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Bringing Out the Best in Me
October 3, 2010

Opening Words:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon:
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope
where there is darkness, light
where there is sadness, joy
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
or it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

SERMON: Bringing Out the Best in Me

During Jim Francek’s summer service, Pat Francek read these words by Oriah Mountain Dreamer: "What if the question is not why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be, but why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am?" It was one of those moments in church that stops time, where the service goes forward, but I am still thinking about the words just spoken. Why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be? Why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am? Both seemed like really important questions, personal questions, but also deeply theological and spiritual questions.

I have been keeping an annual journal during the Jewish High Holidays since 1980. Every year, on either Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, sometimes both, I take myself to a quiet place to review the previous year, take a personal accounting of my joys and sorrows, accomplishments and failures. I started the journal when I was 26. Each year, I begin this process as the Bible says “In the beginning,” by reviewing the years gone by. I watch my life as a sexologist, my first calls to Unitarian Universalism, my deciding to have a child, being pregnant, becoming a mom, my move to ministry emerge through these thirty years. Each year, I end by writing commitments to myself for the coming year and asking forgiveness.

Here’s part of what I wrote in 1983: Be less controlling. Be a better sister, friend, partner. Relax more. Play more. Exercise. Eat well. Lose weight.

Here’s what I wrote in 1998: Lose weight. Exercise 4 to 5 times a week. Develop a regular spiritual practice. Be more patient. Let go.

Here’s what I wrote a few weeks ago: Stretch daily. Meditate daily. Exercise 3 to 5 times a week. Read more. Maintain weight loss. Play more. Take one day off a week. Bless more, control less.

A little more sophisticated perhaps, but remarkably similar, huh? I’m guessing a number of you would have similar lists, similar issues that you have been hoping you’d outgrow, move on from. Maybe in some of us they are more dire- Stop using drugs. Stop drinking. Stop gambling. Martin Buber wrote that humans are the “promise making, promise breaking, promise renewing animal.”

The poet asks, "Why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be? I know that my days go better when I mediate first thing in the morning, but often I feel too rushed to do so. I know that I feel better when I exercise regularly, but I often get out of the habit. During Lent this past year, I took up a practice of reading a book on theology each night after dinner, and I really benefited from doing it, but I’ve largely stopped. I know that the people around me want me to bless more, control less. I know that sometimes I am short with others, impatient with them or myself, cranky. Ralph will sometimes say to me in the middle of a disagreement when I am being less than loving in my tone, “Can the minister come out now?”

Because there is something about ministry that calls me to my better self. I experience it directly when I am wearing my clerical collar for a public event, lobbying day, or protest. I used to wear my collar frequently when I went to meetings in D.C., to signal that I was talking to Congressional staffs or organizations as a religious leader. I find myself nicer, more patient, more likely to offer help, to smile, and greet others when I am wearing the collar. It’s hard to get upset at the person behind the ticket counter when you are dressed this way, a symbol in many ways of faith in general. People treat me differently as well: people who I presume are Catholic often do double takes, not accustomed to seeing women in what they associate as male priest clothes. A female TSA officer couldn’t stop apologizing as she patted me down, “Pastor, I’m so sorry I have to do this…” And people often stop and ask me for help, assuming that I will listen. And I do.

As an aside, I think someone of you may remember why I stopped wearing my collar on airplanes. As I’ve shared before, I don’t do well in turbulence, and on a plane trip about two years ago, I had my eyes shut and was praying hard as we bounced around the sky. I felt the person next to me, tug on my shirt. I looked up from my prayers. “Pastor,” he said, “You’re freaking the rest of us out.”

But, I kind of miss that visual opportunity to remind myself to bring the best of me to my interactions. I think as people, we are always looking for ways to be better in the world. The Reverend John Buehrens, in his new book “A House for Hope: The Promise of Progressive Religion in the 21^st Century”, co-authored with Rev. Rebecca Parker, writes, “We are created in the context of relationships, promises, commitments. We either break them, make new ones, modify them, or renew then. ..We are covenantal by nature…and all authentic covenants are created, sustained, and renewed in authentic hope.”

