The Culture is the Crucible

Connie Goodbread, Acting District Executive for the Mid-South District of the Unitarian Universalism Association of Congregations (UUA) when speaking about faith development will often say:  “Faith Development is all we do; Unitarian Universalism is all we teach;  and the Congregation is the Curriculum.”   Recently at a Regional staff meeting we were discussing the vision of Unitarian Universalism for the Southern Region and I mentioned that when we live our faith out in the community the Culture is the Crucible.

We only truly embody our faith and values when we live those values in the culture.  It is in the culture that our faith is put to the test to strengthen our mettle.  Currently our culture is resisting attempts to be compassionate towards others.  There are loud voices that claim  the individual is above all others; disregarding the worth and dignity of others.   Moves in our government to reduce taxes on the über wealthy and corporations  to the detriment of life giving services to the poorest in our country is received with high praise by politicians and citizens alike.  The recent GOP debate had an audience member shout ‘let him die’  to the hypothetical question  of a young man who chose not to get insurance and then had an accident which left him in a coma, should he be treated?  A bad decision on the young man’s part and lack of compassion by the Ayn Rand neophytes who place individual rights and a disdain for minor impositions above collective societal rights.   It is in this world where we either live up to what we claim to profess on Sunday morning or we fail to meet the challenge.

This is the test of our values as Unitarian Universalists. How well do we represent these values in the day to day? Do we speak up when we see someone being abused for being gay or discriminated against for being an immigrant? Do we talk with our friends about the deep matters in life or do we hide away to keep the peace when a disparaging word is said about another group ?

If being Unitarian Universalist is only good one day a week then our faith is weak and ineffective.  We should not continually wonder why our congregations are not growing and or why claims of irrelevance surface. If we are not seeking to live the principles that we covenant to uphold then our voice will continue to grow weak against the din and noise of the popular cultural shift towards Ayn Rand’s extreme individualism.

As a faith, as congregations, as individuals we need to examine how we embody the values our faith teaches out in the world where we breathe, and eat, and have our being.  This is not an easy challenge. It is hard work  this path we have chosen. Dag Hammarskjold wrote these words “This is your path, And it is now, Now, that you must not fail.”

I repeat Connie Goodbread’s words with mine added at the end:

Faith development is all we do;
Unitarian Universalism is all we teach;
the congregation is the curriculum;
and the culture is the crucible.

This is our task and our path. We must not fail.

We Begin in Water

We begin

in water

and emerge

with a first breath.

We will depart

with a sigh.

In between

that first breath

and final sigh

is our journey

a unique

unfolding

mystery.

 

(c) Fred L Hammond

Whose are We?

Reading:
That Which Holds All by Nancy Shaffer

Because she wanted everyone to feel included
in her prayer,
she said right at the beginning
several names for the Holy:
Spirit, she said, Holy One, Mystery, God

But then thinking these weren’t enough ways of addressing
that which cannot fully be addressed, she added
particularities, saying, Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love,
Ancient Holy One, Mystery We Will Not Ever Fully Know,
Gracious God, and also Spirit of this Earth,
God of Sarah, Gaia, Thou

And then, tongue loosened, she fell to naming
superlatives as well: Most Creative One,
Greatest Source, Closest Hope –
even though superlatives for the Sacred seemed to her
probably redundant, but then she couldn’t stop:

One who Made the Stars, she said, although she knew
technically a number of those present didn’t believe
the stars had been made by anyone or thing
but just luckily happened.

One Who Is an Entire Ocean of Compassion,
she said, and no one laughed.
That Which Has Been Present Since Before the Beginning,
she said, and the room was silent.

Then, although she hadn’t imagined it this way,
others began to offer names.

Peace, said one.
One My Mother Knew, said another.
Ancestor, said a third.
Wind.
Rain.
Breath, said one near the back.
Refuge.
That Which Holds All.
A child said, Water.
Someone
Then: Womb.
Witness.
Great Kindness.
Great Eagle.
Eternal Stillness.

And then, there wasn’t any need to say the things
she’d thought would be important to say,
and everyone sat hushed, until someone said

Amen.

“Whose Are We?” Rev. Fred L Hammond
21 August 2011 ©

Those of us who are old enough to remember the Hippie Movement, perhaps some of us even were hippies, when asking about a friend might hear, “’He’s off to find himself, man.”  It was a time of self-exploration, of dropping out of society, to wander across the country, to participate in vision quests in the hopes of finding oneself.  It was a quest that was often met with derision from the then over 30 crowd. But the quest is as universal as any other experience.  Who am I? Where do I belong?  What am I supposed to do with my life?

In some European cultures when their youth graduate high school would take a moratorium, a year or two off, to explore life a bit before going back to school for an advanced degree.  It is not a bad idea.  How many of our high school graduates know what they want to do for the rest of their life when they enter college.  How many change majors more than once as they attempt to sort things out for themselves.  The quest to find oneself, to become aware of who one is, is an important question to ask.  But if that is all we ponder then we risk falling into a sort of self-love that borders on idolatry.  We risk the fate of Narcissus, the Greek tale of a handsome young man who fell in love with a reflection of himself but found this love to be unfulfilled and subsequently died.

Rev. Colin Bossen interprets the story of Narcissus as lifting “up the importance of being connected to something other than, something greater than, ourselves. If Narcissus had been connected to something other, something greater, than himself he would not have died. The same is true for us. If we are not connected to something greater then we risk falling into a consuming self-love and spiritually wasting away.”[i]

So the quest to discover who we are, is an important one, but if it ends there it leaves us wanting. So as we ask who are we, we need to follow up the question with whose are we?  To what or whom are we responsible?  To whom are we accountable?  Who lays claim to me / us?

Last summer the Unitarian Universalist Minister’s Association began a nation wide conversation on the question whose are we?  And in the fall our various minister chapters gathered and began to ask the question of each other, whose are you?  We continued to answer the question to whose are you until we had no more responses left to give.  The response our listeners were to give to each of our answers was “God be merciful.”

The response was just as challenging as the question.  In the room were myriad concepts as to what god is or isn’t. The word merciful in this context also brought on debate, what is mercy? How can the Mystery, the Spirit of Life, the Spirit of this Earth, Gaia, One my mother knew, That which holds all, and Breath, be merciful?  And what is mercy in the context of whose am I?

