Interweave/Women's Alliance Picnic

Food, Fun, Fellowship — and Bubbles!

At the Annual All-Church
Interweave* & Women’s Alliance Picnic
 
Sunday, July 15, 11 a.m.
(just after the 10 a.m. service)
Church Courtyard
 
We’ll be serving grilled hot dogs (veggie or meat),
salads, desserts, and lemonade.
 
Donations will be welcome for
Common Ground, the Westside HIV Community Center,
but the picnic is free!
 
Questions? Contact Kris Langabeer 
 
*Interweave is our church’s group for lesbians, bisexuals, gays,
and transgenders (LBGTs), and our friends and allies.
Date / Time: 
Sunday, July 15, 2012 - 11:00am - 12:00pm
Room: 
Contact Name: 
Kris Langabeer

Thomas Jefferson and his Miracle-free Bible - POSTPONED

Elizabeth Campbell, who has written the introduction to a new edition of the Jefferson Bible, will be offering her perspective on Thomas Jefferson and his unique miracle-free version of the Bible, some history on the First Amendment, Jefferson’s personal views on religion, and his relationship with the Unitarian church of his day. For those who aren't familiar, Jefferson took several copies of the Bible and literally cut-and-pasted them together (before the advent of personal computers running Word or Windows '76), excising any references to the supernatural or miraculous events, leaving only what he considered to be “the most benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man.” If you missed “Bordeaux & the Jefferson Bible” during Dining for Dollars last spring, now’s your chance for this reprise (minus the dinner and wine). Ms. Campbell will be speaking following regular Sunday services on September 30 at 1:00 p.m. in the Sanctuary. The event is open to the entire UUCCSM community and is sponsored by AAHS — Agnostics, Atheists, Humanists & Secularists. For more info: contact Len Harris or Ian Dodd or stop by the AAHS table in Forbes Hall following each service on Sunday mornings.

Date / Time: 
Sunday, September 30, 2012 - 1:00pm - 3:00pm
Room: 
Contact Name: 
Len Harris
Ian Dodd

Science Non-Fiction Book Group

The Science Non-Fiction Book Group will meet on Tuesday, July 17, to discuss “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking” by Susan Cain. Drawing on cutting edge research in psychology and neuroscience, Cain shows the contributions of introverts (about a third of us) to society. It is an Amazon “best book.” We will meet in Forbes Hall at 7:30 p.m. All are welcome. Contact: Rebecca Crawford, .

Date / Time: 
Tuesday, July 17, 2012 - 7:30pm - 8:30pm
Contact Name: 
Rebecca Crawford

Science Non-Fiction Book Group

The Science Non-Fiction Book Group will meet on Tuesday, June 19, to discuss “Hot, Flat and Crowded,” by Thomas Friedman. The book is a successor to the author’s “The World is Flat.” After describing the problem, he proposes a solution. We will meet in Forbes Hall at 7:30 p.m. All are welcome. Contact: Rebecca Crawford.

Date / Time: 
Tuesday, June 19, 2012 - 7:30pm

UUCCSM Men's Group

June 21 topic: From the NYT: “I rented my bedroom out through a Web-based vacation-rental service. It became apparent that the guest and I had some sexual chemistry. The first night I slept on my futon in another room. The next day we ‘slept’ together — this was entirely consensual and not solely instigated by me — in my bedroom. Do I refund her the rental fee and, if so, for one or both nights?” We especially welcome new members.

Date / Time: 
Thursday, June 21, 2012 - 7:30pm

UU History Mural

The photograph above shows most, but not all, of the 32-foot mural located in Room 4 upstairs in Forbes Hall. Dedicated on June 22, 1980, it depicts more than 400 years of Unitarian and Universalist history, and 1960s and 1970s social history, from 1568 in Transylvania to the Santa Monica church in 1980, with Ernie Pipes as the settled minister.

It was painted by (then local) artist and muralist Ann Thiermann, who today lives in Aptos, CA.

It cost $20,000, one-half paid for by fundraising at UUSM and one-half by a California Arts grant (a state government entity).

 

People in our Mural

The following was written by Coming of Age advisor Melissa Weaver to inform the middle school class about some of the people in our mural.  Please dig further into these historic figures, because in some cases, only the tip of the iceberg of interesting information was uncovered.

Francis David (Ferenc David) (1501-1579)
Francis David originally trained as a Catholic priest before becoming a Lutheran, and then a Calvinist. But he could not find a basis in the Bible for the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Ghost), so he became the founder of the Unitarian Church in Transylvania in the mid-16th century.

David was appointed court preacher to King John Siglsmund, who called a Diet (debate) in the city of Turda in 1568 to determine which religion would be the official religion of Transylvania. During the lengthy debate, Francis David convinced King Sigismund that it would be wrong to declare one religion as the state religion and force everyone to follow it. As a result, King Sigismund declared religious freedom In his realm, the first such declaration in history. Unfortunately, King Sigismund died 3 years later, and his successor was not as tolerant, so Francis David was sent to prison as a heretic, where he died.