The traditional Christian answer to the poet’s question “why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be?” is that we are inherently sinful, that because of the Fall in the Garden of Eden, we all deviate from God’s original plan for us. In a story that I first heard in Divinity School, President Calvin Coolidge went to church alone one Sunday when Mrs. Coolidge was home ill. When he came home, she asked, “What was the sermon about?” “Sin,” said the terse President. She persisted, “But what did the minister say about it?” He answered, “He was against it.”

Part of the traditional answer to sin in many Christian churches is to follow the Ten Commandments, despite the fact that most Americans can’t name more than five of them. A survey by the Pew Center for Religion and Public Life that came out last week found that although the majority of Americans come from a Christian faith and almost 4 in ten say they read the Bible regularly, half believe that the Golden Rule, do onto others as you have them do on to you, is part of the Ten Commandments. It is not. Perhaps it’s not surprising that in another poll ten percent of Americans thought that Joan of Arc was Noah’s wife!

The Ten Commandments, found in the book of Exodus and Deuteronomy, are actually 16 verses that different faiths combine in different ways to come out to ten. Protestants, Roman Catholics, and Jews have different ways of combining them. Basically though, regardless of version, the Ten Commandments laid out broad principles for ancient Israel’s community life in a series of “Thou Shalt Not’s.” Interestingly, only one of the ten commandments, Honor Thy Father and Mother, is written as a proactive statement of behavior. The first three of the Commandments are about worshipping God: not to have other gods before me, no graven images, not to swear falsely using the name of God…the others are about personal conduct: not to work on the Sabbath, not to kill, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, or covet your neighbor’s house, his slave, his ox or his ass, or anything that is your neighbors. Little wonder that despite our cultural attachment to the idea of the Ten Commandments, not many people can name them and few could claim that they obey all of them – and that even the most ardent supporters of their display would distance themselves from the idea that there are other gods besides God or that slavery was okay if not coveted.

It’s easy for us as Unitarian Universalists to dismiss or indeed resist those who would enshrine the Ten Commandments; after all, we are a religion without a creed and surely our morality is more sophisticated than prescriptions of what we are not to do. And we clearly understand why they should not be posted in schools or court houses, where they would privilege some religions over others.

But, in some ways, the Unitarian Universalist Principles and Purposes serve a similar function for us; they are in many ways a shared set of belief statements and a covenant about how we will be together. But, you may not recognize them by those words. Last week, we voted to include the Principles at the end of our mission statement. You may be surprised to find out that the Principles and Purposes were only approved in their current form 25 years ago, and that our own Denny Davidoff had a major role in getting them passed. I hope someday she’ll tell us that story herself.

But, I wonder if we all know what they are. I confess I often refer to them INCORRECTLY as the Principles and PRACTICES, because of their behavioral implications, but they are the principles and purposes. Like Christians and the Ten Commandments, I’m guessing that most of us can’t remember or name all of them. I think most Unitarian Universalists, indeed most UU ministers, can name only the 1st and 7^th Principle: We affirm and promote the “inherent dignity and worth of every person” and “respect the interdependent web of all existence of which we are apart.” Without opening your hymnal, let’s see if we can list the others:

2) justice, equity and compassion in human relations

3) acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth

4) free and responsible search for truth and meaning

5) right of conscience and the use of the democratic process

6) the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all

Perhaps we should all make a commitment – including me – to memorize them.

Embedded in the words and wisdom of the Principles and purposes are many of the answers to the type of person we most want to be: just, compassionate, accepting, searching for truth and meaning, moral, and committed to peace, liberty, and justice for all.

For many people, our most challenging Principle is our affirmation of the inherent dignity and worth of every person. We understand that as our call to reach out to the most vulnerable, the most marginalized among us, and it stands behind the Unitarian Universalist Associations’ commitments to work to affirm of the rights of immigrants, people of other faiths, and LGBT persons.

This week, our hearts broke as we heard or read the story of Tyler Clementi’s suicide at Rutger’s University because of his roommate’s decision to film and then distribute a tape on the Internet of Tyler kissing a boy in their room. Surely we know that a tape of Tyler kissing a girl would probably never have been made, not have been circulated. We hurt for Tyler and his family and a world where gay teens are still being driven to kill themselves rather than proudly affirm who they are. We understand that sexual diversity is part of creation or God’s blessing to us, and that all people have dignity and worth.

