Becoming the Wind

All my life I’ve been a blade of grass in the wind
Or like a stubborn tree, I’ve let the wind shape me
But now I’m feelin’ bold, enough to let go my hold
And I’ll not be a blade of grass again
I’m gonna be the wind
I’ll be the wind, I can wear the mountain down
And I’ll be the wind of hope, I can lift you off the ground
And I’ll fan the flames of love
You know they’ll never die again
Oh, I’m gonna be the wind.
                                     -- lyrics from “I’m Gonna Be the Wind” by Laurie Lewis



Reflection from Islam: A Short History, by Karen Armstrong
Perhaps the central paradox of the religious life is that it seeks transcendence, a dimension of existence that goes beyond our mundane lives, but that human beings can only experience this transcendent reality in earthly, physical phenomena.  People have sensed the divine in rocks, mountains, temple buildings, law codes, written texts, or in other men and women.  We never experience transcendence directly; our ecstasy is always “earthed,” enshrined in something or someone here below.  Religious people are trained…to use their creative imagination.

In Islam, Muslims have looked for God in history.  Their sacred scripture, the Qur’an, gave them a historical mission.  Their chief duty was to create a just community in which all members, even the most weak and vulnerable, were treated with absolute respect.  The experience of building such a society and living in it would give them intimations of the divine, because they would be living in accordance with God’s will…

Muslims developed their own rituals, mysticism, philosophy, doctrines, sacred texts, laws and shrines just like everybody else.  But all these religious pursuits sprang directly from the Muslims’ frequently anguished contemplation of the political affairs of Islamic society.  If state institutions did not measure up to the Quranic ideal, if their political leaders were cruel or exploitative, or if their community was humiliated by apparently irreligious enemies, a Muslim could feel that his or her faith in life’s ultimate purpose and value was in jeopardy…Consequently, the historical trials and tribulations of the Muslim community – political assassinations, civil wars, invasions, and the rise and fall of ruling dynasties – were not divorced from the interior religious quest, but were the essence of the Islamic vision.

Becoming the Wind

Popular lyricists love their metaphors.  Sometimes, a musical phrase takes on so much meaning, that our language and cultural understanding adopts the new interpretation. Pink Floyd made “another brick in the wall” synonymous with mindless bureaucracy and compliance.  The “bridge over troubled water” is the loving support we offer each other when we are weary and tears are in our eyes. And whenever I use the word “imagine,” I cannot help but think about John Lennon’s utopian vision and Strawberry Fields forever.
Another often-used nature metaphor involves singing about the wind.

• To Kerry Livgren of the group Kansas, the wind offers the vehicle for our searching, as we are all just “Dust in the Wind.” We are just drops of water in an endless sea, and all that we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see. Our physical bodies are insignificant next to the power of the wind. Wind is the endless, timeless, and steady progress of change in nature and only our spirits can connect with this force.
• To Bob Dylan “Blowin’ in the Wind,” represents a more specific harbinger of change, of a coming time when injustice and war will no longer be tolerated. Wind sweeps away the wrongs of society and encourages us to act upon more important considerations of our life’s purpose.
• To Jimi Hendrix, the “Wind Cries Mary” as a constant reminder of actions we wish we could take back, of words better left unspoken, of a love now lost. Wind reminds us to appreciate what we have and those we love and to never allow thoughtless deeds to jeopardize what really matters.
• To Elton John, the wind represents a more permanent loss – the snuffing of a “Candle in the Wind” of a prematurely shortened life full of energy and promise. Wind is not just the methodical erosion of mountains, but can also be a tornado touching down with mighty destruction for just seconds.

In our popular music, wind is an elemental force of change, moving us to action, guiding us toward meaning and understanding.  Wind offers closure, even the death of ideas, ways of living, or people important to us.
Nine years ago yesterday, September 11, 2001, we suffered a tragic act of violence and hate.  To some, the horror of that day's events still burns vividly in their minds – images of smoke and flame, of destruction and death.  The personal loss of loved ones and the broader shattering of confidence in our security and safety affected us all to some degree.  The process of grief challenges each of us during our lives. But, grieving is made all the more difficult when the loss occurred through the intentional or irresponsible acts of others.

Every year at this time, we seem to hear sentiments from those still coping with the aftermath of that horrific day.  While some focus on remembering the victims and the heroic efforts of rescuers, others stress their desire to punish any and everyone on which blame for the attacks can be assigned.  Sadly, there are those whose wish to paint that brush of blame on any Muslim, as if all adherents of Islam supported radical acts of fundamentalist violence.

Recently, people have expressed much public consternation over the proposed opening of a mosque near the former site of the World Trade Center in New York City.  One particularly troubling response came from the Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, which decided to make yesterday its first annual Burn-A-Koran-athon, finding and destroying as many copies of the Qur’an as a statement.  Thankfully, the planners canceled the event, but not before raising concerned eyebrows across the globe.