In my own journey there are many who have laid claim to me in some fashion and whether they still lay claim to me today or not, these relationships have shaped my perspective on the world and shape my actions.

Whose am I?  I am my family’s.  I learned early in life that my actions and the actions of each member reflect on my family as a whole.  When I was growing up to say that one came from a good family was an important statement in society.  I experienced the emotional disappointment of others when expectations were not met by me or by any one of my family.  At some point in time we all fell short of the ideal we sometimes held high of the other. Sometimes we were able to find forgiveness for each other and sometimes forgiveness came too late.  God be merciful.

Whose am I? I am the earth’s.  My grandparents on my father side were conservationists. My grandmother would take me on walks and show me all the great variety of life that grew on their property.  She would point out the subtle differences between two varieties of Hepaticas, an early spring flower.  One variety had leaves rounded and another had leaves that came to a point but the flowers looked the same.  And she would reveal to me the diversity of life even within the same species.  A fern frond has one point and another frond on the same fern ends in two. All living things express diversity. Observe life on earth and it will reveal its secrets.

But the greatest secret of all was that all things grew out of the earth in one fashion or another and all things would return.  Whether it was the pitcher plants that would die off and sink into the bog on the edge of the old ice pond or the insects that would fall into its pooled water to feed it, all things find nourishment from the earth and all things would one day return to it, including me.  Spirit of the Earth be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am my childhood friend Glenn’s.  My relationship with Glenn was a life altering one. We were best friends in junior and senior high school, both gay, but back then both too afraid to say those words aloud.  I sought refuge in Christianity and Glenn found reconciliation and came out of the closet.  We remained friends and I would visit him every so often in our adult lives. Then in 1987, Glenn told me he was HIV positive.

I sought to find a way to support him from afar—that support led to my co-founding Interfaith AIDS Ministry, serving as board president then stepping into the Executive Director position when the fledgling agency lost its third director in about the same number of years. This agency went on to serve hundreds of people living with HIV/AIDS, preserving family integrity of families affected by this disease, and empowering youth to be prevention educators to their peers.

In the process I reconciled my own sexuality and was excommunicated from my Christian community. Glenn died before I became director, before I came out of the closet, but I was able to thank him for being in my life and opening my life to new possibilities. One who is an entire ocean of Compassion be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am god’s.  My favorite hymn from childhood was I Come to the Garden Alone.  Some of you may know it from your childhood as well. I loved the chorus especially where “He tells me I am His own.”  Believing that I belonged to god was an important part of my identity as a child and as a young adult.  As a child struggling between my sexuality and the churches teaching that my mere sexuality, prior to any behavioral expression of same, meant I was an abomination; the knowledge that I was god’s brought me comfort.

My childhood faith in a loving god and my young adult faith in a god who heals the broken was one of immense hope that belonging to god would bring me the deliverance I sought.  As I came to realize that my sexuality is fine just as it is; the deliverance I found was not from my sexuality but rather from a restrictive dogmatic belief.

I began to see the eternal as something far more fluid, far more flexible in expression than I ever realized. This realization resulted in being excommunicated from a community I called home, divorced from people that I loved dearly, shaken from a faith that no longer could answer my questions and opened the doors to a freedom I was only just beginning to experience.  Closest Hope be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am justice’s.  Two of my great grandfathers, my grandfather, granduncle and grandaunt were public servants.  One great grandfather served as Mayor and County Judge.  Another great grandfather was President of the Board of Health. My grandfather served as town supervisor.  A granduncle was a lawyer who assisted in rewriting the mental health legislation for New York State. My grandaunt, also a lawyer, was a consultant in the writing of the constitution for the country of Liberia until a military coup assassinated their president.

They served their constituents well and in the process instilled in me a sense of duty to protect the welfare of other’s rights and freedoms.  The duty of justice-making led me to support the formation of a people’s first chapter for the developmentally disabled, found an agency to advocate for medical care for people living with AIDS, coordinate the formation of Faith Leaders for Peace in San Diego, March to Washington for equality for LGBT people, and most recently organize an interfaith response in the form of yesterday’s rally; Somos Tuskaloosa: Neighbors against HB 56.  The drive for justice where oppression lives, the drive to empower voice where speech has been silenced is as deep a part of me as the blood the flows through my veins.  Yes, I am justice’s.  Refuge be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am my ancestor’s history.  I grew up on the legends of a proud family history.  Many of the legends in investigating them did not equal the reality of their lives.  Yet other stories emerged. Some painful to uncover like my 12^th great-grandmother Adrienne Cuvelier who is blamed for the first massacre of the Manhattan natives in 1634.  She is also the mother of the first white male child born on these shores.  Others emerged with joy like my 9^th great grandmother Anne Dudley, who was the author of the first published book of American poems. At my nephews wedding, a poem by Anne Dudley was quoted unbeknownst to the bridal couple that these words brought his 10^th great grandmother into the wedding ceremony.  There are grandfathers who fought in the war of 1812, the civil war, the Spanish American War, and the War to end all wars with the guns and swords from these wars echoing on our family’s walls.   There was the great-uncle who was the accountant for Thomas Edison.   And the host of ministers, too many to count who stood in pulpits and preached their truth.  There is the wonder; what of their life story still courses through my veins? Ancestor be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am the universe’s.  One who made the stars be merciful.

Whose am I? I am America’s. Great Eagle be merciful.

Whose am I?  I am my deepest desire’s.  Most Creative One be merciful.

Whose am I? I am yours.  Spirit of Love be merciful.

Whose are you? Who do you find yourself most accountable to in this life?  Who do you strive to remain in relationship with no matter what the cost?  To whom do you find yourself being shaped and guided in ways that are mysterious, ever unfolding, and perhaps enlightening?  That Which Has Been Present Since Before the Beginning be merciful.  Blessed be.

[i]“Who Do We Serve?” preached by the Rev. Colin Bossen, March 6, 2011 at Unitarian Universalist Society of Cleveland. As found at http://www.uucleveland.org/worship/WhoDoWeServe.php

What Endures?

I received an interesting comment  on my post A Unitarian Universalist Theology.  “…why should we concern ourselves on [relationships t]hat will pass , instead of what will endure?”

