February 23, 2003
Rev. Dr. Frank Carpenter,
D.Min.
St. John's Unitarian Universalist Church, Cincinnati, OH
Ever-present and All-forgiving Love, gladly we gather together again as creatures of this sparkling blue planet.
We rejoice in this opportunity to begin again a time of hope and renewal of all good things. Gathering with friends in this hospitable sanctuary, we offer our thanks.
We are grateful for the true inner worth of each person. We rejoice in the moral center that illumines each of us, that we may know the difference between right and wrong, that we can overcome our own selfishness and be of help to others. We give thanks for this guiding beacon of hope.
We give thanks that all people may be restored to hope.
We give thanks that those who despair may be transformed by hope.
We give thanks that the sick and suffering may be restored to hope through friendship and compassion.
We give thanks that the victims of violence and war may be restored to hope through our mutual struggle for peace.
We give thanks that GLBT people may be restored to hope through our campaign for fairness.
We are grateful that we are restored to hope through acknowledging our common bonds.
We are grateful to begin anew our universal quest for faith, hope and love.
In the stillness of this moment and the peace of this hour, may you know hope.
May you walk in ……Amen.
It’s good to be gathered together here again. After summer, we draw together to enjoy the hospitality of this place and of our friends gathered here.
Today we are beginning a new church year. We have changed to our 11:00 am start time. Our Choir is back singing again. We have committed ourselves to support our religious education program as it starts again. We begin anew. We gather seeking a renewal of hope, a renewal of hospitality
Such a time as this, a time of new beginnings, is a time of thoughtfulness, a time of caution. Whenever we start something new, it is good to take pause and ask ourselves just what we are doing. .
Whenever we start something new, let us take pause. Let us ask ourselves, “Why?” “Why am I here?”
Of course, I cannot answer for you. What is my answer? Why am I here? It could be superficial, I could say because I need to earn a living, but I can think of other ways of earning a living. I could tell you my story, how I grew up an Episcopalian, became a Unitarian Universalist in High school. I could tell you about the end of my junior year in college, studying with that wonderful scholar of religions, Huston Smith, and how I made my decision to enter the ministry.
Yes, I could tell you about that. And it would be deeper, more authentic than mumbling about making a living. Yet we all know how currents run deep in our lives, some deeper than others. Making these decisions are not why, they are more how I got here, how I got to be a Unitarian Universalist minister, not so much why.
Do we ever really know the why of our lives? Doesn’t the answer change when we ask “Why am I here?” Over the years I have wondered, just why I have brought myself to this profession, to this place and this time. I’m not sure I have the answer, or whether I will be telling this same story a year from know.
But over the years as I ask myself why am I here, only about one story of my life comes to mind. I recall growing up as the only child of a single mother. She was well educated, married well, at least so she thought. But it was not easy. She had to work hard and make difficult decisions about my care.
When I was in my lower teens, she was in her late fifties. Things started to go wrong, I don’t know just how or why. But she had trouble finding a job, certainly a job that used her talents and education. Finally we moved back to be near the family she had grown up with. It was important for her to be near those who would support her. She did work that was not as challenging as what she had down before.
My single mom, was an older woman. It’s not the easiest thing to be today. Forty, fifty years ago, a single mom was not easy either. It is hard to read any one’s mind, but it seems to me that as she grew older, she lost hope. Besides worrying about how to take care of the day to day things, and working for people less able than herself, she had to worry about what to do for a young teen age boy.
I grew up with an aging single mom. As she aged I could feel with her as her life slipped away. She died when I was fifteen and she sixty. On her death certificate it says she died of pancreatic cancer. I don’t believe it, not for a minute. No, my mother died from a loss of hope. And ever since then, I have been terrified by what it means when someone looses hope.
That’s why I am here. We all need hope. I want to proclaim that there is hope for all. I cannot carry you, no more than I could carry my mother. But I can carry the message. Be hopeful. Together, we can find the way where there is no way.
I was reminded of this when Jacquie and I attended the 40th anniversary celebration of Dr. King’s March on Washington at Eden Park ten days ago. Much of the talk was about Over the Rhine. Harry Belafonte said that when people asked him if Dr. King’s dream had been fulfilled, he would answer, go walk the streets of Over the Rhine. Damon Lynch, III, spoke. He said that many cities had second names. Chicago is the Second City, New York is the Big Apple. Philadelphia is the City of Brotherly Love. He wants Cincinnati to take up the name, “the City of Hope.”
The City of Hope. That’s what we all need! Hope. If you want to know despair, walk the streets Over the Rhine. If you want to know negativity, think about being trapped in drug addiction. If you want to know misery, imagine the desolation of living in the war torn Middle East. Would you know low-self-esteem? Crawl off into a closet. Yes, it is all too easy in our world today to walk in the valley of the shadow.
What we need, what all people need, is hope.
Hope is a funny thing. You can’t really define it. If you can say what you are hoping for, it begins to become more concrete, more of an expectation. Those things we really hope for, to be loved, to be saved from pain and poverty, these things are ever in the becoming. Hope is ever “hope in things unseen.” Once we see them, they are gone, they are other than we thought they would be, reality settles in. Yet we must hope all things. Perhaps hope is ever blind, for in our darkest hour, we must hope beyond the veil of night to some great light.