But can I extend that to his roommate and his friend who posted the tape in the first place? Where is our compassion and affirmation for those who commit hate crimes, who advocate intolerance or worse, violence, who commit terrorist acts? The Unitarian Universalist opposition to the death penalty grows out of our 1^st Principle…but how do we extend that here in Connecticut to the men who so randomly and violently killed the Cheshire Dr’s wife and children?

And I’m reminded that these issues don’t have to be quite so stark. A few years ago, I preached a sexuality sermon in Schenectady, New York. I talked about our faith’s commitment to sexuality education, reproductive justice, and LGBT full inclusion. A woman came up to me in the coffee hour. “I really disagreed with something you said,” she told me. “I’m not surprised”, I answered. “I know I talk about controversial things. Which part did you disagree with?” She said, “That part about love your neighbor as yourself and the dignity and worth of all people.” I answered, “Oh, you mean like how does that extend to people like terrorists or Hitler?” She looked at me, puzzled. “No, I mean people right here. People I don’t like very much, who sit on committees with me, they don’t deserve my love or respect.” I thought to myself, the hardest part of loving your neighbor as yourself, may be loving yourself first.

Which brings me back to the poet’s questions: Why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be? Why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am? Part of that answer comes from our own family histories, our own time in childhood when we didn’t receive unconditional love, from our own histories of brokenness. How easy it is in my life for me to become once again the toddler left to cry it out on her own as Dr. Spock then advised parents or the 7 year old bullied by her classmates with the Hate Debbi Haffner club. I have finally come to accept that I will never fully put away parts of me that still cry out for acceptance and approval, even as I understand them better each year. I think it is important to accept that all of us have a shadow side, in psychodynamic terms an id that we need to acknowledge and own.

Part of it is our own fears- fear of the unknown, fear that we are not good enough, fear of failing. I have so many conversations with people in jobs they hate, relationships that don’t fulfill them, but they are afraid of the next step.

The responsive reading said it well, “it takes an act of will to make a turn. It means breaking with old habits. It means admitting that we have been wrong, and this is never easy. It means losing face. It means starting all over again; and this is always painful. It means saying, I’m sorry.”

Saying I’m sorry. It’s not just hard for two year olds, though surely all of us who have been parents or grandparents know that there is nothing harder than asking a preschooler to say I’m sorry. The Lord’s Prayer most importantly for me says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” When I am not my best self with regard to others, I need to say, “I’m sorry.” Sorry for being rude, for being cross, for not treating you as I wish to be treated myself. My friend Dr. Bob Selverstone has a sign in his couple’s counseling office, “Talk to me like I am somebody you love.” As I’ll talk about in my Odyssey classes starting next week, the most frequent problems in marriages and other long term relationships are that people who once chose to love each other forever start criticizing each other, become defensive, and treat each other with contempt. The antidotes we’ll discuss in that class are learning to complain without blame, take responsibility, and build a culture of appreciation. I hope some of you will decide to sign up on the list in the foyer.

And, I also think we need to practice self forgiveness. As Unitarian Universalists, we ask not so much that God will forgive us, but that we can forgive ourselves. The Dalai Llama, who I follow on Twitter, sends out almost a daily reminder that we must have compassion for ourselves and compassion for others to bring about peace in the world.

And part of it lies in committing ourselves to self care – taking the time, making the time to take care of ourselves. I am a better person, wife, mother, colleague, minister when I take the time to eat well, meditate, exercise, and I need to remind myself that that allowing myself to burn out neither serves my ministry or me. Parker Palmer, writing about his own journey, said, “Self-care is never a selfish act -- it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give it the care it requires, we do so not only for ourselves but for the many others whose lives we touch.”

Accepting who we are and where we come from. Saying I’m sorry, asking for forgiveness. Practicing self care. Having compassion for everyone we meet, as Frank regularly reminds me, including having compassion for ourselves.

Those are part of my answers to the questions. You will have others. I hope you’ll share them. I still sense that for me there are other answers to these questions, that they are indeed lifelong questions.

And that they are questions we can struggle with together in community, calling each other to be our best selves together. Rebecca Parker writes in “A House for Hope”: “life is protected and saved by those who embody presence, wisdom, resistance, gratitude and humility. These are the gifts people can bring to one another and can foster through long participation and practice as members of religious communities devoted to saving and protecting life, rooted in rituals of praise and thanksgiving.” May together we become the persons we really want to be, the persons we know we are.

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