The Ties That Bind Us

When I offered my "Kick Off the Year" sermon from this pulpit one year
ago this Sunday I assumed I was leading into my final year with you.
I'd say there's an object lesson there on not relying too heavily on
one's assumptions. Sometimes they can fool you.

We have been granted a third interim ministry year together as your
Search Team continues their work. I feel we can and will put it to
very good use. The very worthy and dedicated efforts of your Search
Team continue to go forward; and I know they do so with your deepest
support and appreciation. You'll be hearing from these fine folks in
three weeks as they offer the Sunday Service on October 8. They'll
share with you some of what they have learned about this FCU
congregation when it comes to your make-up; and what they learned
about the process of calling a settled minister in our free church
tradition; and anything else they may wish to pass along to you.

For today, I'm using my favorite Pete Seeger song to help shape some
of what I want to share with you at the outset of this church year.
You just heard Sarah sing it: "Oh Had I a Golden Thread." Using the
metaphor Pete offers, I'd like us to consider: What are some of the
"golden threads" that bind us as a congregation in the Unitarian
Universalist faith tradition? What are the threads, what are the ties,
that bind us as we embark upon another year together?  During the two
years we've now spent together, I've come to recognize, and to
treasure, some of those threads. I'll touch on some of them today.

There is the thread of care. We're hardly unique here in that regard.
Many, make that most, religious or spiritual communities-clear across
the spectrum-are ones in which the members show their love and care
for one another. I think that's one of the reasons why we still have
such communities. In the midst of the swirl of the activities and
demands, and the sometimes just plain overwhelming "stuff", that
inundates our lives we need a place where we know we are are loved
and cared about just for who we are. Next Sunday some members of
our Lay Pastoral Ministries Team will share some of their reasons
for being a part of this vital aspect of our congregational
life-and what they offer as a part of this Team.

This thread of care is part of a larger-and very multi-faceted, thread
of community, in all the ways community gets expressed and played out.
How we worship together, engage in various kinds of fellowship
together, how-together-we manage and govern ourselves, These are all
pieces of that greater thread of community. And in this third interim
year we'll be looking at how we can enhance and strengthen that
thread, and its various strands, as it gets woven through to the
fabric of this wonderful congregation.

There is the thread of the shared search; the shared search for
meaning and value and purpose and spiritual depth in each of our
lives, while also knowing that are lives are a part of a greater whole
in which we are each called to play a part. This is the thread that
finds expression in our worship life, in the various support or
theme-based groups we offer; and even in the simply fun times we have
with one another. They are all a part of the spiritual journey we
share, a journey that is undergirded by our UU principle that affirms
"a free and responsible search for truth and meaning."

There is the thread of conscience. One of our Seven UU Principles
affirms "The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process
within our congregations and in society at large." In addition to
caring for one another we also seek, and act on, ways to care about
the lives and the world beyond our doors. By care, in this sense, I
mean how we bring our values, our principles, our passion for social
justice, to bear upon the larger, human community within which we live
and move. What does this thread of conscience call us toward, and
demand of us, in the larger social, cultural, economic,
and-yes-political landscape we now find ourselves in? This is a thread
we'll be exploring together in the year ahead. Here's a few heads-ups
along this line:

Two weeks from today I'll speak to what I see as our need to come to
terms with classism-both within our UU congregations and in society at
large. I'll be drawing on part on a very worthy bit of work done by
our UUA's Commission on Appraisal called "Class Action: The Struggle
with Class in Unitarian Universalism." This will be followed up by a
program and workshop our Multi-Cultural Ministries Committee will
offer after the service so you can engage with the issue as well. This
will build on the White Supremacy service and program the MMC offered
last May. Among other things we'll look at the intersection of race
and class. You'll hear more about this as we go forward, and I hope
you can set that time aside to be a part of this very vital
conversation. 

On October 22nd our guest speaker will be Rev. Ann Willever. Rev.
Willever is a community minister affiliated with our UU congregation
in Franklin, Massachusetts. Last November she was part of the
protective witness effort with 500 members of various
clergies-including 55 UUs-with the Standing Rock Sioux in North Dakota
in opposition to the Dakota Access pipeline. Her sharing of that
experience will also encompass Rev. Willever's larger focus on Native
American and Environmental issues. A follow-up conversation with her
will also be facilitated by our Multi-Cultural Ministries Committee.

And then-one more heads-up for now-on November 12 our own Malcom Kroh
will speak to how we honor the what at that time will be the upcoming
transgender awareness week. This is yet another crucial part of our
thread of conscience, given the Presidential decreed ban on
transgender persons from our military, and the likely ripple effect it
will have in many other areas of our societal and cultural life in
which our transgendered fellow citizens live their lives. You'll have
an opportunity on that Sunday as well to interact with Malcom and what
he'll have to say.

The thread of conscience-your thread of conscience-our thread of
conscience, is one we'll be paying particular heed to in the following
weeks and months. Do plan to be a part of that ongoing engagement.

The next thread I want to hold up is one that is well interwoven with
the others I've cited, while also being one that calls for our
particular attention. I'm calling it the thread of a shared identity.

This is a tricky one, and one that many of our UU congregations across
the country struggle with. I'll move into this piece of the sermon up
by citing some lines that most, maybe all, of you are familiar with.
The theme song from the long-running TV series "Cheers."

"Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name And they're
always glad you came?  You want to know that you can go Where people
are all the same You want to go where everybody knows your name?"