Historically, book burning is a favorite tool of totalitarians and bigots with philosophies grounded in intolerance and contempt for the rights of others.  Now, within the bounds of necessary local ordinances, I will affirm the right of anyone to build a fire, even for the purpose of burning whatever combustible products they choose.  We Unitarian Universalists certainly affirm using flame as a symbol for the transformative power of love in our lives.  But, I condemn as ignorant and hateful the burning of any books, let alone one deemed sacred by the followers of its teachings.

For the Qur’an is not just a book to a Muslim, and burning a Qur’an is not simply the misguided act of small minded people.  Most traditional schools of Islamic law generally forbid Muslims, unless in a state of ritual purity, from even touching a Qur'an.  The Qur’an is regarded as the literal word of God in its untranslated Arabic form.  Muslims must always treat the book with reverence, and discarding worn copies requires specific rituals.  Desecrating a copy of the Qur'an is punishable by imprisonment in some countries.

According to their web site, the “Dove World Outreach Center is a New Testament Church – based on the Bible, the Word of God.”  The non-denominational church has a history of provocative public protests against what it considers sins.  In the past, it has put up a sign on its property reading, “Islam is of the Devil,” and has joined the extremist Westboro Baptist Church in protesting homosexuality.  Its self-proclaimed purpose is to get Christians to stand up for the “truth” of the Bible.

Now I wonder, is this the truth of the Bible where Jesus says in Matthew 7:12, “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law of the prophets?”  Or is this the truth of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:44), when Jesus invoked listeners to “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you?”

Perhaps, finding the truth in the Bible compels us to look for the truth in the Qur’an.  So, in our spirit of promoting the free and responsible search for truth and meaning (and opposing the tyranny of the book burners of the world) let us examine what the Qur’an has to say about the wind. In Surah 3, The Family of Imram, verse 117 says:

The likeness of what they spend in the life of this world is as the likeness of wind in which is intense cold (that) smites the seed produce of a people who have done injustice to their souls and destroys it; and Allah is not unjust to them, but they are unjust to themselves.

Therefore, our acts during our lives that violate the commonly-held beliefs of the people act like an icy blast of wind that kills our crops. In other words, you get back from life what you put into it.  Don’t blame God for punishing you, for you laid the seeds of your own destruction through your own misdeeds, unbelief, or disobedience.  Sounds familiar doesn’t it?  It should.  Because in Matthew 26, verse 52, Jesus tells Peter to sheathe his sword drawn against the Romans, “for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”
Paul later tells the Galatians: 

…you reap whatever you sow.  If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit.  So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.  So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

And Buddhists, like many other adherents of various Asian religions, believe that we possess free will to choose between good or evil without the need of God’s intervention to implement the consequences of karma.

Quite the opposite of what some proponents claim, the Qur’an is far more than a simple list of prescribed behaviors for all Muslims.  The text often reads quite poetically.  For instance, up until now, all of our metaphors described wind not just as a benign force of erosion and passing on, but of violent turbulence and destruction.  Frequently, however, the Qur’an describes the wind quite differently. The wind is portrayed as sustainer, the medium by which nature spreads our seed and waters our crops.

In Surah 15, verse 22, the wind fertilizes, sending down the water from the clouds for us to drink.  In Surahs 35 and 45, the wind brings the clouds that actually bring life back to earth that has died.  This wind resurrects and is a sign of blessings to come.  Other citations specifically label the wind as the medium for the good news before the Mercy of Allah.  In Surahs 25 and 30, God uses the wind to send the pure water from the clouds, for which we should be grateful.

So, how may we apply this notion of the wind to our own circumstances?  For 150 years, this congregation (the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton), rooted firmly in the Mon Valley of Southwestern Pennsylvania, swayed with the gentle breezes of the passing years, bent under the impact of shifting population demographics, and suffered the battering of economic downturns.  These roots were important, for without roots, we wander aimlessly, with no past, no anchor.  Lacking roots, our traditions and rituals lose their impact and the gifts of our ancestors crumble to the dust of discarded relics in forgotten attic crawlspaces.

Perhaps, however, there comes a time when we must uproot – when we must no longer be satisfied with being a blade of grass blowing in the wind.  I don’t mean that we consider moving our building physically – although such a shift could someday reap benefits.  I’m talking about lifting ourselves out of the packed earth of complacency.  I am talking not just about the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton, but of our entire denomination moving beyond the self-satisfaction of having emancipated ourselves from dogmatic beliefs and creedal churches.

For many years, we as a congregation and as a denomination have stood firmly rooted in a belief in the unity of all that we find holy and in the basic goodness of humankind.  Our own tall tree of knowledge has affirmed the use of reason to make of our own earth and lives the paradise that lies within our will and determination to create.  Our branches have stretched far and wide into schools and universities, courtrooms and congresses, clinics and hospitals.

