The Real Challenge of Gratitude
Theme:
Story
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur and Kathleen Hogue
Activist and author Barbara Ehrenreich reminds us that gratitude isn't only a personal feeling, it's also a call to value the lives of real people, many of whom are unseen and underpaid, who do the work that supports our lives. Is solidarity the real challenge of gratitude?
[Please Note: No audio recording is available for this service.]
What Just Happened?
Theme:
Story
Sunday, November 13, 2016
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur
Rev. Rebecca will offer post-election reflections and we will celebrate all those who have joined our church as members since the spring with a ceremony of affirmation and welcome.
[Note: no audio recording is available for this service.]
Sermon Text:
What Just Happened?
A Sermon After the Presidential Election 2016
UU Community Church of Santa Monica
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur
November 13, 2016
Text altered to reflect what was said at the 11am service
On Tuesday morning, I made a promise to my son. I said, Today we are going to elect the first female President in the history of the United States. And that is not what happened. But I stand by my promise. The day we elect a female president was not Tuesday. But that day will come. That day will come.
On Tuesday, about 120 million of us went to cast our votes to close out a long and difficult presidential campaign and election season, and 59,938,290 of us voted for Hillary Clinton, and 59,704,886 of us voted for Donald Trump, who carried the electoral college and will be the next President of the United States. And about 90 million of us didn’t vote.
On Wednesday night, Kathleen and I opened the doors of our history sanctuary to offer refuge to those feeling adrift in the wake of the election. About fifty of you came into that circle to share a tidal wave of pain, rage, despair, and shock. I feel ashamed of my family, you said, because of their political views. I am weeping for the earth, you said, because I am afraid that we will not be able to do what we must for climate justice. I am so scared for my trans community, you said. This is not about big feelings for me, you said, this is about life or death, this is about my body on the line in a country where white people still refuse to believe me when I speak the truth, this is the real America, the country you believed in isn’t the one I live in.
What if I lose my health insurance? What if my students get deported? Why didn’t my work and my voice make a difference in this election?
What do we do now? You asked. Good question.
And as we sat there together, not fixing anything, holding so imperfectly all the stories and voices of those who came in to this place, I heard other stories, too. I know I am a warrior, you said. I’ve been through worse, you said. I think I could do it, you said, I could stand in the face of personal attack and keep my cool and stay focused on my goals and work for my vision of what our country could be. I could serve in elected office, you said. An amazing thing to say, after this election.
I won’t be silent any longer, you said, with tears streaming down your face.
In my ministry I’ve been very influenced by the work of the peacebuilder John Paul Lederach, who comes out of the Mennonite tradition of Chrsitianity which has a theological commitment to nonviolence. Over the past forty years, Lederach has stood in the some of our world’s places of deepest hurt, places of the most
entrenched conflict and violence, alongside those who long for peace and yet don’t dare to hope for an end to the endless fighting that they’ve known. Places like Somalia, Northern Ireland, Colombia, the Basque Country, and nations throughout East and West Africa, as well as cities and towns in the United States. Despite the complexity of conflict he has worked with, Lederach has written that he believes the work of peacebuilding can be summarized as finding and building voice.
Is that what happened on Wednesday night?
Or, is that what happened on Tuesday?
I hesitate to even say that, because my fear and my anger speaks so loudly to me right now, saying that those who have found and built a voice in this election season are the wrong people, that “they” will take the country in a direction it cannot go, backwards toward white supremacy and white nationalism, backwards towards the diminishment of women’s power and bodies, backwards toward an increasingly unequal economy where the vast resources of this wealthy nation are set aside for the 1%, not for the 100%.
That’s my fear and anger talking there. And yes, I could go on. Because those feelings are real. And I want to affirm, as your minister, that all your feelings are real; that there is no right or wrong way to respond to this week’s world events. And that all feelings are ok; but not expressions of those feelings, and not all behaviors are ok.
