Trepidation and Trauma

Back on September 6, I was shocked in the pulpit (literally), when my defibrillator fired during the closing hymn. After a serious increase in medication dosage, my ventricular tachycardia seems to be under control. However, the medication does have side effects with which I am learning to cope.

One side effect I did not expect has occurred when I have been in the pulpit since that event. Each time, I have endured 5-10 minutes of cold sweats, high anxiety, and fear that my device was going to be set off once again. I have fought through each instance with deep breathing, some water, and focus.

After sharing my experiences with a colleague and expressing the fear I was feeling about my ability to continue pursuing a life in the pulpit, she suggested that I had in fact suffered a trauma. She offered some ideas about reclaiming my sacred space and regaining some equilibrium in my life.

I found this suggestion incredibly wise and wondered why I had not thought of it myself. Of course, that is perhaps the first quality of trauma – that we can see it in others but rarely in ourselves. Ironically, I have been leading Building Your Own Theology sessions, where we have discussed definitions of words like sin as separation, and evil as that which prevents creativity from occurring. Anyone who has taken Suzy Pangerl’s course in “Evil, Trauma and Ambiguity” at Meadville Lombard Theological School can certainly relate.

A valuable lesson for me in this ordeal has been the reminder of the delicate connection between body and mind, between physical and mental health. I’m not sure all the pills in the world will help me reclaim my pulpit, and spiritual practice alone will not cure the electrical failings of my heart. Like many things in life, I must find a balance if I am to achieve an equilibrium that will sustain my prophetic voice and my passion for ministry.

Trauma comes in many guises in our lives. If you are suffering and pills provide no relief, perhaps this perspective will be useful. And remember that life is too short to let guilt, shame, or inertia prevent you from seeking the happiness and fulfillment you deserve.

Oscar's Muse Burrow

Oscar here, the world's first Unitarian Universalist groundhog. While Jeff is in the other room taking a nap (it was a rough service this morning!), I thought that I would stop in and type hello to all of his loyal readers. A lot of you has asked me, what about Unitarian Universalism appeals to me, that is, as a groundhog? Well, I have to admit a particular fondness for the seventh principle, the one about the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. I mean, it isn't about revering Nature...I am Nature, after all!

But, then, as I see it, we are all part of Nature. And that brings me back to the first principle. the inherent worth and dignity of every person. Now, I'm no Punxatawney Phil-osopher (heh, heh!), but I saw the faces of the people coming out of the Worship Room on Sunday. Many of them looked right into my eyes, shook my paw, and talked to me (I think Jeff was getting just a little jealous). I really felt welcomed by everyone. I felt like a person, which is the way we want all of our visitors to feel.

And, another thing while we're on the topic of "persons." I helped Jeff in the pulpit today while the children were still in the worship service. It did these ol' woodchuck eyes good to see those precious faces and the innocent smiles of those pups looking back at me. The world can be a tough place, so I love talking to the child in all of us on Sunday mornings.

Uh oh, I hear Jeff stirring, so I better sign off for now. TTFN (ta-ta for now!)

"Style" Vs. Substance

I have not been home to Pittsburgh for more than two months now, and I could not put it off any longer. I had to get my hair cut (or risk being what my father always referred to as "a sheep-killin' dog). Typical of my neighborhood here in Queens, there is a place just a few blocks away with the familiar spinning barber pole. So, I walked over.

As he began, however, I knew immediately that I was in the hands, not of a barber, but of a stylist. For one, he did not respond to my friendly verbal gestures of conversation. But, no doubt remained as he sped around my head like an Indy pit crew. In those fleeting moments, I wondered if I would emerge looking like Yul Brynner.

After ten minutes, I left the shop. His work was perfectly suitable and reasonably priced. However, I sensed a strange emptiness, as if I had somehow not gotten my money's worth. I felt somehow sad, like an opportunity had been lost.

Now, I have been going to the same barber, Ron, in Pittsburgh for...I don't know...maybe 20 years. I probably know his last name, but somehow it just isn't an important part of our relationship. A haircut at Ron's Barber Shop takes 30 minutes, minimum. For me, add another 10-15 minutes because Ron is the only person I trust with my beard. And, of course, if there are others waiting in the chairs, you can count on spending one or two hours, perhaps more.

What you get in that time, for the same money the stylist charges, is conversation. But, talking with Ron and the other regulars isn't just idle chat about the weather, fishing, high school football, or politics. The time spent in Ron's Barber Shop is time spent among men, being men, talking about men's issues.