George de Benneville (1703-1793)
Born in London to Huguenot French parents, he went to sea as a teenager, where he saw other religions in his travels that made him begin to question his own religious beliefs. Later, a near-death experience convinced him of God's universal love, and that all people would experience salvation, and he became an evangelical Universalist preacher, as well as a doctor.

He preached in France and Germany while completing his medical studies, but de Benneville experienced religious persecution in Europe, so he came to North America in the mid-18th century seeking religious tolerance. He settled in Pennsylvania, where he studied herbal medicine with Native Americans.

De Benneville's beliefs stressed that all people everywhere are loved by God, and cultures, races, and sexes have no bearing on the worth of a human being. He believed that taking religious truths literally, rather than symbolically, was the source of much religious conflict.

De Benneville believed that God, whom he called the "Sovereign Good," took different forms at different times, but these forms were each a part of the universal truth. He wrote: "As no church is pure in all things, so none can be found that does not contain some truth. Glorious truths are found in every church and religion under the sun. And this glorious chain of truths ... we believe will someday unite all of them into one form of love."

Joseph Priestly (1733-1804)
A British scientist, political philosopher, scholar and theologian, Priestly was responsible for numerous significant scientific discoveries and publications, including discovering oxygen in its gaseous form and inventing soda water. Science was integral to his religious beliefs, and he believed in tolerance and equal rights for religious Dissenters (people whose beliefs did not conform to the Church of England), which led him to become one of the founders of the Unitarian church in England. The controversial nature of Priestley's publications combined with his outspoken support of the French Revolution aroused public and governmental suspicion. He was eventually forced to flee to the United States after a mob burned down his home and church in 1791, where he helped found the First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia.

A scholar and teacher throughout his life, Priestley also made significant contributions to writing in the areas of education, history and philosophy, as well as science, political theory and theology.

Hosea Ballou (1771-1852)
A self-taught itinerant (traveling) minister who was originally a Calvinist Baptist like his father, Ballou became one of the most influential Universalist preachers in the United States. He has been called "the Father of American Universalism," along with John Murray, who founded the first Universalist church in America. Ballou was initially an itinerant (traveling) preacher in Massachusetts and Vermont, who also taught school to support himself, and after Murray's death, Ballou founded the Second Universalist Church in Boston, where he remained for 35 years.

Ballou wrote a number of influential books and thousands of sermons, and he published the weekly Universalist Magazine. His book,"A Treatise on Atonement," radically altered the thinking of many of his minister colleagues and consequently their congregations. It sets out Ballou's beliefs that as finite creatures, humans are incapable of offending an infinite God, who has eternal love for his human children. Ballou believed that once people became convinced of the universal salvation of all souls, then they would take pleasure in living a moral life and doing good works, and life on earth would be transformed.

Ballou was an early champion of the separation of church and state (debating William Ellery Channing on the issue, among others), and at the end of his career, in the mid-1800s, he wrote against capital punishment and slavery.

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826)
The third President of the United States as well as the principal author of the Declaration of Independence, Jefferson also held a number of other political offices, including Secretary of State under George Washington and Vice President under John Adams. And he is well known for his astonishingly far-ranging accomplishments, which included farmer, architect, inventor, author, and lawyer. After his retirement from politics, he helped to found the University of Virginia (as well as designing its early buildings) and his personal library was donated after his death to form the initial core collection of the Library of Congress.

Although Jefferson was not formally a member of a Unitarian church, he is often "claimed" by Unitarians because of the "Jefferson Bible" and other writings and correspondence that reflect religious beliefs that are consistent with Unitarian beliefs and teachings. Jefferson is also known to have been Influenced by Joseph Priestly's writings, and he attended Unitarian church services while visiting with Priestly after Priestly emigrated to Pennsylvania.

The Jefferson Bible (actually titled "Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth") was published by the Library of Congress after his death. It is an edited version of the four Gospels of the New Testament - Jefferson literally cut out sections of the Bible with a razor and pasted them into a blank book. He removed all references to virgin birth, miracles, claims to Jesus' divinity and the resurrection, leaving only the story and the moral teachings of Jesus.

Jefferson's political opponents included some evangelicals who tried to make his religion a factor in elections, attacking his "deistical" beliefs in the press. Jefferson refused to respond to these attacks or to make any public statement concerning his personal religious beliefs. Ironically, in spite of these attacks, evangelical voters actually flocked to support Jefferson because he strongly favored the end of tax support for established churches - which meant freedom for the independent evangelical churches, which were not supported by taxes. Today, many religious conservatives portray Jefferson as a sympathetic figure, unaware of his religious beliefs, his understanding of religious freedom or his criticisms of evangelical religiosity.

William Ellery Channing (1780-1842)
A famous Unitarian minister who was the minister of the Federal Street Church in Boston for almost 40 years, Channing was an early advocate of social reform in human rights, free speech, education, peace, relief for the poor and abolition of slavery. Channing pioneered a path between spirituality and secularity, and his Christian humanism writings and sermons influenced and inspired the Transcendentalists.