But, maybe the time has come to change our passive approach.  We can retain our convictions, our strength of belief.  We might want to consider, however, leaving the comfort of our houses of worship, spreading our message of universal love, freedom, and justice across a land growing ever more barren of those marvelous gifts.

Surah 90, The City, tells of how humankind is born with two eyes, a tongue and two lips, and that we know that two paths of life exist.

But [we] would not attempt the uphill road,
And what will make you comprehend what the uphill road is?
(It is) the setting free of a slave,
Or the giving of food in a day of hunger to an orphan,
Or to the poor man lying in the dust.
Then [we are] of those who believe and charge one another
to show patience, and charge one another to show compassion.

Like our abolitionist ancestors, we need to fight our modern slavery to money, material goods, and the bindings of social class.  We must find ways to eat more ethically and to feed the hundreds of millions who hunger.  We must seek ways to live nonviolently, to love unconditionally, and to dispel the dark clouds of fear and oppression.

In order to do that, we must become the wind.  We must become agents of change – not the destructive change of fundamentalist certitude and prejudice, or the corrosive erosion of indifference and stale tradition; but nurturing change raining down on a land thirsty for a saving message from a drought of hope.  Like a wind, we can blow onto the streets of the physical world.  We can waft through the communities of social media, into the world of cyberspace.  We can become the wind of good news, evangelizing our saving message.

Now, some equate such evangelism with proselytizing.  You might worry that our message will get tied up in telling folks that ours is the only true religious option.  So, in the name of tolerance, we end up not saying anything.  But Unitarian Universalist evangelism is not about converting people to the “one true church.”  It's certainly not about holding the keys to the doors of a kingdom locked forever to those who do not accept our version of the truth.  Unitarian Universalist evangelism is about letting people know that we are here; it is about telling the world that there is a vibrant and compassionate alternative to the hate-filled, fear mongers who despise anyone who is different from them.

Unitarian Universalist minister Tony Larsen was raised Catholic.  He went to parochial schools and attended catechism classes, where students were drilled on the important questions of their religion, and where they learned the right answers to those questions.  Because of his experiences as a child, Larsen believes that our kids need something to help them formulate their own answers to those ultimate questions in life.

So, Larsen developed a Unitarian Universalist catechism that provides children, as well as people of all ages, with an answer to the question, “What do you believe in?”  His catechism consists of three simple points:

1. Love your neighbor as yourself, which includes trying not to hurt people in any way;
2. Make the world a better place, which includes working for justice, peace, and freedom for all people; and
3. Search for the truth with an open mind.

Show patience and compassion; free the slaves and feed the hungry; and search for truth wherever that search leads you, whether it is the Bible or the Qur’an, the Bhagavad-Gita or the Tao Te Ching.

The popular 1980 Bob Segar song describes the experience of many adult Unitarian Universalists, who like Tony Larsen were raised in other faith traditions:

The years rolled slowly past and I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way, there were oh so many roads.
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed.
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searching for shelter again and again.

We found in our congregations shelter against the winds that rocked us.  We found in our heritage and history the roots we had long sought that welcomed diversity and freed people from oppression.

But, we have also grown comfortable in these shelters, our loving religious communities.  We have grown comfortable while countless others out there are buffeted as they run against the wind.  Let us, therefore, stream out into the world.  Let us spread the good news of Unitarian Universalism whenever someone wants to burn a Qur’an.  Let us spread our good news when a gay youth gets beat up.  Let us spread our good news when another corporation carelessly pillages our interdependent web of life.  Let us spread our good news when hard-working, but undocumented families are ripped apart and denied the promise of America afforded to each and every one of us at some time in our past.  Let us bring life, the life-giving waters of Unitarian Universalism, to a dying land, and let them know that we are here – that we are here to stay.

To worship God is nothing other than to serve the people.
It does not need rosaries, prayer carpets, or robes.
All peoples are members of the same body, created from one essence.
If fate brings suffering to one member
The others cannot stay at rest.
                                              -- “To Serve the People,” by Saadi, Persian Poet

Where is the Outrage?

As the anniversary of the September 11 attacks approaches, we are faced with a new threat to any hope of peaceful resolution to the challenges of religious plurality in our world.  The Dove World Outreach Center, a self-proclaimed "New Testament Church – based on the Bible, the Word of God," plans to burn Qur'ans this coming Saturday "in remembrance of the fallen victims of 9/11 and to stand against the evil of Islam."

Like many of my colleagues, I plan to read from the Qur'an during our Sunday morning worship service at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton as a show of support of our Muslim brothers and sisters across the globe.  But, after watching a CNN reporter interviewing the head of the Center, I must ask myself where are the same questions from the Christian majority of this nation?  The silence of religious leaders, if to do nothing more but to ask them not to commit such a misguided act of desecration, is deafening.