Because, as soon as you cross the threshold into Ron's shop, you are clearly entering the domain of men. No decorations, a black and white television (no cable, only rabbit ears), linoleum, a single bathroom (no gender designation needed), the morning paper, and well-thumbed magazines about golf and rifles (with a few comics for the boys, which I donated).

Now, some of you may be thinking that this is a rather old-fashioned notion of manhood, bordering on the macho sexist, or at least insensitive and unenlightened. But, Ron's is not a place of judgment or intolerance. We talk about our families and relationships, but I have not once heard a disparaging remark made about another person based on anything except that person's character or actions. Ron, an unassuming and gentle man, is a Delilah sheering the pretense of bravado and bluster away from dads, mates, brothers, and sons in a bastion of raw, honest maleness.

That is what I missed when I got my hair "styled" this morning. I missed spending time with other men in honest relationship, away from the cares and responsibilities of life for a few moments. I missed experiencing this special type of ministry, a laying on of hands if you will, that leaves one feeling respected and renewed.

Meet Oscar

Last Sunday, I introduced a new friend to my congregation. Being from Western Pennsylvania, home of Punxatawney and Groundhog Day, it was only natural that I meet the world's first Unitarian Universalist groundhog. Please meet Oscar, who you can see here reading his favorite web site. Like me, Oscar is a fan of pizza (veggies only, please). Last Sunday, Oscar helped me tell a story for a Time for All Ages segment, which he would like to also share with our cyber friends.

This is a story about a bunny named Michael. Michael was not quite a grown up rabbit yet. But, the adult rabbits saw that Michael was very smart for a bunny, very creative for such a youngster, and unafraid to share his notions with other rabbits.

Michael lived in a community of rabbits (which is called a warren) on the border between a lovely green meadow and a majestic forest of oaks, elms, and maples. Michael liked his warren, but always sensed that their lives could be better – that perhaps there was more to life than frolicking in the meadow, or munching on wild nuts and berries.

One day, Michael strayed far into the forest and into a large rock outcropping on a hillside overlooking the whole forest, where he met another rabbit. Her name was Margaret. But, this rabbit was not the same color of brown of other rabbits Michael knew. And, this rabbit seemed very thin and not as big and strong as the rabbits from Michael’s warren.

Margaret told Michael that she lived in a warren on the other side of the forest, a place where there were many foxes that hunted the rabbits and made it difficult for them to gather food for the upcoming winter. So, Michael returned home and talked to the elders about sharing their food with the rabbits of this other community. But, the elders replied that warrens never shared food before and that he needed to worry about winter and his own warren.

Months went by and the snows came. One day, Michael wandered through the forest near the rocks and ran into Margaret again. She looked very sick and said that her warren was almost completely out of food. So, Michael returned to the elders and asked once again about sharing food. But, the elders replied that now was a bad time to give away food, because winter could go on for another month or more.

The snows finally stopped, and Michael once again found Margaret in the woods. Her warren was in deep trouble because their food had run out and the spring rains had flooded their homes. So, Michael once again appealed to his elders, who agreed to quickly send some food to Margaret’s warren. But, the rescue party was disorganized and paid no attention to the clouds building on the horizon. Halfway through the forest, a huge storm descended and the rabbits had to abandon their food to avoid being swept away by the rains. Michael led them to cover in the rock outcropping until the storm passed.

When Michael and the other rabbits finally returned home, their warren was in a state of panic. Huge machines were moving mountains of earth and destroying the homes of Michael’s family and friends. At that moment, Michael had an idea. He quickly gathered all of the rabbits and told them to take what possessions they could and head back to the rock outcropping. In the meantime, he ran to Margaret’s warren, and told the elders there to gather their belongings and follow him to the rocks.

Over the next few weeks, the two warrens worked together to build a new home amidst the rocks, which sheltered them from rain and snow, and protected them from the foxes. Michael and Margaret eventually married and had many bunnies of their own and the new warren lived happily ever after.

The moral of this story is that a good idea alone is never enough. An idea will fail if people are unwilling to change, if the timing is wrong, or if there is no plan to implement the idea. An idea will only work if people want to change, the timing is right, and there is a vision to accomplish the idea. Perhaps this is a valuable lesson for us all as we begin new church years.

Food Confessions

A few years ago, I wrote a sermon titled "Confessions of an Unrepentant Carnivore." Ironically, I never had a chance to deliver the sermon after the church's schedule changed.

Don't get me wrong. The point of the sermon wasn't anti-vegetarian or anti-vegan. Actually, the sermon was more about pointing out weaknesses I saw in some animal rights arguments. I have long admired people who lived without consuming meat, but just didn't see a time in the future when I could make a similar commitment.