As the week wore on I heard more stories. I heard many of you find comfort in the way Elizabeth Kubler-Ross described the stages of grief, as you experienced Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance, not in that linear line, but more in waves of feeling that could come and go without warning. Grief is the normal human response to loss, including the loss of a hope or dream, and I’m glad Kubler-Ross’s description held you this week. It’s healthy to grieve and to move through these feelings, as long as you don’t get stuck.
Lederach goes even further, writing not about grief, but about change. How do things change, he writes in a book on conflict transformation. First, he writes, things move forward. Then, things hit a wall and movement stops. Then, things move backwards. Finally, he says, change continues as things collapse. [I love his technical language here, this is really what he writes.] And then he says, you have to remember, change is not linear and always moving in one direction. It’s a circle that goes around and around and around; it’s a spiral rotini that if we are wise and dedicated and determined leads us up toward peace, with many failures and setbacks along the way. That is how we change.
This week I heard some stories that fed my fear and my anger, that said to me that things I hate about my country will never change, and things I love about my country might be taken from me. I heard stories that told me about us versus them, white people versus peole of color, women vesus men, white women versus black women, red versus blue, winners versus losers, with the winner taking all. These were simple stories and easy to digest, and remember, and repeat. It’s black or white. Either or. Yes or no. Good or bad. Fear or Hope.
And then I thought about it. And I felt about it. And I moved about it, this election, and I listened about it, and one of you said, it’s so much more complicated than that. It’s so much more complicated than that.
I think you are right. And I don’t believe this is the kind of problem that can be fixed by working harder, by finding more perfect candidates and getting more people to participate in the democratic process. This isn’t the kind of change that we can make by doing what we’ve always done.
We’re in a new story now. Because this is the kind of change that comes from learning something new and different. It’s the kind of change that comes from balancing limitation with possibility, by judging the distance between the world we dream about and the world we have, and re-learning how to hold and live in between those worlds.
I believe learning to living in the place between possibility and limitation is a deeply spiritual act, a deeply religious and human act.
A few years ago, my colleague Rebecca Parker, a past president of our Unitarian Universalist seminary in Berkeley, California, published a work of liberal theology co-written with John Buehrens, a former president of the Unitarian Universalist Association.
She frames this ultimate question, the question of how to balance possibility and limitation, as one of eschatology, from the Greek eschatos, final, and logos, words, the words of end-times, the words that lend finality and purpose to our lifework.
Most of us are probably familiar with apocalyptic eschatologies, words for end times that call for a final judgment and a great battle, when the saved and the damned will be separated; if we haven’t read the theological texts that speak of such a time, then we’ve probably seen the Hollywood version of such a final disaster, as the lava flows down Wilshire Avenue, the asteroid hits, or the Statue of Liberty falls into the sea.
In contrast to the final judgment, Rebecca Parker proposes a “radically realized eschatology” that vies the ultimate ends of human life with hope and optimism about the shared future of all living beings.
She writes,
This earth—and none other—is a garden of beauty, a place of life. Neglecting it for some other imagined better place will be a self-fulfilling prophecy—it will make earth a wasteland. There is no land promised to any of us other than the land already given, the world already here.
Rather than diminishing our yearning for justice, equality, dignity, reconciliation, and repair, Parker suggests that reorienting ourselves to this world as it truly is can inspire in us what she calls a responsive hope, a hope that is born out of our love of this limited and imperfect world, rather than our idealization of some other perfect place.
I believe this is a moment to claim that responsive hope, a hope born out of seeing ever more clearly the country we have, rather than our idealization of some other country in some other place.
What I saw in the dawn’s early light last Wednesday can lead me to isolation, despair, withholding, or indifference about our country and the work that is mine to do in this time. What you saw in the dawn’s early light last Wednesday could lead you to isolation, despair, withholding, or indifference to our country and the work that is ours to do in this time.
Or it can lead us to double down on a responsive hope that both accepts the world as it is and engages in compassionate care for suffering, injury, and injustice (Rebecca Parker’s words) to move us toward inclusion, standing up for ourselves and our neighbors, opening our doors and our hearts to those who are most vulnerable, afraid, and angry in our communities, and saying, we want to understand.
First, things move forward. Then, things hit a wall and movement stops. Then, things move backwards. Then, things collapse.