To Terry Jones and the members of the Dove World Outreach Center, please do not go through with this planned action.  Frankly, the threat alone of your protest has already accomplished its mission.  But, do you not understand that to a Muslim, the paper containing the holy words of the Qur'an has the same import as the steel and stone of the World Trade Centers?  By burning this sacred text, you are no better than those who flew planes on that fateful day.  And no matter how you read your sacred texts, this is not how Jesus taught us to live in religious community with others.

I know you will cite the angry outburst at the Temple as the lesson that Jesus offered for the occasional need to "make an example."  Do you not see that your action is not the same?  Jesus did not defy the Pharisees by burning the Torah.  He did not defile the idols of the Romans.  Yes, he got angry, showing his all-to-human side.  I put it to you and your congregation that that is the actual lesson of this incident - that his singular act of intemperance was so unusual, that even Jesus was not immune from feeling the hurt and betrayal of religious leaders gone astray.

And, from that lesson, we should learn that violence accomplishes nothing but breeding and spreading more violence.  Religious leaders, please reach out to Terry Jones and his congregation and implore him to cancel this event.  Encourage him to find more productive venues to express his opinions and make his points heard.  Stand on the side of love for the hundreds of millions of Muslims who do not support terrorism and who will be devastated by this planned act of mutilation of their holy text.

Instead, join with me and others who this Sunday will explore the writings of a religion that also honors the contributions of Abraham and Jesus to our religious heritage.

Seeing Colors

I find being colorblind at times annoying, but rarely does my disability seriously affect my functioning.  I learned early in life that certain careers were closed to me -- electrician, pilot, interior designer -- but colorblindness largely makes itself known in mismatched clothing and the inability to see numbers among the dots.

But, one time I do miss the ability to discern colors better is walking among nature.  I often cannot see certain creatures because they blend too well into the background.  And I often cannot determine species of birds or insects because their color scheme eludes me.  I imagine, however, that I compensate by perhaps seeing motion better than most, or that I can more frequently detect specific shapes in the mosaic of life (I have an uncanny eye for spotting coins in the dirt).  I also have a deep fondness for brilliant colors, the bright yellows, oranges, and purples that stand out so magnificently among the green leaves.

Today, I wandered down along the railroad tracks, unaware that I was about to be ambushed by all manner of life.  For one, I am not alone in noticing the abundant varieties of butterflies in the area this year.  In just 30 minutes or so, I spied a Red-Spotted Purple,  Silver-Bordered Fritillary, a Mourning Cloak, a Red Admiral and the ever-present Woollybear Moths, often dancing in pairs among the wild daisies.

As I took my usual place on the switchman's shed platform, I saw an old friend - a big Mallard - standing guard at his usual post at the end of the sand spit in the middle of the river.  Suddenly, a goose or heron of some kind swooped over to the island from the other side of the river and I quickly lost it in the foliage.

Motion in my lower field of vision brought a young groundhog to my attention, just 20 feet or so below the platform.  He kept eying me suspiciously and I tried not to move and startle him.  Of course, behind it all was the constant droning of crickets and the deafening buzzing of male cicadas looking for a mate.

As I continued my journey along the tracks, a brilliant goldfinch darted by.  I felt something on my arm.  Looking down, I examined a bright red Ladybug with no spots.  Now, depending on what culture I choose to acknowledge, that means that I will have no children (sorry Ashley and Tyler!), will soon get a pair of gloves, whatever ailment I have flew away with it (wouldn't that be nice), my crops will be good, or that fair weather is ahead. 

Who knows what other critters busily went about their business as I walked along the tracks?  Some I will always have difficulty seeing.  Some may forever elude my observation, no matter how diligently I hone my visual skills.  But, many of them lie within my ability to perceive them if I will only take the time to look.

UUA Blogger Survey

The Best Practices for Unitarian Universalist Blogging report, originally published in August of 2008, is being updated and bloggers who promote Unitarian Universalism are being surveyed. We are being asked to post the questions and our answers to our blogs...so here goes.

1. Why do you blog? What goals do you have for your blog?
Well, that's a really good question.  The main reason I blog is that I believe that all ministers should be blogging, offering our opinions, feelings, and insights in this important venue for modern seekers.  For me, it is a form of Unitarian Universalist evangelism -- a chance for people to connect to our movement in one more way beyond the Sunday morning worship service or the weeknight committee/program meeting.

My goals are many: to continue my process of reflection and discernment as I prepare to enter into fellowship with other ministers; to interact with others in a public forum on relevant issues; and to let my muse run wild on occasion.

2.  Who is your intended audience?
Anyone interested in the free and responsible search for truth and meaning; anyone who wants to sit across the table from me and share a pizza.