Although Channing's wife was one of the wealthiest women in the country, he did not claim her money, as he was then legally entitled to do, and he often took stands on social and political issues that were at odds with his wealth and social standing. He was a vocal opponent of war, and he opposed slavery as early as 1825. Channing was interested in the spiritual education of children, and an innovation of his ministry was to invite children to gather around him after worship, which eventually led to study groups that became part of the Sunday school movement. He also worked with educational reformers such as Dorothea Dix, Bronson Alcott, Elizabeth Peabody and Horace Mann.

Channing was the spokesman during the "Unitarian controversy" for the liberal - or Unitarian - churches within Massachusetts, and he helped defined "Unitarian Christianity" as a liberal religion that embraced all individuals who wished to live a Christian life, regardless of whether they agreed with particular doctrines or creeds. (As distinguished from the orthodox, or Calvinist, churches that wanted to limit membership to those who believed certain doctrines.)

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
A Unitarian minister who became the most famous essayist of the 19th century, as well as a preeminent lecturer and philosopher, and a key figure in the Transcendental movement. Emerson and the other Transcendentalists did much to open Unitarians and other liberal religious people to the influences of science, the spirituality of nature, and Eastern mysticism.

Emerson's father was the minister at the First Church in Boston, who became a Unitarian and had drawn the congregation with him, but he died when Ralph was 8. Although he grew up very poor, due to his family's social position, he was educated at Harvard. Emerson taught briefly following college, then attended Harvard Divinity School. He served as a minister for 6 years, then resigned and became a lecturer and writer. He joined a group of ministers, authors and other intellectuals that began meeting in 1836 who eventually became the core of the movement known as Transcendentalism (although Emerson preferred the term "Idealism").

Emerson gave a number of significant anti-slavery speeches in the 1840s and 1850s, and he also supported women's educational and economic rights, as well as greater freedom in religion and in university education.

Theodore Parker (1810-1860)
A Unitarian minister in Boston who was a Transcendentalist, Parker was the first (in 1850) to use the phrase "of all the people, by all the people and for all the people," which were echoed in the Gettysburg Address. And his words predicting the success of the anti-slavery movement were made famous by Martin Luther King: "I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one... And from what I see I am sure it bends toward justice."

Although one of the most influential Unitarian ministers in America in the 19th century, Parker was extremely controversial for his writings and sermons that denied Biblical miracles and put forth "natural religion" (which could be determined by reason) over "revelatory religion" (the Bible and its interpretations and church doctrines).

Some Trinitarians in the congregation for one of these sermons questioned whether Unitarians were Christian, if Parker's views were representative, which caused Parker to be ostracized by other Unitarian churches and ministers. His supporters founded 28th Congregational Society in Boston, where Parker's ministry was so popular that the congregation grew to 7000, including Louisa May Alcott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Julia Ward Howe. Parker was also active in all the social justice movements of his day, including abolition, peace, temperance, women's rights and prison reform.

Although the Unitarian leadership opposed Parker until the end, he was also admired by younger ministers for his attacks on traditional ideas, his fight for a free faith and pulpit, and his public stands on social issues. Today Parker is regarded as "the model of a prophetic minister in the American Unitarian tradition."

Olympia Brown (1835-1926)
The first woman to graduate from theological school and become an ordained minister, Brown was also a women's rights activist due to the discrimination she experienced.

Brown was born in Michigan, and she grew up in a family that valued education. She was excited to go to college at Mount Holyoke, but grew disappointed by the actual experience, which was clearly not going to be sufficiently challenging, as exemplified by a chemistry professor who told his female students that they were not expected to remember all the material -just enough to make them intelligent in conversation. She transferred to Antioch College, but also encountered discrimination and low expectations for women there, such as an English class where men were required to memorize the speeches they gave, while women were not (Brown defiantly gave each of her speeches from memory).

Brown took the countless rejections from graduate divinity schools, and the other forms of discrimination that continued once she was admitted, as a challenge. After graduation, she appealed to the Universalist Board to ordain her, and framed it as a plea for equality. The board had heard some of her sermons and agreed, so she was ordained.

Although she continued to experience discrimination in her professional life, such as a congregation that agitated for her removal while she was on maternity leave, Brown served as pastor to congregations in Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut and Michigan. She became active in the women's suffrage movement and all areas of women's rights, working closely for decades with leaders such as Susan B. Anthony, Lucy Stone, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. One of the few first-generation suffragists who was still alive when the 19th Amendment passed, Brown voted in her first presidential election at the age of 85.

Susan B. Anthony (1820-1906)
Anthony was a prominent U.S. civil rights leader who played a pivotal role in women's suffrage and women's rights.

She was born in Massachusetts and raised by a father who was a Quaker abolitionist. They moved to New York following a financial collapse, where Susan taught and became active in the anti-slavery and temperance movements, and started attending a Unitarian church.

She met Elizabeth Cady Stanton and they organized the first women's state temperance society in America after being refused admission to a temperance convention because of their gender.