Well, the irony of my unborn sermon has come full circle. A month ago, I decided that the time had come for me to make a commitment to healthier eating and to contributing one more small voice to those arguing that better, more efficient, and more humane ways exist to feed our population than currently employed tactics. My initial efforts have consisted of merely seeing if I could do this thing without going into beef withdrawal. Surprisingly, I honestly have not missed meat at all.

Now, I find the vegetarian substitutes for meat humorous, in that they often try to look like meat. I imagine some manufacturers hope to fool our long-time omnivorous taste buds into believing that that lump of soy protein is really a chicken nugget. But, I actually have not needed much faux-meat in my initial endeavor. As one raised in a household where fresh let alone raw vegetables were rarely served, there has been much I could do to expand my diet with new products. I even cooked my first kale and liked it (hmm, sounds like a Katy Perry song...).

So, I don't envision much tofurkey on my pizzas, but can see more varieties of other vegetables and cheeses. As for my vegan friends, be patient. I'm asking a lot of my badly nourished body now, without taking away milk, cheese, and eggs. But, the day may come because I can envision a time when we take a new look at our seven Unitarian Universalist principles and see the logical conclusion of combining the two framing principles. When we consider the inherent worth of all members of our interdependent web, then we must consider making all of the changes necessary to truly respect all life, and not just human life.

For now, however, let me have my homemade egg muffin sandwich...even if I now make it with spurious sausage.

Quitting

I work a lot on my computer. And, since my attention has a tendency to wander, I like to play quick games to focus my thoughts. My latest favorite is Internet Spades, but backgammon and various forms of solitaire will do, as well.

One incredibly frustrating thing about multiplayer games, however, is the tendency many players have to quit a game the moment their score goes sour. In spades, for instance, all too often opponents will quit a game if they lose a nil bid or if their assigned opponent fails to make their quota of tricks in a hand. I find the frequency with which this happens annoying, because I would prefer to play against humans than the somewhat predictable computer.

What irks me the most, however, is this tendency of people to quit at the first sign of adversity. Personally, I enjoy the challenge of overcoming a setback, and take great pride in winning a game during which the score was lopsided in the other team's favor.

But, I think it is the literal lack of willingness to "stay at the table" that perturbs me the most. I suppose that these players are looking for a game where they win 500 to nothing on two blind nil bids, and are not satisfied with anything less. If you want to play alone against the computer in search for the so-called perfect game, be my guest. But, for me, part of the point of playing any game with human companions is the act of playing, of strategizing, and not simply seeking a desired outcome. Frankly, I would rather lose a tight, well-played match than win simply because the other players left the field of play.

Sometimes, staying at the table is not easy. Life does not always deal fair hands to everyone. Sometimes, we might not like the style of other players. And, sometimes, we have to utilize strategies we find uncomfortable in order to achieve our goals.

But life, whether we talk about playing a card game, or running a church, or managing our society, calls upon us all to stay at the table. We may not always get our way. But, as we learn more about others, we learn more about ourselves. And, in the end, the solutions we arrive at will be stronger for our efforts.

Re-dedication Sunday

I would like to put out there the suggestion that Unitarian Universalist churches consider placing the last Sunday of July on their liturgical calendars as Re-dedication Sunday, in memory of the event on July 27, 2008 at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. We did this at our service last Sunday at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation at Shelter Rock, resulting in a ritual that many in attendance found deeply moving.

I include much of non-sermon text below as the context for the service. The intent was to recognize that our sanctuaries are sacred spaces into which we bring much emotion throughout the year. The idea of Re-dedication Sunday is to cleanse our worship rooms of the past year's accumulation of pain, anxiety, fear, and despair so that healing may begin anew.

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Re-dedication of Worship Center Service Elements

Call to Worship

The first peace…is that which comes from within the souls of men when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells the Sacred, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us. This is the real peace, and the others are but reflections of this. The second peace is that which is made between two individuals, and the third is that which is made between two nations. But above all you should understand that there can never be peace between nations until there is first known that true peace which is within the souls of men.
-- Black Elk in The Sacred Pipe: Black Elk's Account of the Seven Rites of the Oglala Sioux (1953)

Chalice Lighting

Let there be light!
Let it shine in dark places,
in moments of pain,
in times of grief,
in the darkness of hatred, violence, oppression,
where there is discouragement and despair.
Wherever darkness is to be put to flight,
Let there be light!
-- Gordon McKeeman, Unitarian minister quoting Genesis 1:3 (from 1997 UUMA Worship Materials Collection)

Remembrance

Spirit of Life and Love that we know by many names, enter this space as we honor those whose lives were lost on Sunday, July 27, 2008. One year ago tomorrow, a man entered the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville with a shotgun. In a few short moments, the violent expression of his hate and frustration left two people dead, several wounded, and many shaken with trauma. We remember and honor those directly affected by the shootings at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. We also remember and honor our own feelings we have experienced and will continue to experience related to this and other similar events.

