made their entrances according to height, led by the tallest seniors. When they hesitated to face the hostile crowd, a 14-year-old freshman named SuAnne offered to go first. She surprised her teammates and silenced the crowd by performing the Lakota shawl dance — “graceful and modest and show-offy all at the same time,” in Frazier’s words — and then singing in Lakota. SuAnne managed to reverse the crowd’s hostility — until they even cheered and applauded. “Of course, Pine Ridge went on to win the game.”

Here’s another story of daring, of the meeting of our passion and the world’s great hunger for justice: Thirty years ago, to march in the streets of any city, as a gay man or a lesbian, openly, took wild courage, outrageous imagination. But there was more. Those who were there tell us that once you have glimpsed the world as it might be, as it ought to be, as it’s going to be (however that vision appears to you), it is impossible to live anymore compliant and complacent in the world as it is.

(Read on … )

At the end of John’s second year of seminary, we attended the Unitarian Universalist Association’s General Assembly in Fort Worth, Texas. A couple of days before the big event gets started each year, the ministers and many of their partners and spouses gather for “Professional Days.”

That year, the annual Berry Street Address was given by the Rev. Burton Carley, now serving the Church of the River in Memphis, TN. It was nothing short of remarkable:

“The Way Home”

The Rev. Burton D. Carley
The Berry Street Essay, 2005

Delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Association General Assembly
Fort Worth, Texas
June 23, 2005

The desire may begin without understanding what it is exactly that you are longing for. One thing is for sure. The urge is wrapped with a hollow feeling that has all the weight of missing something. You cast about for what it might be that haunts you. A fleeting shadow comes and goes at the corner of the eye. Quickly you turn to capture it without success. After a while you try to dismiss it, rationalize it, ignore it, but the yearning persists.

A story seeps up from the internal depths, breaking the surface between sleep and waking. It is Moses and God in conversation. I never know whether to envy Moses or be among those who were wisely thankful that there was someone either foolish enough or courageous enough to risk being in the presence of such sacred power. In that narrative from the ancient past God warns Moses that no one can look directly upon the divine face and live. Then it occurs to me as if by some revelation that this deep down desire may have a source other than my own making, and that the way there does not take me to a strange, awkward, foreign, and forbidding place. It occurs to me that the way there is the way home, a path out of the hollow up to the hallowed. A sense of place becomes clear and Meister Eckhart whispers in my ear: “God is at home. We are in the far country.”

(Read on … )