And then, things move forward. We move things forward, again.
This morning, as I stand here in the tragic gap between what I see in my country and what I want for all people, I know that a lot of pain went into this election. A lot of injury and hurting hearts are even more visible to me now. There is a lot of suffering and injustice in this country, with deep roots in this economy, in the way we see the enemy and the other, in the way we treat this earth, in the way business as usual is done here in America.
I hope and I pray that we don’t let our suffering and our country’s suffering go to waste. I hope we listen to it and seek to understand it and follow it as a way to find and build voice, to find and build peace, to choose responsive hope, and to stand with one another, because this is what we are here for.
Please rise in body or in spirit and join in singing our closing hymn, There is More Love Somewhere. I’m going to ask you to do something risky now, though, which is instead of singing from your hymnals, I’m asking you to take a chance and listen to the words as I call them out, so that your hands will be free and your eyes can look around to all those here with you today. I know that can feel risky, but it also means
that we can hold hands, which I’m going to ask you to do when we get to the second verse.
And it means I can add a few more verses. We’re going to sing about finding more
love, hope, grief, rage, peace, and joy. I’ll call these out as we go.
Love
Hope
Grief
Rage
Peace
Joy
The Larger Circle
Theme:
Story
Sunday, November 6, 2016 - 11:00am
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur
YRUU Group, chalice lighters
Len Harris, special guest
As our 2017 Pledge Campaign takes off, we'll explore generosity as a spiritual practice deeply grounded in our UU values. Our YRUU Youth Group will light the chalice and our service will include a special presentation with church member Len Harris on "Generosity for The Children of the World," in which Len will share some of the lessons he's learned about love and generosity in his 93 years on this earth.
[NOTE: No audio recording is available for this service.]
Sermon Text:
The Larger Circle
A Sermon for After Election Day 2016
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur
UU Community Church of Santa Monica, CA
November 6, 2016
A difficult thing happened in the life of our congregation on Friday, which is when many of you first read a letter I wrote about my future with this congregation.
Here is what I said in that letter:
Dear Congregation,
It is with a full heart that I announce I will be resigning from my position as your minister at the end of the church year. My last Sunday in the pulpit will be June 4, 2017.
Since I accepted your call to ministry in 2010, I have been inspired by this congregation’s commitment to living out its values and putting its faith into action.
My life is richer because of you, and it has been an honor to walk with you in times of sorrow and celebration, in service to our congregation, our faith, and the greater community in Santa Monica and Los Angeles.
At the same time, this ministry has not been without challenges. Over the past year it has become clear to me that our congregation and leaders have multiple visions for the kind of church we would like to be, and the kind of future we want to build together. The Right Relations process we have begun together in good faith is a powerful foundation for the work that is still to come, which will help the congregation deepen in understanding of one another’s perspectives, identify core values, articulate its vision and mission, improve clarity in roles and governance structures, and continue a transformative shift in culture that will make possible a more vibrant future.
After deep personal reflection, consultation with trusted colleagues, and with the loving support of my family, I have decided that for this vital work at UUCCSM to go forward it is best that my ministry with you come to an end.
The Board of Directors has accepted notice of my decision on behalf of the congregation and supports my decision, and we have planned for a compassionate leave-taking that will allow me to serve as your minister through the close of the church year. With support from our Association, the Board will be preparing to hire a temporary minister with the skills to guide and support the congregation after my departure. There will be time for this process to unfold in the spring.
Over these next months, we will have a chance to celebrate the accomplishments of my time with you, while not denying the challenges we have faced together. During the spring, I will be participating in the UU ministry search process. Regardless of the outcome of my search, I will not be continuing at UUCCSM.
All are invited to a Ministerial Transitions Workshop with the Rev. Dr. Jonipher Kwong of our UUA Congregational Life Staff, at 12:30pm on Sunday, November 6, to learn more about the congregation’s next steps, and to be with one another in this time of transition.