The question, even though I attempted to give an answer, remained with me.  Here is a portion of what I wrote:

What does endure? Everything that I see and experience dies in this universe including the stars above. Some ancient scriptures state that love endures. But where is love found? In relationships. I have never seen or experienced love that existed independently or was separate from a relationship between two or more entities. …  So if love endures as many various scriptures indicate, then focusing on relationships is a means to experience love and to have that love endure beyond us.

I have reflected more on love enduring beyond us and remembered several events in my life where this is true, at least in my life.  My father’s parents were conservationists, a term that today would probably be translated as environmentalists.  They co-founded the local chapter of the Audubon Society. The both loved being in nature;  exploring the various ferns and fauna that grew on their property.  I was fortunate to have them live across the road from me and so I was surrounded by their love of nature. They introduced me to raising Monarch Butterflies and other caterpillars.  They would teach me to be awed by the diversity of life even within the same species.  My grandparents have now been gone for over 40 years, yet when I stop to look at flowers or butterflies pirouetting in flight , or to listen to the warbler’s  song, it is my grandparents’ love that is being expressed here.  Their love surfaces to my memories and hold me in that grace.

I had a childhood friend who was my best friend through out middle school and high school.  He was gay. We continued our friendship into adulthood. And while I struggled with acceptance of my sexuality, he was able to be there for me. I  would argue with him about the sinfulness of it all and he would listen and still accept me for where I was.

Then Glenn in the late 1980′s was diagnosed HIV positive.  I wanted to do something that would let him know that I supported him, that I cared for him. An opportunity opened up for me to become involved with the founding of an Interfaith response to HIV in the Connecticut city where I lived.  This opportunity based in the desire to support my friend was to shift the direction of my life for ever.

I was on the founding board of this new entity.  Then I was president and then through some heavy duty risk taking, I stepped into the director position not knowing if sustainable funding would be established. That position grew into full time and then had a complement of eight staff.  Fifteen years later the ministry was providing family preservation supports to hundreds of people living with and affected by HIV.  We were educating our youth with a youth directed,  youth organized HIV/AIDS education program. We were doing outreach into the immigrant Brazilian population.  We were providing a full service food pantry with fresh meats, fresh vegetables, fresh dairy, fresh fruit and a nutritionist at 20 hours a week.  And we were the first in that community to be a tri-lingual agency with English, Spanish, and Brazilian dialect Portuguese spoken.

My relationship and my love for Glenn endured through this time even though Glenn did not live long enough to see or hear the full story of his inspiration on my life. He died just before I became director of that organization.

When I came out of the closet and subsequently excommunicated from the Charismatic Christian intentional community I lived in, it was my relationship with another friend that carried me through and lives on in me now.  Wayne’s wife was active in the AIDS ministry in those early years. When she retired our friendship thinned as friendships sometimes do. A few years had passed and she died.  I attended her memorial service and Wayne and I reconnected our friendship.  I was floundering spiritually.  Wayne invited me to attend his Unitarian Universalist congregation.   I did and while I did not join the congregation for a good length of time, I was beginning to sense that this was home for me.  Wayne was a good mentor for me.  He had a perspective on things that was delightfully refreshing.

When I began talking about entering seminary for the UU ministry, Wayne was the first to encourage me.  Wayne was a phenomenal knitter.  He was knitting me a sweater for those cold Chicago nights when the cancer thought in remission was discovered to have metastasized in the brain.  Wayne spoke with the knitting ministry of the church to finish the sweater even as he lay in the hospital bed approaching his final hours.  While I have not had much opportunity to wear the sweater here in Alabama, I treasure it as another example of love enduring.

In many ways these relationships continue on in my life in various ways.  It is their love that endures and sustains me.  They have shaped my vision of life and they have steered me into uncharted waters at the right time.  There are others whose lives have intersected with mine whose love endures and shapes mine.  I am sure that there are lives that I have intersected with and perhaps have shaped their lives, hopefully for the fuller, happier side of life.

This for me is part of what I would refer to as having a relationship with the holy.  That indescribable flow of energy between two or more that creates something new and different.  It could be something as simple as an awe and appreciation of the wonders of nature or the creation of a new entity that lets people know that they are loved and not alone with a frightening disease called AIDS.

And so I emend my answer. Love endures.  The physical may pass away, but the love shared endures and can still inform the present.  It is through relationships that love develops.  It is through relationships that love informs. It is through relationships that love shapes our lives into new creations. It is through relationships that our lives are directed on a path towards what exactly, I do not know.   Some say to the holy, some say to an afterlife of bliss, some say to come back and do it again.  And some say this is life is all we are given.  Whatever the destination, I have come to believe  having quality relationships with others is key to an abundant life.  And love endures.

A Unitarian Universalist Theology

One of the questions that ministers get asked is to discuss their personal theology.  Unitarian Universalists do not have a prescribed creed that we must believe in in order to be a Unitarian Universalist.  We are encouraged to ask ourselves those hard questions  and  develop a personal theology of what we believe and how this informs our daily lives.

My personal theology continues to evolve.  Today, I am much less concerned with doctrines that people hold and more concerned with the relationships that evolve around them. Therefore my theology has become more focused on the relational. What is our relationship to the holy?  What is our relationship to our past?  What is our relationship with our present?  How do the answers to these questions influence or dictate our future relational  experiences?

A person wounded by a spiritual violent religious experience who has not found some way to resolve that woundedness is going to relate to others in a much different manner than someone who has resolved that woundedness.  If they can begin to see the connection of their relationship to their past and in particular this past event to how they respond now, then perhaps they can begin to make conscious choices to act differently now.

I am less concerned with whether a person has a doctrine that states god is a father in heaven and more concerned with how this doctrine influences their relationships with each other here.  Does it enable them to be more just in their actions with others? Does it make them judgmental?  Likewise, I am less concerned with a person’s claim there is no god and more concerned with how this doctrine influences their relationships with others. Does not having a belief in god shift their relationship with one another? If so, in what direction does it shift—towards more compassion –towards more cynicism?  These questions do not have static answers.

Theology is only helpful and practical if it enables a person or a group of people to live their lives in a manner that is uplifting of universal values.   Our Unitarian Universalist faith is not concerned with whether you are a Buddhist or a Christian, a Pagan or a Muslim, an atheist or a theist. Our  faith is more concerned with how those beliefs help build sustaining relationships with each other.  If the beliefs we hold aid us in living an ever increasing compassionate and justice filled life, then those beliefs are transformative.  If these beliefs or doctrines hinder that ability, then we as individuals need to let them go. If we choose not to let them go, then the result is a breakage in the relationships.