3.  Who owns your blog? Does it belong to you as individual or to your congregation or other organization?
The muse kennel and pizzatorium is all me.  I will certainly refer to my congregation on occasion, and post sermons, but my blog is my side of this virtual conversation.

4. How frequently do you post?
Not nearly often enough!  I am one of the world's worst journalists.  And, I guess that I feel that the only time I want to blog is when I really have something important to say.  Needless to say, I don't "get" Twitter.

5.  What is the tone of your blog?
I suppose the tone is essentially professional with an important touch of the personal.  I really just go where my muse takes me in regards to tone.

6.  What steps do you take to make sure that your blog is a safe space, both for you and for other participants? Do you have a code of conduct?
I filter comments (most of which are spam anyway) and will not post comments that are snarky or combative to the point of killing dialogue.  As for me, anything I post is fair game and I assume is public.  If I feel unsafe posting it, then I simply won't.

7.  What kinds of boundaries do you observe around confidentiality?
I generally don't name people I discuss, but my stories are mostly about me anyway.  I would endeavor never to discuss someone else in a way that they could be identified without asking their permission first.  But, generally, if I do mention someone else, it is to praise them or give them props for helping me in some way.

8.  How do you respond to comments and email from readers?
I will always post and respond to comments and emails that are respectful and that contribute to the ongoing dialogue.  Sarcastic and excessively argumentative (those that in my opinion shut down discourse) comments are generally ignored.

9.  What are the most challenging aspects of blogging in your experience?
Inertia is the biggest problem and I am my own worst critic.  If I don't feel particularly qualified to comment on a topic, or feel that my opinion is not all that unique, then I tend to not post.  I suppose that I just need to grant myself the permission to let others make that call.

10.  What are the most rewarding aspects of blogging in your experience?
I feel the most reward when I can give voice to an idea or experience that would not likely have been expressed via other avenues open to me.  I guess I feel that if my posts affect just one other person in some way, then the effort is worthwhile. 

11.  What advice would you give to Unitarian Universalists who are new to blogging and want to get started?
Stop worrying about it and let your muse off its leash!  You will never please anyone, and you can never please anyone unless you give yourself the chance.  So, just run off that diving board and cannonball into the pool!

12.  How do you evaluate the success of your blog? What have been your most successful blog posts or series?
I don't.  I'll admit to a twinge of pride when The World mentions my blog in its weekly summary.  But, my blog simply is what it is.  It is successful if I let it be what it is.

I believe that my best series was the one I did on my trip to New Orleans.

13.  What do you wish you had done differently in your blogging?
Hmmm, nothing that I can think of.

14.  What other online tools do you use to promote your blog? (i.e. social networking sites, Twitter, social bookmarking tools, etc.)
I set up my blog to automatically post to my Facebook account.  I tell people about my blog on various web pages and other avenues.

15.  Do you use an Really Simple Syndication (RSS) feed? How many subscribers do you have?
I honestly have never even looked at that to figure it out.

16.  Do you track site traffic? How many unique visitors do you have per day (on average)?
No, I think I would only find that depressing!  And, I'm way too obsessive-compulsive, so I would waste too much time analyzing numbers.  Frankly, I am always pleasantly surprised when I find that anyone has spent any of their valuable time reading my ramblings.

17.  Do you find Unitarian Universalist Association resources helpful to you as a blogger? What additional resources could we provide to Unitarian Universalist bloggers?
Not really, although I use UUA resources for lots of other things.  I'm not really sure how the UUA could contribute to my blogging.  One possible idea might be for someone to come up with a weekly suggestion on a topic for UU bloggers to address.  Then the posts could be assembled, or even summarized in some way.  Such a resource might be really useful to somebody researching that topic.

18.  Please write any additional comments or suggestions.
Peter Bowden is the man, and has been enormously helpful to me on a number of occasions regarding all things technical.  And, if you read me blog, then please write/comment and let me know what you like, don't like, want to see more of, whatever!

One More Immigration Story

The United States is keeping two young members of my congregation from living in their home and being with their friends in worship. You see, one happened to be born in Italy, so when her visa ran out, she was forced to return and seek a new visa. Exile to a foreign land is costing this couple many thousands of dollars, months of separation from jobs and loved ones, and untold anxiety. And, in the end, their fate remains up in the air.

America has an immigration problem. The good news is that so many people willing to work and especially perform some of the toughest, menial tasks gladly sacrifice everything to come here. They face a frightening unknown, often toil under intolerable conditions, and suffer great deprivation. The bad news is that the terrible state of our administration of immigration leaves states like Arizona little choice but to pass absurd and unconstitutional laws in a misguided attempt to solve their own local problems.

Ancestors of every citizen of this nation were at one time immigrants. Whether your people migrated across the Bering Strait thousands of years ago, sailed across the Atlantic on the Mayflower, a slave ship, or a crowded passenger liner, every American has roots from other lands. They came here for the same reason people cross our borders today – for opportunities, for a chance to better themselves, for the hope that this country stands for.