The church office emailed this letter at 2:21; at 2:24, your first emails back to me began arriving, full of words like “brave” and “thank you” and “I support you,” and words like “heartbroken” and “sad” and “disappointed.” Some of you said, I’m really surprised. Some of you said, Well, I’m not surprised. One of you brought me a box of chocolates and said, Difficult news is better with chocolate. You are right about this. One of you said, some people are going to do cartwheels when they hear this news. You were sitting next to someone who was weeping at the time.
There are famous photographs that capture the moment when we heard the news. Our side won. Their side lost. Shock on one set of faces; elation on the others. And I want to be clear with you this morning: this is not one of those moments.
There is a story I know about our Universalist heritage, the side of our family tree that says that love is too big to keep anyone beyond its’ reach forever. I’m doing some theological translation with my language here, but this is what I believe. I believe- ulitmately- that there is no them. There is only us. I’m not saying we’ll get there today. I know anything that happens in our church right now brings up lots of different reactions, responses, and feelings, that we’re all over the map and I’m not asking you to pretend otherwise. But I am asking you to look at one another, not just your friends, but your companions on these seasoned pews, and to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. This is part of our congregation’s story now. Someday it will be even part of your history.
Our theme for the month of November is Story, my spiritual companions, and our question is, what does it mean to be a community of story? In this wild and crazy year, in this presidential election year, in this extraorindary time in the life of our congrgation, which stories do we repeat, and which stories do we ignore? Which stories to we remember, and how do we decide when it is time to leave behind the stories that no longer serve us?
Surely every congregation is a congregation of stories – the story of your first Sunday here, the story of the person who changed your life by inviting you in, the story of the way your child was raised and loved here like no other place you know. The story of the day they broke your heart, the deep disappointments we carry, we imperfect people in our imperfect church with its perfect principles. The story of how you chose to respond to that suffering.
My friend and colleague Lucas Hergert, is minister to our congregation in Livermore, California, outside San Francisco, and he believes that we come into community with one another for the purpose of telling our ultimate story, the story we rely upon to name and narrate our ultimate concerns. He says,
We are creatures that have a unique need. We need to sing our world into being. ... We humans are a narrative bunch, singing our words, our stories into the world. Humanity finds itself only by telling its story.
And he says, theology
Theology fits right in with this very human need. Theology is our ultimate story. It is how we name and narrate our ultimate concerns.
What is your justification for leading a compassionate life? To what are you accountable? How do you answer for the existence of evil? Are we surrounded by something greater that lures us toward what is good? These questions are irresistible; they name our place in the order of being. They set us within a living, moving narrative that gives us meaning and belonging. Theology—theology is the language we use to tell our deepest story.
To some the word theology may need some translation. Theos, God, ology, the study of; which is why I love how Lucas expands this term to encompass a much wider story: the story of your ultimate concern, whether that includes “God” or does not. The story that can only be told in what the religious scholar Cathereine Madsen called “the language of brokenheartedness and ardor and fear.” [ Catherine Madsen, The Bones Reassemble: Reconstituting Liturigical Speech. 2.] That’s the kind of deep story we’re talking about.
What is needed, vital, life-giving is to find the power and the voice to wrestle with irresitible questions, to call on the langauge of brokenheartedness and ardor and fear, and to do so in covneanted, committed, bounded and bonded community.
To dare to speak our stories and sing our lives into being is a powerful and a great gift for these anxious and uncertain times. A time when we are also struggling to find a common voice and a common vision for who we are as Americans, who we have been, and who we are becoming. The pundits call them narratives, which is another word for story.
The news, should you make the mistake of turning on or tuning in or opening up or clicking through or scrolling down through the news, the news is not good for your spirit, I have to tell you this, as your minister. The news will tell you a version of this story: that our country is engaged in a great war, a great battle, a high stakes game, and that our politics boils down to how many points each “side” is “winning,” and that everything that has ever happened in the history of time is now caught up in the outcome of this piviotal moment in our history.
It all hangs on this. It all comes down to Florida, or Ohio, or New Hampshire, or one county in Nebraska. Have you been hearing that? Reading that? Repeating that?