I speak from experience in this breakage.  The Christian community I lived in during my youth could not let go of their doctrine that homosexuality was against god’s will for humanity. And therefore it resulted in a breakage in the relationship. As painful as this break was, it needed to be made in order for me to continue to grow in relationship with who I fully am, and in relationship with who I want to be—a more compassionate and justice centered person.

We live in relationship to one another and it is only in the relationships we have with one another that new desire, new opportunities, new avenues are found and developed. We heal others through our relationships with them. We do not know which experience in our life will lead to a transformation of a fuller expression of who we are at the core our being.

As I have already implied, there are theologies that would speak dogmatically another perspective than mine; however, their theology is valid based on the accumulation of their life experiences and how they have chosen to perceive those experiences. This is because I see expression of faith as an evolution and not a static entity. Where each person is in their theology is within the process of how they have made sense of their experiences to date. New experiences attract new thoughts which alter perspectives and ultimately how we perceive and relate to the world we live in. A theology that is relational reflects our Unitarian Universalist principle that each person is responsible for their own search for truth and meaning.

As a Unitarian Universalist,  it is not just other theologies that Unitarian Universalist hold but all other theologies that one must relate with in this pluralistic society. I believe the theology that I am embracing allows me to be in relationship with others who may have different theologies than mine. If we are going to strive to create a better world, then we need to find ways of being with the other that enhances the quality of our lives in community.

How Do You Eat Your Grits?

I have just completed my final Sunday service at Our Home Universalist Unitarian Church in Ellisville, MS.  I was the consulting minister there for four years.  In reflecting back on my service there, I have learned a wonderful lesson about what it means to be a minister and what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist.

Four years ago, Eunice Benton, District Executive (now retired) of the Mid-South District of the Unitarian Universalist Association asked me to consider coming to Mississippi to serve two congregations at half-time each.  She asked if I had ever lived in the deep south before and the answer was no.  Eunice wisely asked me to come down and visit before making any decision.  I met with the two congregations. The first congregation asked me the typical minister search questions; what was my theology, what are my views of religious education, etc.

The interview at Our Home held over dinner was one question and one question only.  “How do you eat your grits?”  I was a bit startled by the unorthodox question but I answered, “with butter, salt and pepper.”   I was then welcomed to come to Mississippi and be their minister. The rest of the dinner conversation was filled with logistics of transition and good humored conversation.  If I had answered with sugar or maple syrup or heaven forbid, “what are grits?” I dare say I would not be here to tell the tale.

How we create and sustain loving relationships with one another is the essence of our covenantal faith. Cultural competency is one important aspect of our faith that enables us to be in relationship.  The grits question certainly addresses this point.

Theology, creeds, or doctrines we might hold, while important to have them defined for ourselves,  take a much smaller role in living the Unitarian Universalist faith.  The real question, the vital question is how do we translate our theologies, creeds, doctrines into our day to day relationships with one another.  In short, how do you eat your grits?  Are you going to be able to relate to people who come from a very different background, a different culture, a different theological perspective on what is true and still find common ground?

This is where our work is.  This is what defines our faith as different from other faiths.  16th century Unitarian minister Francis David is quoted as saying, “We do not have to think alike to love alike.”   It does, however, help if our thinking, our theologies, our doctrines, and our personally held creeds aid us in loving alike.  If they do not help us in loving our neighbor as ourselves or to do onto others as we would want others to  do onto us,  then it may be time to reconsider our theologies, our doctrines, or our personally held creeds.

Our Unitarian Universalist faith is not concerned with whether you are a Christian or a Humanist, a Buddhist or a Muslim, a Pagan or a Jew.  Our faith is more concerned with how the doctrines of those beliefs help you build sustaining loving relationships with others.

If your beliefs empower you to be more loving, more generous, more able to fulfill your highest potential, more able to be just in your relationships, then that is what is vital to this life.  If they hinder you from being inclusive of the other, cause you to shun and fear others who are different, solicit an attitude of me and mine first, then those beliefs are not serving you well. It might be best to either let them go or re-examine them to find how they can aid you in living a more generous of spirit and heart life.

Unitarian Universalists recognize that what enables one person to become more loving and more generous may not enable another to do so.  And so for one person Christianity may be the path that empowers this love, for another it may be Buddhism, and for yet another it may be one of the Earth centered faiths. This is reflected in our fourth principle: A free and responsible search for truth and meaning.

Rev. Doak Mansfield, former minister at Our Home Universalist,  once stated that Unitarian Universalism in the deep south is about grace and relationships.  We best express our faith in how we relate to one another.  It is our personal relationships that are our best calling card for our faith.   It is also in how we develop our public witness for justice.  The desire to create partnerships with those who are oppressed and to follow their lead towards freedom.  Grace and relationships.

Wherever two or more are gathered, it is in the relational aspect of the gathering that the spirit of love is either present or absent.  Unitarian Universalists strive to allow the spirit of love to be present.  That is the essence of our faith the rest, to paraphrase Hillel, is commentary.

Blessings,

Two Poems in the Aftermath

The following two poems were written by me and used for a Listening Circle I facilitated tonight for members of my congregation in Tuscaloosa, AL who are putting the pieces of their lives back together again after the devastating Tornado that ripped through on April 27 2011. May there be peace in our hearts and minds as we continue our journey. Blessings, Fred L Hammond.

April 27 2011, Tuscaloosa, AL

After—the “Oh My God’s,” after—the tears,
After—the fears, unfounded and founded,
After—the adrenaline rush,
emerge the vacant eyes that stare
into the vortex of nothing
where something else once stood.
We—start the slow pace walks

through the thick black strap molasses of time.
Was it this morning—last week—yesterday?
that I—that you—that he—that she
asked, Is there life after all this?
Beneath convoluted rubble
is there hope of returning
to Eden’s garden?

The birds sing songs of life’s affirmation.
The flowers offer a rainbow’s promise.
Still some things take more than three days
to resurrect to their glory.
Tell me the songbirds’ song is true.
Tell me the flowers
are honest in their beauty.

***********

***********

Hope

I didn’t notice that
old maple tree’s buds swell.
One day it’s bare and then
the leaves are almost full.
Must it always be this
quiet explosion
that takes me by surprise?
Yet, I should’ve seen first–
yet, I could’ve witnessed
the flow of its sweetness.