I am no immigration attorney. But, a better way must exist to extend a welcoming hand to those willing to become contributing citizens and to expanding the legacy of the fantastic ethnic and cultural diversity of this land. And, there certainly must be a way to prevent the breaking up of families over bureaucratic details.

By the way, one more detail about this couple. They are both women. Although married (in Canada), our federal government refuses to grant the rights to same-sex married couples given to heterosexual couples. There is a word for this. Discrimination.

And there is another word for this. Wrong.

The Transient and the Permanent

I just learned that a small piece of my personal history was no more. The old South Hills movie theatre in Dormont has been demolished. Now, obviously, I am not the first middle-aged person to see his childhood movie house torn down, nor will I be the last. Nevertheless, I will mourn this passing and commemorate the place that the South Hills Theatre will always occupy in my heart.

Before being carved up into four ridiculously sized "cinemas," the South Hills Theatre was a cavernous place with a huge balcony. In the old days, the place had hosted all sorts of performances, such as organ concerts, before becoming predominately a movie house. But, I wouldn't know about the rest of the building because I sat in the same seat every time I visited.

It began in the summer of 1972 or 1973, when the theatre ran a promotion, showing a different classic film every night for $1.00 admission. My best friend Frank and I must have seen at least 30 movies that summer, mostly old black and white films like they would later show on AMC and Turner Classics. But, of course, this was before cable TV took over our leisure time. Frank and I would sit in the same two seats, about three or four rows from the front, on the right aisle. We often joked that we would someday buy those seats and have them bronzed in memorial of our loyalty.

Of course, summer came to an end as it always does. After high school, I found less reason and time to visit the South Hills. Like little jackie paper, I left my magic dragon behind and over time its scales fell off as well. I remember returning some years ago and feeling great sadness for its dilapidated condition. I suppose that the place (now renamed Cinema 4) actually died for me that day.

So, now the South Hills Theatre is irretrievably gone forever. Gone are those fantasies of hitting the lottery and buying the place on a lark. Gone are those dreams of reliving that wonderful summer of discovering a new classic every night in my personal seat. Like my youth, those wonderful times of learning to drive and eating Mineo's pizza with high school friends, live only in my memories.

But, while the bricks and mortar may no longer retain their solid configuration in the real world, the South Hills Theatre stands unmolested in my mind. My love of films engendered by that wonderful place lives on strong. My appreciation of classics stands strong against the wrecking balls of unimaginative writing and needless remakes. The body of the South Hills Theatre may be dead, but its soul lives on with every film I recommend to a young person who thinks that CGI can substitute for good acting. Rest in Peace, South Hills Theatre!

Behind the Clouds - A Flower Communion Service

Opening Words
from “The Rainy Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall…

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Time for All Ages

Following World War I and the establishment of an independent Czechoslovakia, Norbert Ĉapek founded a Unitarian congregation in Prague called the Liberal Religious Fellowship. He introduced the Flower Festival service on June 4, 1923 as a symbolic ritual to unite people in the new congregation. The traditional Christian communion service was unacceptable to many who had joined the new fellowship after leaving the Catholic church. Ĉapek decided to utilize the native beauty of the land to create a ritual unique to the new religious body.

People were asked to bring a flower of their choice to church and to place them in large vases at the entrance. During the worship service, Ĉapek consecrated the collected flowers. Afterwards, people returned to the vases and took a different flower home with them. It was such a success that it was held yearly just before the summer recess of the church. His fellowship grew into the largest Unitarian congregation in the world, with a membership of almost 3,400 by 1932.

With the outbreak of World War II, Ĉapek chose to remain in Europe, despite invitations to come to America. He delivered a series of sermons on the topic of freedom and justice that got the attention of Nazi authorities. In March 1941, the Gestapo broke into Ĉapek’s apartment, confiscated his books and sermons, and arrested him and his 29-year-old daughter, Zora. Ĉapek was charged with listening to BBC broadcasts (a capital offense) and with treason. The Nazis cited several of his sermons as evidence. A year later, he and his daughter were found guilty.

The court found Ĉapek innocent of the treason charge and recommended that, given his age, the year served in prison be counted toward his jail time. The Gestapo, however, ignored the court's recommendation, sending Ĉapek to Dachau and Zora to forced labor in Germany. Ĉapek's name appears among a list of prisoners sent on an invalid transport on October 12, 1942 to Hartheim Castle, near Linz, Austria, where he died from poison gas.

Reflection Reading
from Norbert Ĉapek’s 1927 sermon “Salvation”

This relying on help from outside instead of upon ourselves flows from the doctrine of salvation which various churches still impose on us…The Catholic Church…and many varieties of…evangelical churches teach us to look for salvation from some supernatural source and think it blasphemous when someone feels he must seek salvation through his own moral effort.