We light a candle in memory of Gregory Joseph (Greg) McKendry Jr., of Knoxville, Tennessee. He was an usher and board member of the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church.
We light a candle for Linda Kraeger. She was a member of the Westside Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in Farragut, Tennessee.

We take time now to remember the joys and the pains that entered through these doors today. We reach out to those who have come in today with heavy hearts; those who are struggling; those among us who are grieving; those who are caring for a loved one; those who are anxiously waiting for an unknown future, and all who are living with illness. We remember those who are home bound or hospitalized or, for whatever reason, could not be present with us today. May their names and faces be brought to mind. May they be assured that they have not been forgotten, and by our reaching out may they know that their presence is missed. Let us also celebrate the accomplishments and successful passages of life events we share today.

Just like our tools of technology, we occasionally need to reboot our lives so that we can better respond to life’s challenges and welcome life’s happiness. We need to cleanse our minds of outworn thoughts of guilt or shame. We need to cleanse our souls of outworn ways of living and being. Throughout the past year, this worship center has been a receptacle for the emotions brought in by the highs and lows of our lives. Just as we need help recovering from the challenges and the excitement of life, we should periodically cleanse our sacred spaces. Today, let us set about the work of cleansing ourselves and our religious home for the busy work in the year to come.

Offering

You may have noticed these boxes to my right. Standing on the Side of Love is a public advocacy campaign, sponsored by the Unitarian Universalist Association, promoting respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person. Standing on the Side of Love will confront exclusion, oppression, and violence based on identity. Based in the aspiration to create beloved community, the campaign will pursue social change through advocacy, public witness, and speaking out in solidarity with those whose lives are publicly demeaned. All people, not just Unitarian Universalists, are invited to stand, speak, worship, march, roll, and live on the side of the love. Now, in the spirit of remembrance and of unconditional love, I ask the ushers to come forward to collect our morning offering to support the work, the witness, and the wonder of this religious community.

Ritual of Re-Dedication

When I first heard of the events in Knoxville one year ago, I felt a sick dread in the pit of my stomach. Beyond the senselessness of the act, as a long-time religious education teacher and as a parent, I was particularly struck by the occurrence of the act during a children’s play. All that day, I read updates of the news, seeking more facts; seeking information; searching for some reason or explanation.

I talked with others about the event so that I could share my emotions and pain. For we know that by sharing our pain, we can work toward lessening its debilitating impact on us. We can imagine moving beyond these initial emotions toward response, toward action, toward reconciliation. That is the nature of resilience.

Sometimes, we come here on Sunday mornings to share our pain…our pain of anger, our pain of fear, our pain of frustration, our pain of sadness. By sharing in covenant our love for each other and for all of humankind, we build on the knowledge that a shared joy is doubled in the sharing and that a shared pain is half a pain.

I ask you now to rise and form a circle. In this circle of our congregation, let us today re-dedicate this worship room as sacred space. As the chalice, the symbol of our living tradition, is passed among you, hold it for a moment and place into this vessel the fire of your own commitment to this place. May the combined power of our thoughts and feelings cleanse this space of the past year’s accumulation of anxiety, fear, and despair, so that healing can begin anew.

As this flame consumes a year of pain, may this chalice represent the foundation of that joy that is our commitment to the inherent worth and dignity of every person. We remember not only the love we have for the victims of terrible events, but for anyone whose life is so bereft of compassion, that violence against others seems their only recourse. We remember to love and to forgive those who, either through mental illness, their own suffering from abuse or violence, or other challenges of life, must be held accountable for their own acts of violence perpetrated on others. Our commitment to justice, equity, and compassion in human relations calls on us to do this.

As we pass our chalice, let us join in singing the hymn Comfort Me.

Benediction

Please join hands for our closing words. For centuries, Unitarian Universalists have offered to the world the promise of hope; the promise of a world without hate; the promise of a world with equity and justice; the promise of a world without violence. Together, we here present affirm to build hope, for a hope shared can become a vision for the world. Now, more than ever, let us challenge ourselves in the coming year to stand on the side of love, offering the world in this sacred space the promise of hope.

Blessed be, Amen, and Let it be so.