Feelin’ Like a Motherless Child

Sermon offered to the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Tuscaloosa on 8 May 2011 (c) by Rev. Fred L Hammond. One and a half weeks after the April 27th devastating tornado that rampaged through Tuscaloosa. 

“Sometimes I feel like a Motherless Child” is a spiritual written by slaves in the Deep South.  They are remembering their African homeland that they have lost.  They are remembering their mothers, their families that are far from them either back in Africa or those who have been sold to other plantation owners. It is a somber song but it also carries with it a hope.  Sometimes I feel implies that there are sometimes I don’t feel like a motherless child.  Sometimes means not always but occasionally this is true.

As I look at the devastation that has been wrought on our community and the efforts being undertaken to get through these tough times, I can say sometimes I feel like a motherless child.  I can join in and say sometimes I feel like I am almost gone.

But then I recall a few things.  I recall that when I felt that I had no friend, friends stepped forward.  People stepped forward into that role of friend, of mother, of nurturer, of protector.  All the things that we hoped would be there when the tough times come have been here in this place.

Now is the time for us to hang in together and nurture one another. To hold one another in sacred space, to hold one another in holy space where our hearts and voices are heard and validated as vital to making us whole.  This is a time of listening deeply, not debating “we should do this or that,” not seeking the fixes which are at best patch a worn piece of cloth which will rip again in the first wash cycle.  It is a time of listening.  Listening to our stories and holding them close to our hearts and validating that we have heard them. Truly heard them.

Mothers are great at fostering this in their children.  When a young child is hurt, physically or emotionally or in any other fashion for that matter, a mother will hold that child.  A mother will embrace that child, perhaps rock that child in her arms, perhaps sing to that child softly, and perhaps rub that child’s back.  These are all methods of soothing the child.  These are methods of calming the child to be in that moment and to pause in that moment.

The question of what we should or might do next will arise out of our listening to each other.  The experiences we are living through are offering us a choice as to who we will be in the future.  I know the temptation is to make a quick decision which will get the trauma behind us and as far from us as possible.  But now is not the time to make life altering decisions, now is the time to simply listen, to simply be in the moment we find ourselves in. The decisions we need to make will come when the time is ripe and their birth is ready to occur.

To be clear, I am talking about the intimate decisions of our lives, I am talking about the personal decisions here.  The more collective and larger decisions that need to be made need to be discussed. The city is already beginning to plan out what it needs to do to rebuild the city.  And it is right to do so.  These plans will take a while to develop and implement but even the city is not yet at the debating stage of these plans.  Even they are in the listening stage. They are at the information gathering stage. They have rightfully placed a moratorium on developers in the city to slow that process down so rebuilding can be planned with dignity and with integrity.  We as a congregation might have a role to play in how Tuscaloosa gives birth to the new city that will be built. But even here, we need to be nurturing, listening, and hearing the story of our collective lives being told.

When 9/11 happened, everyone in the nation was affected by the horrors of that event.  The nation was in uproar and whether you agree with what happened next or not, the nation launched an attack against Afghanistan and Iraq. We as a nation were hurting.  One person that I know responded differently.  Sarah Dan Jones, Unitarian Universalist singer/songwriter wrote a song that offered a way for us to be held, to be nurtured, to be embraced perhaps by the holy.  Perhaps if we had taken what we know from our mothers and held each other and listened with our hearts to each other then perhaps the narrative of our nation following that heart wrenching day would have been different.  The song she wrote in response was this:

“When I breathe in, I’ll breathe in peace.  When I breathe out, I’ll breathe out love.”[i]

Join me and allow the song to embrace you, to hold you close.

“When I breathe in, I’ll breathe in peace.  When I breathe out, I’ll breathe out love.”  Sing four times

We are sometimes mothers to one another. Regardless of gender, providing a mothering, nurturing experience when it is needed is something we all can offer.  The movie “The Secret Life of Bees” tells the story of young teen, Lily, who remembers very little about her mother, other than a traumatic incident during a fight between her parents. She carries this pain with her.  Her father is abusive and has told her repeatedly that her mother had left them and on the night of her death had come back only for her things.  The mother was leaving the daughter.   Lily decides to run away from home, and takes the few items of her mother’s with her, including a jar label of a black Madonna with the word honey on it.

The Black Madonna label leads Lily to a house where the honey is produced and she concocts a story that enables her to stay there. The house is owned by three African American sisters, each with their own unique gifts and strengths.  In the parlor is a sculpture of a black Madonna with a fist raised to the air.  August, the eldest sister, tells the story of this wooden sculpture.  It was found by one of her ancestors sold into slavery and once adorned the front of a sailing ship.  It is seen by the women as a symbol of their strength to weather the storms of life.  These three women and some of their friends would gather to pray around this sculpture and then as a parting ritual would place their hand on the chest of the Madonna to symbolize their drawing strength to endure. The women drew strength from each other and became mother for Lily.  In living in the mystery of life’s unfolding path, in sharing in their individual and collective struggles, they were able to offer healing to Lily. They shared a different narrative about Lily’s mother than the one she knew as a young child.

We are able to draw strength from the mothers in our lives.  We can help create a different narrative for those of us who are traumatized by the recent events.   By gathering together and drawing strength from each other we can also begin creating a different narrative for ourselves in the aftermath of this tornado.

“Gathered here in the mystery of the hour.  Gathered here in one strong body.  Gathered here in the struggle and the power.  Spirit, draw near.” [ii]

Spirit for me isn’t some other worldly entity.  I leave the mind open for the possibility of that but when I speak of spirit, it means something else.  For me, spirit is that energy that flows between two or more people.  The energy can express itself as an emotional energy but it might simply be that creative interchange of ideas that creates something new when expressed by one person and heard by another.

There is a strong connection of spirit between a parent and a young child for example.  It is a bond that transforms the other to wholeness.   Those who saw the movie, “The Secret Life of Bees” know that spirit can be a double edged sword as it was between Lily and her father.  But the spirit that I am referring to is a positive spirit, the spirit that is filled with affirmation.  The spirit I am referring to is patient and kind. This spirit does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. This spirit does not delight in harmful actions but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Now those of you who know your Christian scriptures might have recognized that this spirit that I am referring to is love.  It is also the best expression of motherhood.  This spirit is not just reserved to mothers, anyone can exemplify these attributes.