One of the reasons that series was so popular and successful, in
addition to having a great cast and good writers, had to do with the
responsive chord it hit with millions of viewers. Whether we frequent
bars or not, we all want and need a place like that in our lives:
Where people are all the same and everybody knows your name.

It may well be quite natural and understandable to want your church,
your religious community, your congregation to be such a place. Like I
said, practically everybody needs a "Cheers Bar" of one kind or
another in their lives. I know I do. Well then, why not your
congregation? But, here's the hitch with that. If the Cheers Bar is
the model or paradigm for what you want your congregation to be, that
puts a ceiling on how much growth and development you can actually
have, or get to. 

Our stay here, our times together, are indeed-as Rev. Judy Deutsch
reminds us-is a "communion of people." Who do we invite into that
communion? How do we provide a welcoming space where maybe people are
not all the same?

Therein lies the challenge and the question: Is it possible to create
a shared identity as a liberal religious community wherein each person
feels a sense of connection with it, feels they are a part of a
greater and more purposeful whole, where their spiritual life is
nurtured, and their consciences are stirred and activated-even if it
is a place where not everybody knows everybody's else's name-and
they're not all the same when it comes to such things as station in
life, or economic standing, or level of education? 

In this same vein, can we find a language and ways of worship that
speak to, and affirm, a larger identity for ourselves even if every
single word of that language, and every aspect of worship life may not
resonate equally well with each and every member all the time? This is
another piece of that greater conversation about that "struggle with
class in Unitarian Universalism" that the Commission on Appraisal
raises, and it, too, will be part of the conversation on class that I
want to initiate on October 1.

We have to have that golden thread of a shared identity in order to be
a community-how we shape and define that identity is crucial not only
to the future of your congregation here, but to our liberal religious
movement itself. This thread of identity is one I feel worth giving
special heed to this year as you move ahead in your search for a
settled minister, and look for the leadership he or she can provide
you in the ongoing conversation as to who you are and who and what you
wish to be.

Still another thread-and it's one I find a little hard to label. It's
a dual thread. I call it the thread of retreat and engagement. I
alluded to it in my homily last Sunday when I spoke about my hike-my
retreat, if you will-into a redwood forest; and then my return to the
day to day world in which I live. I have another story on that theme
today.

On a bright, sunny, and rather warm day last August 20 I was on the
Boston Common with some 40, 000 other people in a counter rally;
counter, that is to say, to what was dubbed a "Free Speech Rally." For
the record, I am in favor of free speech. In this case the term "Free
Speech" was being used a cover for-among other people-white
nationalists who had come to feel emboldened following the events in
Charlottesville, Virginia and the President's initial response to
them. Representing no one but myself, and having no desire to infringe
upon the Rally organizers right to "free speech," I went to take part
in the counter-protest.

The Free Speech Rally itself never quite happened, although the
participants were given well protected time and space in which to hold
it. The very small crowd that was there left after about 45 minutes
into their allotted time. And there were some minor, and unfortunate,
incidents as things were winding down. But, as Boston's Police
Commissioner himself said, it was over 99% peaceful; and for that I
was grateful.

My story, however, has really nothing to do with what happened on the
Common itself that day. As I made my way there on that morning and got
off the 'T' stop at Park Street, I'd arrived early enough and with
enough time on my hands, to go in search of a cup of coffee.

Walking along the part of Boylston Street that borders the Common I
went by a large Episcopal Church. Its doors were wide open and its
ministers, along with some of its lay leaders, were standing on the
steps welcoming people in. First things first I went and had my
coffee, and a, ah, second breakfast, and then I went back to the
church. What they were doing I found to be quite remarkable.

In a rather large meeting space there were chairs arranged in
concentric circles with a very simple altar at the center-a cloth
cover and a couple of lighted candles. There were signs posted asking
persons to be quiet and respectful upon entering and being seated.
There was no service or ritual of any kind; the atmosphere instead was
one of a vigil.

It was a place to simply sit in quiet; for persons to sit and reflect,
meditate, or pray in whatever manner they do those things; and for as
long or short a time as they wished.  It was a place and a setting to
go inward, and become centered, before going back outward to all that
would take place across the street as the day went on. I even noticed
a couple of my UU minister colleagues from New Hampshire there, and
had a chance to chat with them on our way out.

I saw in that setting a demonstration of yet another thread that is
woven into the life of a religious or spiritual community-including
most certainly the one we strive to be here. It's the dual thread, as
I've called it, of retreat and engagement. There are times, especially
given the world and the times in which we live, where we need a refuge
or a retreat now and then. Refuge and retreat are not ends in
themselves, of course. If that happens they become self-defeating. But
sometimes we need to seek refuge and retreat as a way of becoming
equipped-spiritually equipped-in order to return to engagement. At
times we need to come apart and find an inner peace and an inner
strength wherein we renew our conscience and our sense of commitment,
which in turn then call us forth once again.

"Oh had I a golden thread and a needle so fine, I would bind up this
sorry world with hand and heart and mind." So wrote and sang our
dearly beloved and now departed Pete Seeger. May this be a place where
we come to bind up our hearts and our minds and our lives in order
that we may then go forth to do whatever we may be able to accomplish
in binding up our world in ways that will at least take away some of
its sorrow and allow us to experience some of its joys.

There are only four words you really need to know in order to sing our
closing hymn-although you may certainly use your hymnals if you
prefer. The words are love, hope, peace, and joy. We need to believe
that there is yet more of each one of these things to be found and
lived out. May the threads we weave, and the ties that bind us bring
us ever closer to them.

We'll sing the four verses, and then repeat the first one: "There is
more love somewhere."

Stephen D. Edington
September 17, 2017