Her focus soon broadened to women's rights and suffrage, and Anthony became known as a powerful advocate, travelling the United States and Europe giving 75 to 100 speeches a year on women's rights for 45 years.

Anthony tried to unite the African-American and women's rights movements, but when the 15th Amendment gave rights to African American men, but not to women, Anthony questioned why women should support it, when black men were not showing support for women's voting rights. After that, she devoted herself exclusively to women's rights.

In 1872, Anthony was arrested for voting, and she was later convicted despite her argument that the 14th Amendment, in guaranteeing the privileges of citizenship to "all persons born or naturalized in the United States," without qualification as to gender, gave women the right to vote in federal elections. (She wrote that she voted the "Republican ticket- straight.")

Thomas Starr King (1824-1864)
King was raised in New England, the son of a Universalist minister who died when he was 15, which prevented him from going to college. Inspired by men like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry Ward Beecher, King embarked on a program of self-study for the ministry and was given his first job at 21 at the same Universalist church in Charlestown, Massachusetts, where his father had previously served.

A few years later, King was offered a position at a Unitarian church in Boston, where he became one of the most famous preachers in New England. Although some people thought this was deserting his old faith, King thought that his broad ecumenical religion could include Unitarians without repudiating Universalism. When questioned about it, King famously said: "The one [Universalist] thinks God Is too good to damn them forever, the other [Unitarian] thinks they are too good to be damned forever." According to King, the only reason that Unitarians and Universalists had not already joined together was that they were "too near of kin to be married."

In 1860, King took a position at the First Unitarian Church in San Francisco, where he was active in California politics. His ardent support of the Union was credited by Lincoln as keeping California from becoming a separate republic.

Mountain peaks in the White Mountains in New Hampshire (where King vacationed and about which he wrote) and Yosemite are named after King, as is the Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley, California. There is a statue of King in the Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, and his statue used to be in the National Statuary Hall Collection in the U.S. Capitol. However, in 2006, the California Legislature voted to replace it with a statue of Ronald Reagan, in a last minute vote with only one dissent.

State Senator Dennis Hollingsworth, who authored the bill removing the statue, said that he didn't know who Thomas Starr King was, and he thought there are probably a lot of Californians like him. Hollingsworth also said that King is not a native Californian. (Junipero Serra, who is honored with California's other statute in the Capitol, was born in Majorca, and Reagan is a native of Illinois.)

May, 2012

UUCCSM RE Students

This month's Art Wall will showcase works from our own UUCCSM Lifespan Religious Education students.


April, 2012

Evelyn Meyer

Evelyn Meyer

Evelyn Meyer is a “trained naif” who remembers colors of tropical fruits sold by a New York street vendor, the toothpaste-gel blue of an Alaskan iceberg, the orangepurple sunsets over the mountains of Mexico. When the color palette in her mind’s eye doesn’t offer her the right blend, she invents a new color to fit into paintings full of pattern and detail, often peopled by angels or mythical figures.

Ms. Meyer describes herself as a N.Y. artist with a BFA, MA, and MSW who travels in Europe “for my roots,” through the U.S. “for my history,” and in Mexico “for my soul.” She likes to think of herself as someone who sees the world with the eyes of a traveler — where each new place has many stories to tell — about its present and past spirit — as if in a dream. When seeing her paintings, one sees her influences: folk art, textile design, architecture, and anthropology.
 
Ms. Meyer now lives and works in Los Angeles, painting and making collages in California colors. She is also extending a limited visit to her penthouse in Westwood, where she has an amazing floor-to-ceiling collection of “outsider” art that has been featured at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City and in many publications. There is room for 25 people to visit, see and hear a talk by Evelyn about the art. On Saturday, April 21, from 12 to 2 p.m., Beverly Alison has arranged for this eye candy to be seen. Reservations are required and the address is available when you call Beverly. This is a splendid way to see rooms full of the best outsider art in our country.

Addressing That-Which-Is-Larger-Than-Us

Sunday, May 6, 2012
Rev. Erika Hewitt

Rev. Erika believes that there must be Something Larger Than Us, or we risk putting ourselves at the center of the universe. Your “something larger” can be the collective unconscious, The Holy, or even creativity. It can be whatever you want to name it — but something shifts when we’re willing to let “it” be out there, beyond our human selves. In this sermon, Erika explores how the act of praying, of opening, isn’t just about living from a place of deep spirituality — it also has everything to do with the freedom of imagination.

Sermon Text: 

““Addressing That-Which-Is-Larger-Than-Us” ~ © Rev. Erika Hewitt
UU Community Church of Santa Monica
6 May 2012

Holy One, take me where you want me to go
Let me meet whom you want me to meet
Tell me what you me what me to say
and keep me out of your way
~ Father Mychal's prayer

I have an acute inner timekeeper for cycles both small and large. What this means is that when a meeting runs long, my inner kid begins to squirm uncomfortably – but it also means that on most days I have a heightened awareness of where I was, and what I was doing, a year ago.