In the wake of the storm when people are most hurting, most feeling like a motherless child, we are called to be mothering to one another.  We are called to extend that spirit of love to one another, just as the slave was able to sing, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child” and add the conviction that this was sometimes; we too can help those who are feeling like a motherless child to reduce that experience to sometimes.

Blessed be.

---

[i]  Story and text of song used with permission of composer, Sarah Dan Jones.

[ii] Hymn number 389 in Singing the Living Tradition hymnal.

Hang on Toto, we are going to Oz!

“Hang on Toto, We are going to Oz!”

by Rev. Fred L Hammond

Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Tuscaloosa

1 May 2011 ©

I began Wednesday with waking up at 4:40 AM thinking that a police car was outside my apartment complex with its flashing strobe lights on. It turned out to be lightening that was happening so frequently that it produced this effect. At first I heard no thunder and then the thunder and the flashes of lightening began to fall into synch with each other. Until finally the storm was over head and the thunder was loud and booming. I never heard the tornado sirens go off as the thunder was that loud. And thus began the day that was to change the face of Tuscaloosa forever.

When I knew that we were going to be impacted by the largest tornado in recorded history, I wrote as my Face book status: “Hang on Toto, we are going to Oz!”

We know the story of the Wizard of Oz. A young teen by the name of Dorothy is feeling out of sorts and decides to run away with her faithful dog companion Toto. She runs into a shyster who takes pity on her and sees in his crystal ball Dorothy’s aunt who is very concerned for her. This revelation sends Dorothy back home but a tornado is coming and Dorothy is unable to get into a safe place so she goes to her bedroom. The tornado strikes and she is knocked unconscious. She dreams the tornado lifts the house up and lands her on top of a wicked witch in the distant and strange Land of Oz.

She longs for home in this strange place and begins her journey to the one place and the one person she has been told could possibly help her, the Wizard of Oz. Her only guide is to follow the yellow brick road. A road that she discovers has multiple paths to the Emerald City. A scarecrow tells her it really doesn’t matter which path she takes. His one desire is to have a brain that will offer him wisdom. She convinces him to join her; perhaps this wizard could give him a brain because if the wizard can get her home, then he must be some kind of wizard. They travel through some peculiar orchards and stumble upon an axe man who is made of tin but has no heart inside his hollow chest. Perhaps, just perhaps the wizard could give him a heart of compassion. Their final sojourner to join her is a lion, the king of the forest, who alas has no courage.

The four of them continue on their journey to find the Wizard of Oz in the Emerald City. A city that is green with horses of a different color; where all is peaceful, safe, and utopian-like. In some ways this is the beloved community; where justice flows down like waters and peace like an ever flowing stream.

But their journey there is not easy. It is not without conflict or unexpected detours, or pain and suffering. There are setbacks and barriers to overcome.

And by Wednesday afternoon our own journey was thrust into an unexpected detour of pain and suffering. The tornado- a mile wide slammed into Tuscaloosa and changed our lives forever. Based on the initial reports, the tornado was going to come through central Tuscaloosa and then over into Northport. And so as I saw the live weather cam and saw this monstrosity whirl its way towards us, I put on my bike helmet which I haven’t used in over 6 years, and threw the futon mattress into the center hallway of my apartment. I crawled under it and waited. After about 20 minutes I determined the storm must have passed and I walked outside into sunshine. Sunshine.

Nary a leaf was disturbed. The birds were singing their song of praise as if there was no care in the world. I had no internet, no cable and so I turned to my neighbors to hear what news they heard. I began to get a sense of the path of destruction and I became alarmed. I began calling our people who were possibly in the path of this beast. And I was getting no answer, not even cell phones were getting through.

Eunice Benton, our District Executive had called within about 30 minutes of the storm. The first inkling of destruction was beginning to hit the airwaves. Were we okay? I did not know. I was beginning the assessment of who I could get a hold of. People began to check in but those that I feared for the most there was to be no word.

I had been able to speak with Ana, she was safe but unable to get to her neighborhood to find out if her house was still there. I called Janis who live across the street, was she okay? Yes. Could she tell me if Ana’s house was safe? Yes, it looked fine from the street. When Jake, Ana’s son, who lost his trailer to the tornado, was able to walk into the neighborhood he discovered that though the front of the house looked fine the back of the house was gone. The dogs were there but traumatized.

I received a call from Rev. Jake Morrill who is a UUA Board Trustee, a minister of our sister congregation in Oakridge TN and a member of the Unitarian Universalist Trauma Ministry. These are clergy who are especially trained to help assess, plan out responses, and support clergy and congregations who have faced traumatic events. I break into tears for the hundredth time. This time because the greater world of our denomination has taken notice of our pain and the yet unrealized pain to be and wants to be with us. The message is we do not have to go this alone. Some of you may have met him when he was here Friday and Saturday to help us plan on how we can move through this event to the other side.

Thursday morning, I hear from Alice. She is with her son at Edelweiss German bakery. I meet them there. Her son shows me pictures of the community where his dad lives. It is Forest Lake. I was in Forest Lake a few months earlier for a private memorial service and marveled at its pristine appearance with perfectly landscaped yards, beautiful gardens and flowering trees filled with a variety of song birds singing their symphony. The pictures were of some other place. There were piles of giant match sticks with the lake brown with debris. Our house had landed and if this was Oz, it did not match the travel brochures.

Alice’s ex was in that rubble. One photo revealed only two things of his house still present. The stair case and a TV armoire with knick knacks undisturbed on top were all that were left. It is curious as to what remains. Students from the University of Alabama came through and found him under the narrow staircase and took him to the hospital where he was stabilized. Without their courage to go forth to help survivors, he might not have lived.

The students’ courage gave me courage for what I must do next. I still had not heard from people in the path of the tornado. I was going to walk into the neighborhood to find out, fearing the worst and hoping that they were alright at the same time is a strange tug of war of emotions. I was going to accompany Alice back to her house. We drove down one road. Blocked. We drove down another road. Blocked. We drove down yet another road and this time, Alice gets out of the car and speaks to the police officer. We are given permission to park the car to walk in. The next thing we discover the police are giving us a ride into the Kicker Road neighborhood.