Now I know this is an extraordinary time. And I am expecting you all to vote and to participate in the democracy process, which is not only a right those who came before us fought and died for, but also a responsibility entrusted to us by our children, who cannot vote and ask that we do so for them, and remember them in the voting booth. And in our community, this is also a principle we covenant to affirm and promote, to support the use of the democratic process, which is our fifth principle and dear and vital for that reason.
But I also know that the struggle we are engaged in is for the long haul. We must remember that we are long haul people. One victorious election would not conclude it; one devastating election would not end it. So we are both Nov 8 people, deeply invested in doing our part to bend the arc toward justice right now, today, in powerful and life-giving ways; and we must also be Nov 9 people. We must also be Nov 9 peole who remember that whenever someone tells you the only options are winning or losing, we’ve all already lost.
Let me be clear. I hope my candidate wins on Tuesday. And I know that when I wake up Wednesday morning, my political and spiritual and theological priorities will still be what they are today and were yesterday and the day before that: I want to dismantle oppression, brick by brick, wall by wall. End police brutality that targets black and brown people. Add to the sum of love and justice in the world. I want to raise my and your children to be open, accepting, funny, and kind. Sing my imperfect life into being and walk together with imperfect communities made up of imperfect people. Because those are the only people and communities there are.
I want to deepen my understanding of the perspectives and life stories of other people, especially those will very different life experiences than my own, because as the Buddhist teacher Margaret Wheately told us, you don't fear people whose story you know. I have been afraid. Out in the woods alone and scared, just like Bear in our story today. Have you been there? But You don’t fear people whose story you know.
Whose story don’t you know - yet?
One of my good friends told me this, he said his father was voting for a presidential candidate he cannot support. And so he said to himself, I know my dad is not 100% wrong. And I’m willing to believe that I’m not 100% right. And he is my dad. And I am his son.
And one of you said, I know who he’s voting for, and he’s still my brother.
There’s the moment when we hear the news. And we look to see what is in the faces of the others around us. And if we are brave, we let what we are feeling show in our faces, and we will feel that. Really feel that. And then, the poet tells us,
We clasp the hands of those that go before us,
And the hands of those who come after us. and
We enter the little circle of each other’s arms.
Because it is in times like these that we know how much we belong to each other.
Please rise in body or in spirit and join in singing our closing hymn, #1064, Blue Boat Home. #1064.
When you leave this place,
When you leave this place, vote your values.
Not just on Nov 8 but on Nov 9 also, and Nov 10 and 11 and every day I’m asking you to
Vote your values
Canvass for courage
Phonebank for freedom
Go door to door for dignity
Check compassion
Elect equality
Mark mercy
Pick peace
Select solidarity
Bet on beauty and
Line up for love.
Remember that we are long haul people.
This story isn’t over.
FIA - Forum on State Ballot Initiatives
Speakers from the Santa Monica League of Women Voters will attempt to explain the 17 state ballot initiatives as well as the Santa Monica initiatives. Please plan to attend and bring your over-200-page General Election Voter Guide with you to follow along!
Presented by the FIA Peace and Social Justice Committee.
Date / Time:
Saturday, October 29, 2016 - 7:00pm - 9:00pm
Contact Name:
Cathie Gentile
FIA - Community Police Discussion
Date / Time:
Thursday, October 6, 2016 - 4:30pm - 6:30pm
Room:
Contact Name:
Audrey Lyness
October, 2016
Works by NanoArtist Cris Orfescu
Small things are a big deal this October when UU Santa Monica presents “The NanoArt Exhibition,” by NanoArtist Cris Orfescu. We look forward to seeing you at the opening reception Sunday, October 9, from 12 noon to 1:30pm. The exhibit will run through the end of October.
Scientist by day and artist by night, Cris Orfescu is on a mission to bring the small world of nanotechnology into the public eye. With the width of a single hair measuring 80,000 nanometers, the world of nano objects is not well known to most people, at least at first glance. But as Orfescu put it, “With more than 70 percent of the people in the U.S. using products incorporating nanotechnology, I want people to know about it and I hope my art stirs their curiosity to find out more.”
