Sermons by Reverend Don Beaudreault
Deep Caring
Rev. Don Beaudreault
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota, FL
March 19, 2006
OPENING WORDS: “Each time (one) stands up for an ideal…”
Each time (one) stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, (one) sends forth a tiny ripple of hope...and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
Robert F. Kennedy
MEDITATION READING: “Causes Yes, People No!”
Give me causes, Oh God, to theorize.
Argue, talk about, Let me think
Of problems far away.
Let me go to luncheons, dinners,
For tired celebrities, with long
Speeches, speeches about causes.
Let me raise money, money to support
big offices with large staffs, staffs
to do a little good for someone,
Somewhere far away.
Give me causes, Oh God,
Causes to forget
The miseries that are too close to hide,
But don't Oh God, Don't let me be
involved
With people. People are too near.
People may enter my home, may cry
before my eyes.
People can be hungry, ragged, even
dirty.
They may ask me to give -- to give
Without publicity.
People may be rude.
They may ask me to identify with them
Intimately, when all I want is not
To be involved.
I want to be interested, God, yes
Interested. Causes help me to be
interested.
And informed. People get me
involved.
So give me causes, Oh God, to theorize,
Argue, talk about. Let me think
of problems far away.Vilma Szantho Harrington
SERMON: “Deep Caring”
“When you see a snake, don’t hang around to ask it where it came from.”
That’s what my Appalachian uncle used to tell anyone who would stay around long enough to hear his story. Indeed, he loved to tell about his nearly fatal encounter with a rattler down along the banks of Wills Creek. “It was the same creek old George Washington once swam in,” Uncle Billy used to say with pride, “but I don’t know if George ever got bit by a snake the way I did.”
In fact, Uncle Billy was historically accurate about Washington’s swim, presumably having learned the story from the oral tradition of my family and the other families who settled that part of the region. I was later to read a biography of our first President, and discovered that my uncle had been correct. Truly, none of us ever knew what might be in Uncle Billy’s head or where he got it. He probably didn’t either.
The story goes that he had been dropped on that head when he was a baby. Nobody ever confessed to the deed. But that was the reason, family lore had it, that his IQ was in the low digits. Still, it didn’t really seem to matter to anyone, given the accepting nature of our family and of the village where he lived. He was kin, we loved him, and there was nothing more to say on that score.
The most amazing thing about Uncle Billy was that today’s psychologists would probably label him as an “idiot savant” – you know like the character Dustin Hoffman played in the movie “Rain Man.” Such a term literally means “learned idiot” and refers to a person who, despite mental challenges, possesses a highly developed talent – for example, the ability to solve complex mathematical problems at great speed, or to play music without ever having a lesson.
When it came to music, my uncle was no “idiot.”
And I have heard that the politically correct term these days drops the word “idiot” from “idiot savant.”
Well, I do know that Uncle Billy was a genius of sorts – a musical one - of the country music and hymn variety. Having heard a piece only once, he could then sing it while accompanying himself on the guitar. And he never had a music lesson.
He got to be famous in our little town, and in the other neighboring little towns. And one day, a fellow from a radio station came to hear Uncle Billy perform at my Great Uncle Rick’s bar near the railroad tracks. The man offered him a spot on his show. But Uncle Billy was so agitated by the thought of “progress” that he was unable to accept the offer. He much preferred doing his own thing the way he wanted to do it and when he wanted to do it.
It was a tragic commentary on the times in which we live, that Uncle Billy was to end his life the way he did. You see, for some people in our country, Uncle Billy became the snake he warned others to stay away from.
The reality is that there are lots of “snakes” around us, all of them wanting to get to know us. But my Uncle Billy was somewhat wrong: not all snakes are dangerous – and this might even include the poisonous ones. We just need to know how to handle them. But we never will if we run away and hide from them – or kill them because we are ignorant of their worth.
Even the kind of rattler that bit my uncle is revered as a holy symbol by some in the Appalachian hill country where he grew up – although not by my family. The “snake handlers” in these more fundamentalist Christian churches, feel that God is manifested through these animals.
Although this specific type of “Snake Theology” is not within our Unitarian Universalist tradition, it does illustrate the need for all of us to be open to the good possibilities within the presumed dangerous things or people in our society. And that can be a kind of “Snake Theology” for us within the liberal religious tradition – one that speaks of caring for others – “deep caring.”
In fact, the first stated principle of our Unitarian Universalist movement says that we “covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Isn’t that “Snake Theology”? The principle is predicated upon our historic belief in hoping and working for the perfectibility of humanity, realizing, of course, that none of us ever will be perfect.
Foundational to this Unitarian Universalist belief is the reality that we and other organizations that promote deep caring of others have based our principles on the universal spiritual principles.
Consider some of these connections:
The appearance of God to Father Abraham in the Old Testament. According to the book of Genesis, "The Lord appeared...by the terebinths of Mamre; (Abraham) was sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day grew hot. Looking up, he saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them and, bowing to the ground, he said, `My lords, if it please you, do not go on past your servant. Let a little water be brought; bathe your feet and recline under the tree. And let me fetch a morsel of bread that you may refresh yourselves...." (Genesis 18:1-5)
Strangers in a strange land, but receivers of Abraham's care.
"Whoever on showing compassion is bent, from the Patriarch Abram may claim his descent," says the TALMUD.
In Greek myth, too, love towards strangers is a sacred virtue. Sometimes the god Zeus is called "xenios Zeus" -- Zeus of the strangers. And "philoxenia" -- love of strangers, coupled with "philadelphia" (love of one's brother and sister") form the unified virtue of charity and philanthropy.