There is nothing left as far as the eye can see. No trees, no houses, nothing. I have nothing comparable to compare this to. Not even the horrors of the Tsunami’s in Japan match what I am seeing. At this point Alice asks, “Where are we?” This is Kicker road, a road she has traveled on for decades. It is unrecognizable.

By this time we had received word that our people in that neighborhood at least were safe. Their houses were uninhabitable but they were safe. But what we were seeing was beyond imagining.

There was still one more couple that I had no clue about. I had lost all internet connections which meant no Facebook access. I could not even post via my cell phone. Who could have predicted five years ago that any of us would be so dependent on this new social media vehicle? I felt cut off from the world. Rob and Celeste were near the Forest Lake community, very close in fact. There was no word. I attempted a few times to get into their community and was blocked by the police. The rescue teams were still searching for possible survivors.

Some of our members were doing volunteering with other organized efforts. Ed called me and told me he was going to be walking through the Forest Lake community so I asked if he would be able to check on Rob and Celeste. He did and called to report that they were fine and house was unscathed. So this means that all of our members are safe. Some worse for the wear but safe.

It was then it hit me that we are on our journey to Oz. Many of us just want a place that we can call home. We want a place that will give us shelter. We want a place that can be our sanctuary, our refuge in times of need. We want our church to be one type of home for us and we want our living space to be another. This tornado has taken both kinds of homes in Tuscaloosa. Fortunately our church home was out of harms way but at least six of our personal homes were threatened to be unlivable.

Some of us want to make sense of all of this. I heard one of our members describing the experience of the tornado moving over head as wrestling with the almighty. This event stirs up so many old tapes in our minds. I had a fleeting thought that maybe the Baptist minister was right about god’s wrathful vengeance descending after Tuscaloosa passed the sale of alcohol on Sundays. I know that is irrational, if there is an anthropomorphic god, he or she does not cast down arbitrary vengeance. But the old tape was there. Why these people and not those people in the next house or next block? Why this tree and not the one next to it?

We are a meaning making people. It is in our evolutionary genetics. We want life to have a purpose. We want life to be filled with meaning, with destiny. These events are hard to comprehend because there is no meaning in them. So some of us want to have a brain that can comprehend, make meaning, make sense, and most importantly fill us with wisdom that will guide not just us but others around us.

I was in amazement of the number of people who were helping each other. While I was at David and Sheila’s on Thursday, viewing all the trees that had crashed on and around the house; David had stated that he needs to have some people to come and clear the driveway so that their vehicles could get out. There was a huge tree and I mean with a huge circumference that had fallen across the entrance of the drive. And I don’t think it was anymore than a few minutes and some one with a chain saw began doing just that very thing. It was if his wish was at this other person’s command. The generosity of people helping out each other was astounding.

People came by with water and sandwiches for those working. Others appeared to begin moving debris out of the yard to the edge of the road for eventual pick-up. The heart of Tuscaloosa was beating strong and it rhythmically spelled out compassion. Our own members were part of this compassion sharing. I fielded many calls from our members looking for ways to help. And the offers were as varied as there are stars in the heavens above. I know many offers were not taken up just yet, but that does not mean there won’t be future opportunities. Trust me there will be future opportunities. We were pulling together to help one another and I was amazed at how quickly that came together. And I was amazed at how much was done in the short span of time.

We are under the gun with the threat of heavy rain and so tarps had to be put up. And we responded with urgency and with largeness of heart.

And along with largeness of heart is another kind of heart, one that has courage. The word comes from the Latin cor which means heart and the old French word which refers to the inner heart, a metaphor for inner strength. Some synonyms include bravery, fortitude, endurance, mettle, spunk, spirit, tenacity. Some of us are searching for courage like the lion in the Wizard of Oz for in the days and weeks ahead it will be courage that gets us through.

It was only together that Dorothy, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the cowardly lion were able to reach their goal of defeating the wicked witch of the West and in the process developing the character that is needed to achieve their ultimate goals. Together we too can make our way towards the Emerald City.

We will need to lean on each other for heart, for courage, for wisdom and we will need to be the ones who create a sense of home once again. In the days and weeks and months ahead as we rebuild not only Tuscaloosa but the lives of those so devastatingly impacted by this tornado, we will be required to come together in new ways. We will be stretched to find new wisdom that has been there all along but never recognized. We will be called upon to love one another with compassion in ways that may seem foreign to us but if we want to rebuild, this compassion is not an option but a necessity for our spirits to be renewed. In the days ahead we will be required to act with courage, with fortitude, with tenacity because there will be days that seem that nothing is moving fast enough for us. Every disaster that has happened in this country on this magnitude or greater has been fraught with a bureaucracy that apparently has wheels stuck in molasses. And to get through this it will take courage the likes of which we may not have seen before.

But we will survive this. We will take this experience and grow from it. We will learn to love one another in visible ways that we have never imagined possible. This will happen because we have already decided to do so in the actions that we have done in these past few days.

Later today, Rev. Bret Lortie from the San Antonio Church and another member of the Unitarian Universalist Trauma Ministry will be here. He will be helping us take the next steps of healing. Mary, our board president and I will meet with him this afternoon to map out his time with us. He will be here the next few days and will leave on Wednesday. His role is to walk along side us as we begin to process all that has happened. He again represents that we are not alone in this journey. Depending on our needs there may be another minister who comes for a few days after Bret.

But understand that our yellow brick road will continue for quite some time. We need to follow it together and Bret and others will be available to us help us access the heart, the courage, and the wisdom that is already within us to lead us home to Oz. Blessed Be.

Reframing Christianity

What if we got it all wrong about Christianity?  What if the crucifixion and resurrection is not the cornerstone of the Christian narrative?  What if the meaning of Jesus’ life is not the sacrificial lamb that has been slain for the redemption of the world?  What if there was a different meaning, a different purpose, a different narrative that Jesus was trying to teach humanity?  What if we have been distracted from that message by trying to find meaning in his death?

What if his torturous death on the cross was an attempt to kill an idea, akin to Gandhi’s assassination, or Martin Luther King’s?  When Michael Servetus was burned at the stake in the late 1500’s, Sebastian Castellio wrote “To kill a man is not to defend a doctrine: It is to kill a man!”  It was true with Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. their ideas were sought to be killed with their death. What if the ideas that Jesus taught were diminished in significance by glorifying his death on the cross?