Cris Orfescu, born in Bucharest, Romania, is a degreed scientist and self-taught artist. For more than 30 years he has experimented with an emerging art form, NanoArt, which reflects the transition from science to art through technology. Orfescu has shown his works all over the world, including in Italy, France, Finland, Korea, Ireland, Spain, Germany, Colombia, Greece, Romania, and Israel, in solo and group exhibitions. His art is also commissioned by public institutions and private collectors.
Of the process of his art, Orfescu explains, “My art is a reflection of the technological movement. I bring the “invisible” world in front of my audience by visualizing, with a scanning electron microscope, the…nanosculptures I create by chemical and physical processing. The depth and three dimensions achieved in NanoArt sets this process of electron imaging apart from photography, where images are created by photons, (particles of light) rather than by electrons, (electrically charged particles). The electrons penetrate deeper inside the structure, creating images with more depth and a more natural 3D-look than photographic images.”
For more info or weekday appointments please contact Nancy Thompson at assistant@uusm.org or 310-829-5436 ext 102.
For further info about this show or about exhibiting on the Art Wall at the Unitarian Universalist Community Church of Santa Monica, please contact our art director, Beverly Alison.
Heart and Soul: A Contemplative Worship Service
Sunday, October 9, 2016 - 5:00pm
Kikanza Nuri-Robins, Joyce Holmen, and Karen Hsu Patterson
In consultation with our minister, we are continuing the Heart and Soul services, now led by Kikanza Nuri-Robins, Joyce Holmen, and Karen Hsu Patterson. With singing and instrumental music, statements and questions, silence and sharing, we’ll explore these themes:
October 9 — A Community of Healing
November 13 — A Community of Story
December 11 — A Community of Presence (a virtual service: we’ll send resources by email)
Dedication Service in Garden of Eternity
Theme:
Healing
Sunday, October 30, 2016 - 12:00pm
Rev. Rebecca Benefiel Bijur
All are invited to share in a special dedication service in the Garden of Eternity immediately following the 11 am service, at which we will dedicate all memorial bricks that have been installed since November 2015. Rev. Rebecca will lead a brief service of memory and gratitude.
Art Wall Opening Reception: Chris Orfescu
Small things are a big deal this October when UU Santa Monica presents The NanoArt Exhibition, by Nano Aritist Chris Orfescu. We look forward to seeing you at the Opening Reception on Sunday, October 9 from 12:00 noon – 1:30pm. The exhibit will run through the end of the month.
Scientist by day and artist by night, Chris Orfescu is on a mission to bring the small world of nano technology into the larger public eye. With the width of a single hair measuring 80,000 nanometers wide, the world of nano objects is not likely to be well known to most people, at least at first glance, but as Orfescu mentions, “…with more than 70 percent of the people in the U.S. using products incorporating nanotechnology, I want people to know about it and I hope my art stirs their curiosity to find out more.”
Cris Orfescu, born in Bucharest, Romania, is a degreed scientist and self-taught artist. For more than 30 years he has experimented with an emerging art form, NanoArt, which reflects the transition from Science to Art through Technology. Orfescu has shown his works all over the world including Italy, France, Finland, Korea, Ireland, Spain, Germany, Colombia, Greece, Romania, Israel, in numerous solo and group exhibitions. His art is also commissioned for public and private collectors.
Of the process of his art, Orfrescu explains, “My art is a reflection of the technological movement. I bring the "invisible" world in front of my audience by visualizing with a scanning electron microscope the…nanosculptures I create by chemical and physical processing. The depth and three dimensions achieved in NanoArt sets this process of electron imaging apart from Photography where images are created by photons, (particles of light) rather than by electrons, (electrically charged particles). The electrons penetrate deeper inside the structure creating images with more depth and a more natural 3D-look than the photographic images.”
Contact Nancy for more info or weekday appointments at assistant@uusm.org or 310-829-5436 ext 102.
Contact Our Art Director, Beverly Alison for further info about this show or about exhibiting on our Art Wall.
Date / Time:
Sunday, October 9, 2016 - 12:00pm - 1:30pm
Contact Name:
Beverly Alison