Exactly a year ago, I was returning to my church from a sabbatical in Portland, Oregon – the city that’s most home to me. Back in California, I missed Portland’s skyscape; its people; its rain – and I missed a certain group of people: Clara, Hank, Audrey; Mary and Rob. I still miss them... and before I go any further, I should mention that these are not real people.

Just to repeat: Clara, Rob, and Hank aren’t real. They’re an imaginary host of fictional characters who presented themselves to me, fully formed, last spring. They moseyed up and introduced themselves to me throughout my sabbatical, which turned out to be a glorious, trippy, and surprising dance with creativity. It turns out that meeting these imaginary friends of mine was a spiritual exercise – because a year ago I learned that the act of praying, of opening, isn’t just about speaking words to a god you may or not believe in; it also has everything to do with the creative spirit, which some call “God” and others call “the Muse.”

‹ The first book I read on sabbatical was Beginner’s Grace: Bringing Prayer to Life, by my colleague Kate Braestrup.  Among her quirky and soulful reflections, I discovered Father Mychal’s prayer:

Holy One, take me where you want me to go
Let me meet whom you want me to meet
Tell me what you want me to say
And keep me out of your way.

You know how sometimes you stumble upon a poem, or a song, or a quote, and it lights up like the Vegas Strip? Have you ever read something and heard a deep, ancient voice whooping, because it hits your soul in just the right spot?

It’s a nice feeling. It’s like being handed a map when you’re feeling lost, or coming up for air after being underwater. These words continue to have that effect on me. And: it feels important to call this “Father Mychal’s prayer.” He’s pictured here, in an icon created by Robert Lentz.

Father Mychal Judge was a Franciscan priest; he was also a gay man; a recovering alcoholic; a chaplain to the New York City Fire Department. He was known for ministering to the homeless, recovering alcoholics,
immigrants, gays and lesbians, and people with AIDS.

On September 11th, 2001, Father Mychal rushed to the smoking World Trade Center along with dozens of New York firefighters. He prayed with them, and with the survivors who staggered out of the buildings. But he was killed – like thousands of others who died that morning – when the South Tower collapsed. He was 68 years old.
‹
Prayer is one of the oldest human practices and one of the most universal. Still, I’m guessing that the word prayer makes some of you squirm, and makes others of you yawn. To you I say: we UU’s are defined by our curiosity. If we Unitarian Universalists believe that our spiritual journeys – our very lives – are dynamic, malleable, and always evolving to accommodate new perspectives on truth and meaning... can’t the words we
use be malleable and evolving, too?

For my part, prayer is a way to “connect and reconnect to the source of our lives.” When I pray, I listen for the steady, nourishing hum underneath the chatter I carry around inside of my head. Prayer is about my relationship with That Which Is Larger, That Which Is Wiser, That Which Is More Creative and More Compassionate than my
individual self.

Whether we approach the Great, Silent Mysterious with awe, despair, or soul-deep questioning, I believe that there must be something larger than us, or we risk putting ourselves at the center of the universe. Your “something larger” can be the collective unconscious, or creativity. It can be whatever you want to name it... but something shift when we’re willing to let “it” be out there, beyond our human selves. Let’s explore these words more deeply.

Holy One...

For me, Holy One is a good ‘nuff name for the All That Is, which is why it’s the only alteration I made to Father Mychal’s prayer: I changed it from “Lord.” As a Franciscan priest, Father Mychal clearly felt comfortable addressing the Presence in the Void as “Lord.” I don’t. So I changed it. You get to do that when you “connect and reconnect” to Life: do your own naming. That’s one of the rules.

Holy One, take me where you want me to go

The phrase “take me where you want me to go” is not a not a jettisoning of free will; it’s not a handing over of marionette strings to The Great Puppeteer in the Sky. I view these words as a healthy surrender; an acknowledgment that we can’t steer our lives through sheer will (this has been an important lesson for me, these past, oh, let me count... forty years). Take me where you want me to go is an invitation for a Wiser Knowing to be our co-pilot, and counter our willful impulses.

This is what writer Martha Beck hints at when she explains, “My God is... amorphous, more of a universal constant, like gravity or magnetism. This constant doesn’t pick favorites; it simply flows into any opening we make for it.”

Goodness, or Mystery, flows into all openings available to it, including the openings we create in ourselves. That same notion is reflected in one of Taoism’s4 most important concepts: wu wei, which means “doing without doing,” or “no action.”

The idea [of wu wei ] is that when you are aligned with the wisdom in yourself, open to joy without clinging, [you’ll be carried] along like a raft on a river. You’ll end up moving with great speed and power, but all of
that energy is generated by the current, not by you. The only thing you have to do is float.

When I catch myself revving my engines willfully, this prayer reminds me “to ride the current without struggling.” It’s about trusting that, if I get out of my own way, great things will happen. And they do.

Let me meet whom you want me to meet

This just might be the juiciest, ripest line in the entire prayer (for an extravert, at least). Each day delivers unto us surprises; responding to those summons is a form of receiving. Call it “That Which Larger and Wiser Than Ourselves” or call it “the Unconscious,” but Life addresses us, and invites us to respond, to receive, at every turn.