Jesus did not have the superstitious belief that an angry God required a sacrifice to reconcile himself with mankind because of Adam’s sin. We owe [that belief] to the apostle Paul, whereas Jesus’ teaching about salvation is expressed in the parable of the prodigal son…

Christian people were much harmed by the notion of the necessity of pacifying God’s anger through the blood sacrifice of Jesus…Jesus’ gospel was meant for the poor, the oppressed, the unjustly handicapped, and all other unfortunate people.

The German reformers, Luther and Calvin, tore the heart out of Jesus’ gospel and instead inserted the dogma about Jesus’ sacrifice for the atonement of sins…The[ir] religion…was suitable for a feudal social system, but how much did it do for the oppressed, the poor, and the enslaved people?

Salvation cannot come from something or someone outside ourselves… Salvation comes only through what a person achieves through his own effort and ability.

Sermon – Behind the Clouds

Once upon a time, in a not-so-magical kingdom, there was an ogre who owned a factory. Now, as befitted his natural demeanor, the ogre was very cruel to the factory workers. He would beat them regularly, and if a worker ever gave him cause for displeasure, the ogre would cast him out of the factory forever. In fact, it sometimes seemed that the ogre enjoyed mistreating his workers more than actually running the factory effectively.

There was a man who worked for the ogre. The man worked behind a tiny desk helping the ogre keep track of production in the factory and utilizing resources most efficiently. The ogre was terrible at counting, and so needed the man’s skills. But, that did not stop the ogre from tormenting him mercilessly. And the man could not complain because he needed the work to support his family. Over time, the man learned ways to please the ogre and to keep the ogre from getting too mad at him.

The workers in the factory toiled for years under the cloud of the ogre’s wrath. The workers were talented and committed to their craft, but the ogre took any joy they might have felt out of the work. It seemed that the factory always lay in darkness – not the black of night, but the murkiness of a sunless day.

Sadly, this all-too-real fairy tale is one with which each of us can likely identify. In school, at work, even at home, it sometimes seems that there are people whose sole purpose in life is to cause others suffering. We endure this suffering out of love, or duty, or obligation, or simply out of habit. And we pay a toll for our efforts, whether we realize it or not.

Thankfully, few of us will ever know the hardship possible under the fist of a tyrant. Oh, we may complain about our taxes, incompetent legislators, or soulless government bureaucracies. If you are non-White, a woman, gay, or a member of other oppressed minorities in our country, you probably have experienced abridgements of your rights, or prejudice at the hands and from the lips of bigots with the ability to affect your life and livelihood.

But, few Americans can even begin to comprehend genocide – police and soldiers dragging our neighbors into trucks and trains. Most of us will never experience living under the cloud of a dictator, where the sun is blocked not only by repressive rule, but by the ashes of people targeted as threats to those in control.

And yet, that is what Norbert Ĉapek faced when his beloved Czechoslovakia was consumed by Hitler’s power play with the Allies. At the global poker table, we blinked and in September 1938, the Nazis raked in the pot – more than one-third of Czechoslovakia. Seven months later, the Nazis occupied the remainder of the country.

As a Unitarian minister, Ĉapek would have been unquestionably suspect in their eyes. The Gestapo regularly attended his Sunday morning and Tuesday evening worship services. But, Ĉapek carefully measured his message and tone to one that might irritate, but not inflame the German authorities. In June 1940, Ĉapek was summoned to Gestapo headquarters, interviewed, and released. Like the man in our fairy tale, Ĉapek learned the craft of survival under the ogre.

In the ensuing months, Nazi rule over Czechoslovakia worsened. Jews were spirited away; school children were photographed and their racial characteristics measured. Ĉapek maintained his ministry and his church continued to grow.

Then, on March 28, 1941, five men in plain clothes burst into his apartment. Over four hours, they ransacked his belongings, taking hundreds of sermons and lectures, manuscripts and letters, his typewriter, and the radio given to him on his 70th birthday by his congregation. They arrested Ĉapek and his youngest daughter, and led them away from the home they would never see again.

Now, often in stories like the one I told earlier, a shining knight comes along. He slays the ogre, brings light to the factory, and frees the workers. But, in our all-too-real world, ogres are much too smart and cunning to fall victim of the knight’s lance. They convince the knight that fighting will entail a terrible cost and that the outcome may be worse than allowing the status quo to continue.

Even more often, the ogre persuades the knight that keeping his armor shiny requires lots of money and that new weapons are constantly needed to maintain the knight’s power. In time, the knight comes to rely on the ogre and ceases to hear the cries of the workers in the factory. The armor tarnishes and the clouds thicken.