The message that Jesus taught during his life was that God is love. Love one another. Be holy / be loving as your God in heaven is loving.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Place first the realm of heaven/ love above all else and everything shall be added unto you.  Be generous in all things; if someone asks for your coat, give them your shirt as well.  If they ask you to walk a mile, walk two. Love your enemies.

Contrast this message with God sacrificing his son to break the power of sin, the evils of the world in humanity.  God putting his beloved son in whom he is well pleased through torture, barbaric grueling torture for the salvation of humanity that is weaker, feebler, unable to measure up, unable to even come close to the love that Jesus exemplifies.

What parent would seek to punish a beloved child, perhaps a stronger, well meaning child for the wrongs committed by a younger, weaker, perhaps even physically feeble child?  What parent would then be called loving by doing such an unjust act against their children?

Rob Bell in his controversial book, Love Wins writes:  “If there was an earthly father who was like that, we would call the authorities. If there was an actual human dad who was that volatile, we would contact child protection services immediately.”  My comment on this quote was: “We [would] do the same for a father who punishes his older, stronger, more able son for the shortcomings, the wrongs committed by the younger and feebler son.  This is what God is doing when Jesus is crucified on the cross for our sins, for our wrongs committed.”

Now to be fair, the quote is taken out of context from Rob Bell’s text.  He is not talking about Jesus being punished for the sins of humanity.  He is talking about millions of people who have been taught that if someone does not accept Jesus in the ‘right’ way and they were then killed that very day, then God would have no choice but to punish them eternally with hell fire. Bell writes, “God would, in essence, become a fundamentally different being to them in that moment of death, a different being to them forever.” Such a god who portrays as being loving that would then become vindictive at the moment of death is no loving god. I agree with Rob Bell on this point.

I remember in high school, one of my classmates dying in a horrible car accident. The story went around the school that moments before his car accident he was being witnessed to about Jesus; he became angry and stormed off and consequently died.  The moral of this story was exactly what Rob Bell is saying.  My classmate because he rejected Christ was now in hell.  See what happens? God will take us out too, if we reject his son. How in heaven is this good news?

But Rob Bell’s argument in my mind is the same.  No loving parent would punish a good child, an obedient child, a child that models the best qualities of virtue for the inabilities, the inherent flaws in the child that cannot live up to those standards. No loving parent would call that love, mercy, or grace.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16) The key is in how we define the word “gave.”  To be consistent with God being love, crucifixion on the cross does not fit the definition.  Jesus tells the parable of the vineyard that a king had leased out.  He sends a servant to collect his harvest and the servant is beaten.  The king sends another servant and he too is beaten. So the king sends his beloved son, and the workers at the vineyard conspire together and kill the son.  The king does not give the son to be killed; it is what the workers at the vineyard do. God did not give his son to be crucified; it is the action that the people chose to take. At best the crucifixion can be seen as humanities abusive tendencies with all of life’s gifts to us.

There is a flaw in the theology surrounding the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.  Now I understand how such a flawed theology could arise.  Humans are meaning makers.  We want everything to have a meaning, a purpose.  We want our lives to be meaningful and not just the drudgery of the day to day indifference.  We have incorporated this meaning making into our clichés and platitudes.  When someone dies, we hear things like “God’s ways are mysterious” or it was “God’s will”. When we go through tough times we hear that “God is working his purpose out” or “God only allows what we can endure.”   We want our lives to have purpose, to have meaning.  So here was this man who lived and taught extraordinary truths on the nature of love.  He is betrayed, he is tortured, and he is crucified on a cross.  We want this to have meaning. We need it to be filled with profound meaning.

What possible meaning could it have?  He lived in a culture that valued the notion of substitution of wrongs through sacrifice.  This is the culture of the scapegoat.  This is the culture that had stories of child sacrifices with Abraham offering up his son to God. This is the culture that believed that blood rituals could bring atonement for sins. It makes sense that this culture would seek meaning in this manner.

But this is meaning that contradicts the very teachings of Jesus.  This is meaning that makes salvation into a three minute sinner’s prayer with no more commitment than that to achieve life eternal.  Salvation becomes marketable and easy. This life is filled with grief and sorrow but there is pie in the sky with Jesus.  All the focus is on the here after and no concern on the here and now.

Rob Bell states in his book, “Often the people most concerned about others going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death.” 

But if the meaning of Jesus’ life is not the atonement of sins to enable our safe passage into heaven, then what is his good news?  How do we make sense of his death?

Jesus saw his life to “proclaim release to the captives and the recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  (Luke 4: 18-19) His life was to show the power of love, justice in the world.  His life was to offer a new way of being that was not caught up in greed, coercion, or power abuse; be it physical, emotional, psychological, or corporate abuse.

This is a harder message to absorb. It is not a quick fix salvation. It sometimes points the finger of justice directly at where we live and convicts us. But it does seek to embody love in a way that is liberating in the here and now. It proclaims that not even death can stop it from progressing forward. Love is more powerful than death.  Love will resurrect in the hearts and minds of those who seek after it. It proclaims that we can be a part of that message if we seek to love one another.

“Perhaps the story of the physical raising of a dead man to life is an allegory of something else like the hope and promise of resurrection in the living of our days.  In the days that followed the biblical story, there was a change in the people who had followed Jesus. We are told they were all in hiding, in fear of their lives when their teacher was killed.  Over the next few weeks, they began to come out of their own self imposed tombs to begin spreading a message they had learned from their teacher. They tapped into the message of Jesus’ ministry of love and justice for others and began to see new possibilities for their lives.  It was as if the words of this man began to live within their own hearts, and created a new perspective on how they viewed life.  The embodied resurrection was empowering them to create their lives anew with the message they had heard. “[From “The Silence of the Resurrection” © 2009 Rev. Fred L Hammond UUCTuscaloosa)

Our focus then should not be on the crucifixion of Jesus. It should not even be on the resurrection. These are just footnotes to the narrative that was Jesus’ teachings. Our focus in this narrative is on what Jesus taught.  How are we to live our day to day lives?  How do we help bring release to the captors and set the oppressed free?  How do we love one another? How do we embody the teachings of Jesus so that they too transform us and the world around us?  How do we love one another, especially the ones who have caused us pain?

These are the vital questions to be asking ourselves. These are the questions that will re-frame  and transform our lives in profound ways.    Blessings,