Again, I don’t believe that we live in a puppet master Universe; I don’t believe that our paths are pre-charted and criss-crossed with dotted lines leading us to the people that Destiny wants us to meet. I do believe that when we open and attune to the world, we rest in a current that has its own force and direction.

“It is clear,” says Gregg Levoy, that ‘living means being addressed,’ as the theologian Martin Buber once said,
and whatever or whomever is addressing us is a power like wind or fusion or faith: we can’t see the force, but we can see what it does. If I suspend disbelief and trust that The Current Which Is Larger Than Us carries us
towards people who would teach us, help us, bless us, cheer us... well, it shifts the way I engage with all people, whether stranger or friend.

Tell me what you want me to say

This is where things get trippy. When I began to read and pray this line, it twanged the strings of my growing creative hunger. Months before my sabbatical started, a story began stirring in me, asking to be written. I trusted that creative stirring and decided to find out what wanted to emerge. As soon as my feet were planted in Portland, I sat down and invited the Muse to work with me. Tell me what you want me to say. And boy, did she show up.

At the end of those three months, I’d written – well, not a complete novel, but a 50,000- word second draft of one (the equivalent of twenty-five sermons); it’s a frame that I’ll return to this summer, to embroider it into a finished work. No matter how many hours I spent pulling that story out of the ether, I didn’t write it by myself. The ghosts of my characters knocking on the door, trying to get onto the page, were there all along.

Writer Elizabeth Gilbert says, 

I... believe that the world is being constantly circled as though by gulfstream forces, ideas, and creativity that want to be made manifest, and they’re looking for portals to come through to people and if you don’t do it they’ll go find someone else. You have to convince it that you’re serious; you have to show it respect; you have to talk to it and let it know that you’re there.

What you’re hearing is Gilbert’s conviction that if we view the source of creativity – or wisdom or compassion – as coming from inside of us, then we’re doomed. Putting that much pressure on ourselves – to be the Source, to be the fountain – means that eventually we’ll fear falling short, or running dry; we fear burning out or going mad.

But If the source of ideas is outside of us, it becomes possible to get some distance, negotiate, even fight with it, instead of beating yourself up all the time. It’s an it, or a her. It’s not you.

This is how the singer Tom Waits found his artistic liberation:  he was driving on the LA freeway and a little fragment of a beautiful song comes to him, but he has no way to record it. He feels the old pressure: I’m not good enough, I’m going to lose it, It’ll haunt me forever. But he backed off, established that negotiating distance, and said:

Excuse me. Can you not see that I’m driving? If you’re serious about wanting to exist, I spend eight hours a day in the studio. You’re welcome to come visit me when I’m at the piano. Otherwise, leave me alone and go bother Leonard Cohen.

That’s another rule: you get to push back and set some terms for the Muse. “You don’t need to prostrate yourself to it, because it’s not fragile,” counsels Elizabeth Gilbert, but you do have to show her that you’re serious, because the Muse rewards “people who are at their desk at six o’clock in the morning, working.”

Tell me what you want me to say. Let me meet whom you want me to meet.

As it turns out, my Muse – my Larger-Than-I – wanted to introduce me to the gaggle of fictional characters riding on her train, asking to be born. Mystery flows into all openings available to it. My job was to show up, willing and waiting, and put in the work.

 What an all-purpose prayer: it’s an invitation for the Spirit of Life, and a contract for partnering with the Muse! And then, this sweet ending:

And keep me out of your way

This line, says Kate Braestrup, “is the most important”:

Oh! May I not prove to be an obstacle... May I be transparent, vanish! so
that your light may shine through me. But if I can’t make things better,
[Holy One], please, please, don’t let me make things worse.

That alone, friends, is a darn fine prayer: please, don’t let me make things worse. Some days, that’s the best we can hope for.

Sturdy Grace, take each of us where you want us to go,
Let us meet whom you want us to meet,
Tell us what you want us to say,
And keep us out of your way.

Endnotes:
1. Rev. Kate serves as a chaplain in Maine. Her other books – highly recommended reading, here! – are Here If You Need Me and Marriage and Other Acts of Charity.
2. Rev. Erik Wikstrom, in Simply Pray.
3. Martha Beck, Leaving the Saints, p. 194.
4. In fact, Beck lived in Asia for a number of years and picked up on a lot Asian spirituality. She explores images like being “a leaf in the stream” in Leaving the Saints, and also offers brief reflections on Asian spirituality in Expecting Adam.
5. The words of the Rev. Sarah Moldenhauer-Salazar.
6. In Leaving the Saints by Martha Beck, p. 196.
7. In Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life, p. 2.
8. In the years since Eat, Pray, Love was published, Gilbert has turned her attention to creativity – and, in her words, “How you can live a lifetime of creativity without cutting your ear off” – without falling into madness by trying to “top” yourself. Her most vivid thoughts about creativity can be heard in her TED talk (see YouTube) and on the March 8th, 2011 “Help!” episode of WNYC’s Radiolab podcast.
9. This story was related by Gilbert on RadioLab (see previous note).
10. RadioLab again!
11. Beginner’s Grace, p. 112.