Other times in our stories of fantasy, a fairy godmother flits down, wand in hand, to grant us our fondest desires by taking us from the drudgery of the factory to the magnificent castle. With a simple wave of her hand, she promises immediate gratification. With no effort on our part, she offers us the winning lottery ticket of life. But, in the world of non-fiction, the person promising to fulfill your wishes is a con artist at best, and at worst a predator poised to rob you of your very soul.

Am I recommending that we banish fairy tales from our children’s bedside? Would I relegate Cinderella to her ash heap and leave Camelot unimagined? No. Dreams are healthy things and the sign of an imaginative and optimistic mind. Envisioning a better future beyond today and tomorrow, or even beyond our own lives sets us apart from other species on this planet. Dreaming may sometimes lead us down frivolous paths, but dreams plant the seeds of great accomplishment and happiness.

There exist many people out there, however, who prey on our dreams to turn a profit without any real concern for our well being. Others pollute the air with their clouds of fear and despair to keep us sedated and inactive. The clouds we live under obscure from us the worlds of the possible, the lands of growth and change, the vistas of our dreams.

So, what happened to the man in the factory? Over the years, he learned not just survival under the ogre’s reign, but how to find joy in other parts of his life beyond the factory. He found love in his children and family. He found fulfillment serving his community and causes that helped other workers. And, he found peace and even moments of ecstasy in his house of worship. He began to realize that the factory, while a significant part of his life, did not define him as a person. Most important, he began to imagine what lie behind the clouds surrounding the factory.

These were not the passive dreams of one waiting to be rescued, or the unfulfilled wishes of one wiling away free time on idle pursuits. His dreams were not the wispy stuff of sleep or the intangible unreality of wonder. His dreams were solid things, built brick-by-brick through hard work and commitment. His dreams became a stairway of sacrifice, cutting through the clouds of the factory and extending beyond the reach of the ogre’s fickle anger.

And when the man ascended the structure he had built and climbed through the clouds, what did he find? He found what Norbert Ĉapek found. He saw in the bright light of day countless flowers of every conceivable color decorating the countryside. He saw the marvelous diversity of living things and the remarkable individuality we share that makes life interesting.

He felt an enormous burden lifted from his body. Gone was the pressure of the constant criticism and deriding doubt. But, also missing were the shame and the guilt from within; the resentment and even hatred that had festered and grown against the ogre. Vanished were those debilitating emotions that had distracted the man with their false hopes of self-satisfaction and their sugar-coated rationalizations of self-righteousness.

Behind the clouds, the man heard the calling of his life. Gone were the allure of salary and financial security. Banished were the accolades of double talk and the bromides of bureaucracy. He heard clearly his calling to become the person life had prepared him to be.
Twelve years before his arrest and imprisonment, Capek had prepared himself spiritually, oddly predicting the hardships he now faced, when he wrote:

How can a person be ready to undergo difficult trials? He must ask himself: “What is mine and what is not mine?” Suppose I am to be imprisoned; must I also then lament and be discouraged? Suppose I am to be exiled; is there anyone able to prevent my going peacefully with a smile, good humor, and my head held high? “We will put you in chains!” “Ah, dear friends, the chains you mean to put upon my legs may restrain me but no chains can restrain my will or my spirit.”…The result is a will that is very disciplined; no force on earth can make it do what it doesn’t want to do. Cleanse your own heart and put out of your mind pain and envy, ill will and passions you can’t control; then no one will be able to force you to do their will. You will be free as the west wind.

Throughout Ĉapek’s incarceration, he continued writing hymns. In Dachau, he was assigned to the “clergy hut” and ministered to other prisoners. A Catholic priest wrote to Ĉapek’s daughter: “Your papa…always was in a good mood and was able to encourage all the people around him, to bring them out of their bad situations…I cannot understand it in any other way than there was in it a higher power. “ Another prisoner told Ĉapek’s biographer, “If it hadn’t been for Ĉapek, I probably wouldn’t be alive now, nor would others who survived.”

No, thankfully we are unlikely to face the experience of Norbert Ĉapek. But, we can learn from his life and find inspiration in his work. The flowers we celebrate today represent not simply life, but the life that lifts us behind the clouds to the land of light. We can pull from his example the energy to strive, the commitment to sacrifice, and the courage to endure. Ĉapek saw these fragile representatives of nature as the heart of his congregation’s communion. And, while flowers may sometimes be crushed by the ogres of the world, flowers will always endure; flowers will always reach through the clouds until they find the light; the light of dreams, the light of love.

Closing Words

Norbert Ĉapek wrote these words just before his death:

It is worthwhile to live and fight courageously for sacred ideals. Oh, blow, you evil winds, into my body's fire. My soul, you'll never unravel. Even though disappointed a thousand times or fallen in the fight, and everything worthless seem, I have lived amidst eternity. Be grateful, my soul. My life was worth living. The one who was pressed from all sides but remained victorious in spirit is welcomed into the choir of heroes.