There cannot ever be a completely rational, logical basis of hope. Hope is the bird the sets flight in the darkest hours just before dawn, while yet logic sleeps. Yet I can give some of my thoughts about why hope is real for all of us, and for each of us.
As Unitarian Universalists our hope is based in the supreme worth and dignity of every human being. No matter how much our moral center has been marred by abuse of others or by our own negligence, to be human is to know our moral center which we call our dignity. In our responsive reading this morning, we responded to the affirmations we make as Unitarians Universalist. The Principles and Purposes of the Unitarian Universalist Association say we covenant to affirm and promote self-esteem, the first principle being, the inherent worth and dignity of every person. It is in this celebration of our moral center, the divine spark in each one of us, that we rest our case for hope.
We believe that no person wants to live in misery. Further, we believe that all persons can understand, from their own experience, that no one else wants to live in misery. And surely, this is a hope, not a reality.
When we move from talking about human dignity as a metaphysical concept or religious principle, to some thing that we experience; to something that grabs us by the throat, we talk about self-esteem. Self-esteem! How do you feel about yourself? Do you like yourself? Do you feel useless or worthwhile?
What do you do when you
feel less than you want to? when your self-esteem runs down? Virginia Woolf
once remarked; Without self-confidence we are as babes in the cradle. And how
can we generate this imponderable quality, which is yet so invaluable, most
quickly? By thinking that other people are inferior to oneself.
Isn’t that easy, as she says, so quick! But it is our faith that all of
us are of equal worth, that all of us are worthy of a wondrous hope. Those who
separate themselves from humanity separate the saved and the dammed and rejoice
in looking down on others in their misery. If you get your self-confidence by
thinking yourself better than others, then you will think that rich and poor
are moral categories. We all slip and have moments when we bolster ourselves
up by thinking we are better than others. Such are not our best moments.
We can look down on others only if we separate ourselves from them. But isolating ourselves is the surest recipe for negative feelings of self-worth. Self-confidence based upon thinking ourselves better than others leaves others thinking less of us.
Looking down on others is not the way of self-esteem, it is not the way of hope, it is not the way to make a way where there is no way. How shall we enhance our self -esteem, know that we truly are creatures of dignity and worthy of great hope?
Virginia Satir reminds us that “Feelings of worth can flourish only in an atmosphere where individual differences are appreciated, mistakes are tolerated, communication is open, and rules are flexible -- the kind of atmosphere that is found in a nurturing family.”
There is hope for all. It is to be found in being together. It is found with joining with the entire human race and seeking our dreams. Our hope rest in recognizing that we are truly a part of the interdependent web of all existence.
And that is why we are here. To be reminded that we are human beings, and that all we need to have hope is to be human. When we reach out to others, we have hope in things unseen.
When we trust that around the corner of a dark day there is light, we have hope in things unseen.
When we come to worship together, to sing together, to pray together, we have hope in things unseen.
Our hope lies in the simple act of joining together this morning, and knowing that were are not alone.
There is a story that illustrates hope developing in an affirming community. Many years ago, there was a monastery that had fallen on hard times. Once a great order, the monastery had dwindled in numbers to only five monks: the abbot and four others, all over seventy years of age. Gripping and blaming dominated their dialogue. The monks complained to the abbot about each other, how others did not carry their share of the work. They mumbled amongst themselves about the abbot’s poor leadership.
As the abbot of the monastery agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to him that he ought to pay a visit to the very wise old Rabbi who often retreated to a little hut in the woods and ask him if by chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.
One day he ventured to the hut and explained the purpose of his visit to the old Rabbi. The Rabbi agonized with the Abbot, because he had also witnessed a similar occurrence in his town. The abbot, in frustration, pleaded with the Rabbi to give him some bit of advice that might save his dying order. "I am sorry," exclaimed the Rabbi, "I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you."
Upon returning to the monastery his fellow monks asked if the old Teacher had given him any advice that could save the order. "Unfortunately," the abbot informed them, "he couldn't help. The only thing he did say was that the Messiah is one of us. I don't know what he meant."
In the days, weeks, and months to follow the monks pondered and wondered what was the significance, if any, of the Rabbi's words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that's the case, which one of us is the Messiah?
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. Additionally, each monk treated himself with extraordinary respect on the off chance that in fact he might be the Messiah, without his knowing it. Little by little this extraordinary respect grew and radiated far beyond the walls of their monastery. More frequently people began to visit.
Thus, the world began to change for the monastery. Some of the younger men who visited started to talk more and more with the old monks. After some time one man asked if he could join their order: Then another; and then another. Within a few years the monastery again became a thriving order of spirituality, and love, thanks to the Rabbi's gift.
How may we understand the Rabbi’s gift? It was a profound gift that provided this group of monks with the opportunity to live in a setting characterized by ideal living that is so frequently over-looked in today’s rush hour world. It was a gift that instilled mutual respect, understanding, and commitment. If one of them was the Messiah, then one of them was the carrier of the dream. The Rabbi's gift was the gift of hope!
This year, let us gather together to honor the dignity of each; let us bind together that which has broken away. Let us find our hope in the gathering once again of this community of faith.