Regrets, Do-Overs and Giving Up Hope for a Better Past

Sunday, May 13, 2012
Rev. Erika Hewitt

We’ve all made mistakes, but some of us live with regrets that we can’t quite shake. How do we escape the ghost of “coulda, woulda, shoulda” to make peace with the ways that we’ve severed ourselves from possibility? Is there freedom from regret? Come consider the spiritual richness of choosing where to orient our hope.

(Annual Meeting follows the 11 a.m. service)
Sermon Text: 

“Regrets, Do-Overs, and Giving up Hope of a Better Past”

© Rev. Erika Hewitt
UU Community Church of Santa Monica
13 May 2012
 
“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.” ~ Arthur Miller
 
One of the things that’s on my perennial “to do list” is to catch up on movies – not just releases, but the classics I never got to see. Not too long ago I finally saw Casablanca – that iconic film set in the early days World War II. Given the film’s iconic status,watching it definitely counted as...let’s call it “cultural studies.”
 
“Who can forget the scene at the end?,” asks Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert. (If you’ve never seen “the scene at the end” – or any of this film), this is about all you needto know: Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman are standing on the tarmac as she tries to decide whether to stay in Casablanca with the man she loves or
board the plane and leave with her husband. Bogey turns to Bergman and says: “Inside we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and
you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon and for the rest of your life.”
 
As commentary, Gilbert then remarks, This thin slice of melodrama is among the most memorable scenes in the history of cinema... because most of us have stood on that same runway from time to time. Our most consequential choices – whether to marry, have children, buy a house, enter a profession, move abroad – are often shaped by how we imagine our future regrets (“Oh no, I forgot to have a baby!”).
 
Regret, in other words, doesn’t just color the past. Regret can be so painful, so haunting, that our experience of it shapes our approach to the future. The word remorse, at its roots, means “to bite back,” and indeed, many of us know what it’s like when your past actions (or inactions) follow you like one of those annoying little dogs, more fur than anything else, nipping at your pant leg as you try to move forward. Once bitten, twice shy, the saying goes.
 
Regret, remorse, ruefulness – call it what you want – we tend to feel these emotions in situations that center, to some degree, on our own agency: incidents in which we played a role, and wish that the Universe could grant us a “do-over.” In this sermon, I want to examine the scale of potential regrets that we human beings carry within us, and how regret shapes our relationship with ourselves and with other people.
 
First, although it may be impossible to measure regret, and the degree to which we hunger for a “do-over,” let’s say there’s a 10-point Scale of Regret: ten degrees of kicking ourselves for something we did, or didn’t do.
I find the territory especially fertile at the bottom of the scale (let’s call it “1”), where it’s barely possible to even use the word regret. There’s no self-recrimination, no guilt, just wondering about What Might Have Been. It might not be useful – but personally I find it irresistible – to travel back to moments when, like Ingrid, I’ve stood on the tarmac, making a choice that would cut off a thousand possibilities.
 
I don’t have to understand quantum physics to believe that there are countless parallel universes out there, discrete threads in the rippling fabric of the space-time continuum, in which other choices were made, and other futures lived into. That wondering – the bittersweet acknowledgment that it might have been otherwise – allows me to be more fully present in this life.
 
As we move up the scale of regret – from 1 to the 3 or 4 range – it becomes harder to be at peace with the ways that we’ve severed ourselves from possibility. These are the regrets where, in retrospect, we understand that we allowed a small reward to slip away too easily, or we introduced unnecessary friction into our lives. They’re not necessarily mistakes, but coins tossed into the fountain of Life Lessons.
 
As a college student, I didn’t have the maturity to construct a sense of self around my own needs and wishes. Instead, I allowed myself to be guided by what others thought of me, how they evaluated me. On a scale of 1 to 10, one of my level-5 regrets is that I dropped out of calculus because I was afraid I wouldn’t get an A. Without calculus, I had to drop my pre-med major. Not going to medical school is one of those level-1 regrets:
Would I have made a good doctor?, I wonder. Would I have been fulfilled? And: Would I have found Unitarian Universalism? But over the past two decades, I’ve been bitten from time to time by sharper teeth of remorse: knowing that I sacrificed my own interests & confidence for a number (GPA) that now seems empty.
 
As we enter the 7 to 8 range on our Scale of Regrets, we’re now entering prickly territory (as maps of yore summarized the gaping ocean between continents, “Here Be Dragons”); my friend Dana calls them “the kind of regrets that make you want a time machine.”
 
I say, if you’re making jokes about time machines, you haven’t reached the top of the scale yet. The 9s and 10s are nothing to joke about. These are the ghosts that haunt our dreams, as well as our waking hours. Almost certainly they’re the choices or actions that hurt not just us, but people whom we care about. They might even be mistakes that led to losing someone we cared about.
 