When Odysseus and company are trapped in old Cyclops' cave, the former begs the latter: "Nay, mightiest one, reverence the gods; we are thy suppliants; and Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and strangers, who ever attends upon reverend strangers." But the old monster, Polyphemus, in refusing such compassion, illustrates his alienation from humans, and by extension, from the gods and goddesses.
In Christian history, around 1200, came the establishment of the Knights of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem (known as the Knights Hospitallers). This religious order was created in order to minister to the physical and spiritual wounds of the First Crusaders. Its members came from the most powerful noble families in Europe, but became the serfs, while their patients, often what we would today call "the homeless" became the lords. Here was the concept that the way to self-perfection was through service. The expectations of the knights included the one saying that they "shall serve the sick cheerfully, and should do their duty by them, and serve them without grumbling or complaining." ("Parabola Magazine," Winter, 1990, p.58)
Of prime importance, then, in understanding the nature of these spiritual concepts of compassion and caring is to realize that such a reality implies one is not merely feeling compassion but is acting with compassion.
"The stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." (Leviticus 20:34)
This love, this compassion means that works of mercy are necessary.
And yet, what we humans more frequently do is to get sentimental about those who are calling out for our compassion. But sentimentality is NOT compassion. "It is a flight from action, a flight from politics and a flight from justice-making," says that avant-garde priest Matthew Fox. Instead of carrying out the prophet Isaiah's commands of mercy by feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and sheltering the homeless poor, we say we want to do so, or say we feel sorry about such realities. We don't actually DO anything.
"My children," says St. John, "our love is not to be just words or mere talk, but something real and active."
Deep caring, then, is not merely a turning inward, not merely a reflecting upon the evils of the word; it is not pity, not piety, not piousness, close-offness, removal from the world; rather, it is full, passionate commitment to and involvement with the world, bringing one's feelings and thoughts into play with one's active participation. Caring is the very basis for spirituality. Sadly, the compassionate origins of the world's great religions are often forgotten in today's established religion. Caring, it can be said, is not religion. Rather, caring is a way of life.
Matthew Fox states: "I believe that a Way of life or a spirituality is the living that spiritual people engage in, whereas religion is what empires need to sustain themselves." (A SPIRITUALITY NAMED COMPASSION, p.25)
Interestingly, a psychological study done by William Eckhardt concludes that "compassion was not consistent with conventional religiosity...(as) conceived and practiced in our culture today" and "compassionate theists are in the minority."
So, compassion, in its deepest meaning, means a way of life, not (necessarily) a way of religion.
By implication this proposition of deep caring includes our facing the hard things about others and ourselves, not just the palatable ones. We must nod in agreement with Shakespeare when he says:
This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.
By recognizing this aspect of being human, we can achieve meaning and purpose in life far greater than if we had merely lived on the “light” side of life.
John Halifax, too, speaks of “darkness” in his book The Fruitful Darkness when he tells of our relationship to the ecological system:
Poisonous’ plants and creatures can be invoked as protectors, protectors of place. Within a bioregion, they protect the deeper forest and are allies to their ecologies.
As allies of human beings, they protect against drowsiness and insensitivity, preventing us from charging through fragile terrain with a heavy foot and blind eye.
Indeed, snakes – even the seemingly poisonous ones and non-reptilian kind – might just be our friends. After all, we and they and the entire ecosystem are part of that interdependent web, aren’t we? In fact, snakes have been worshipped throughout time and culture. Serpent mythology is arguably the most widespread mythology known to humanity.
I guess this is what I want to say to you today: when you think you see a snake, don’t be afraid of it. It might, indeed, be a sign from heaven! It might be a way you can really practice your spirituality, instead of merely talk about it over a cup of Starbuck’s "venti" this or that.
It might be a way you can really connect with another human being. That street person before your eyes, might just be an example of what Emerson referred to as part of the “Oversoul”:
Within us is the soul of the whole; the wise silence, the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal One. When it breaks through our intellect, it is genius; when it breathes through our will, it is virtue; when it flows through our affections, it is love.
Embracing the idea of the Oversoul is about facing the truth: that there is so much suffering in the world, that none of us can ever help ease it all, but we can do something – no matter how seemingly insignificant. In Theodore Parker’s words, each of us can help to “happify” a world in need.
Truly it is about doing what we can NOW - not SOME day.
Tragically, my Uncle Billy, too, became a street person, dying penniless in a big city far away from the Appalachian hills he knew. He was among the 760,000 who are homeless throughout America every night and among the 22% of homeless in our American cities who are mentally ill. At the end of his life, having lost contact with our family, no one else in the world saw him as anything but a dangerous snake, instead of as one of God’s beautiful creations.
Let me close with a poem I have written about the interdependence of life. I call it “Tapestry” and dedicate it to my Uncle Billy and to all those other “snakes” in our midst:
Out of the strands of our lives we make a tapestry –
Places, times, people, events;
We weave a common cloth.
Out of soft memories and rough realities
We stitch each thread.
A pattern emerges
In this place and time,
With these people and events.
We bring forth our wounds
For all to share;
We seek perspective,
Wanting not to be alone.
We claim our joys and our foolishness,
Our cruelty and charity;
The birthright of every human: to make mistakes;
To triumph.
Our tapestry is a nurturing cloth,
Created from our daring to be who we are.
It is pure spirituality,
Cloaking us in love, each for the other.
So may our bond continue;
May the relationships we’ve discovered progress.
Weaving this connection called
“Tapestry.”
CLOSING WORDS: “The whole idea of compassion…”
The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another and all involved in one another.
Thomas Merton