I believe that there are people whose regrets never rise above the midpoint of our imaginary ten-point scale (...which leads me to a parenthetical note: in researching this sermon, I stumbled upon a book called No Regrets, subtitled The Best, Worst, & Most #$%*ing Ridiculous Tattoos Ever. The book cemented my suspicion that a “no regrets” mentality has a strong genetic component. If having a pair of technicolor unicorns copulating on your back or a smiling portrait of Dr. Phil on your behind doesn’t trigger any regrets later in life, then the good Lord bless you and keep you, but we are Very Different People.)
 
I admire people who cheerfully admit that they don’t regret anything more than, say, a failure to play the piano or speak Spanish. People who aren’t haunted by remorse use forward-leaning language: they “put it behind them;” they “don’t look back;” they’ve “moved on.” Perhaps they just haven’t made many mistakes. (I am not one of those
people.)
 
I do believe that, at its milder levels, regret can be healthy because it means that we’re willing to examine ourselves for how we led ourselves, or others, astray. Taking wrong turns requires us to recalculate our positions, which matures us, both emotionally and spiritually – especially when we name our wrong turns using active verbs (“I chose to have these technicolor unicorns tattooed on my back, and wish I hadn’t”) instead of the
passive verbs that so many politicians seem to use (“lapses in judgment occurred”). Regret forms a threshold not just for learning, but also for asking forgiveness.
 
Poet Mark Nepo says, 
 
Everyone in the world personalizes and projects. Personalizing is mistaking what happens in the world as always having to do with you....Projecting is the reverse. It occurs when we place the things that happen in us onto the world around us. Often unknowingly, we attribute our fears and frustrations to others.... The truth is that no one can avoid personalizing or projecting. There are only those of us who are aware of it, and those of us
who are not; only those of us who own it when it happens, and those of us who don’t. But this difference is crucial. Not owning these things can end relationships. Owning them can deepen relationships.
 
It can take years to do this: to “own” our stuff. Our souls, often, would rather forget, or blame someone else. And that’s a hazard. Regret becomes unhealthy when it soaks us in bitterness, prevents us from forgiving ourselves, or cripples us so that we stand frozen on the tarmac, unable to make any decisions whatsoever. It becomes particularly dangerous when its metastasizes into resentment.
 
} Many of us here have, through our own choice, parted ways with religious traditions in which the language of “sin” and “confession” figures prominently. To mock that language, or live in reaction to it, is to overlook its potential for spiritual depth. Our Unitarian Universalist tradition has come to center itself on the notion not just of
“covenant” but of “right relationship.” We live in relationship with one another, and on a good day, we do so lovingly. Right relationship is at the heart of why it’s so powerful to reflect on, and admit out loud, that we fall short of our expectations. When our humanness and our mistakes do push us off balance, we can bear witness to the mis-step in a manner that restores balance, not brings more disorder to it. When we can admit, and name, the qualities that make us human, we free ourselves to be more real, and to be more available to one other.
 
As good as humankind is, we’re meant to keep getting better. Each time we name a regret, we are really naming our hopes. To say, “I didn’t handle that very well” is to say, “I’m not done as a person,” which carries the hope of growing in that direction.
 
How do we grow, then? In concrete terms, is there any way to outwit regret, and make choices that safeguard against it? Why, yes. And it goes beyond the simple wisdom of thinking carefully before getting a tattoo. Since science has something to teach us about our own psychological blind spots (and since only in a UU congregation could science trump religion), I’m going to return to Daniel Gilbert, the Harvard psychologist. He explains that in making decisions, most of us expect that we will “regret foolish actions more than foolish inactions.” We hold back when an enterprise seems risky; we choose safe inaction rather than plunge ahead. Nine out of ten people, in fact, anticipate that “I shouldn’t have done that” regret will be more painful than “I should have done that” regret.
 
“But studies also show,” says Gilbert, “that nine out of ten people are wrong... [P]eople of every age and in every walk of life seem to regret not having done things much more than they regret things they did.” Why? It has to do with our “psychological immune system,” which has a more difficult time manufacturing positive and credible views of inactions than of actions....Because we do not realize that our psychological immune systems can rationalize an excess of courage more easily than an excess of cowardice, we hedge our bets when we should blunder forward.
 
As students of the silver screen recall, Bogart’s admonition about future regret led Bergman to board the plane and fly away with her husband. Had she stayed with Bogey in Casablanca, she would probably have felt just
fine. Not right away, perhaps, but soon, and for the rest of her life. Which of your fears are holding you back from blundering forward? Where, in your soul, is “an excess of courage” hungering to be acted upon? What regrets do you need to let go of, to move through life with greater ease? For what might you begin to forgive yourself?
Where might you repair a broken relationship with others?  May we move forward with confidence, both in the Larger Love that holds us, and in our own power to repair and rebuild our hearts.
 
 
Endnotes
1. In Stumbling on Happiness, pp. 195-6.
2. M. Curtiz, Casablanca, Warner Bros., 1942.
3. By Aviva Yael and P.M. Chen. Do not go reading this book unless you’re prepared to laugh and be supremely disturbed.
4. Barbara Brown Taylor, in “Before Computers.”Christian Century, July 13, 2010, p. 35.
5. Gilbert, p. 197.