First Parish Bedford UU

Take Joy
A sermon preached by Rev. Diane Teichert
First Parish in Bedford – Unitarian Universalist
March 1, 2009

    I'm glad you enjoyed this morning's reading by Roald Dahl (from The Vicar of Nibbleswicke)!

    The aspiring vicar, Robert Lee, was able to "gratify his ambition to go into training for the ministry" because he had mastered his dyslexia to the point that his writing and reading were up to the challenge.

    In my preparation for ministry, I did not have such a major challenge as the poor Reverend Lee. But I was told early on, for my own good as well as any congregations I might serve in the future, that I ought to "lighten up." 

    The prospect of finding more joy in daily life sounded good to me! So, I endeavored to lighten up… without making it a serious project!

    There is a shallow shelf at the top of the window over our kitchen sink at home. I began placing humorous things on that ledge, to give me a daily reminder to "lighten up." Some, such as this zany monster finger puppet and these colorful cloth turtles were gifts. And others are souvenirs I purchased because they made me smile: this funny monk from the gift shop at the monastery where I once went on a five-day silent retreat and these cute frogs from the Boston Garden Show. And, a droll little elf made for me by a teen in my former congregation sits right in front of my computer monitor.

    Around that time, which was fifteen or nearly twenty years ago, our family went to visit another family with whom we are still close though our respective nests are now empty. Their kids are the same ages as ours, so that our get-togethers were occasions to which everyone looked forward:  the kids would go off to play and the adults could talk for long periods without interruption, even  preparing dinner, which then all eight of us would sit down to enjoy. Such was expected that evening.

    As we came up the stairs to our friends' second floor apartment, I noticed a little yellow post-it note on the wall in the foyer up ahead. It said, "Take Joy" in my friend Jan's handwriting. When we dropped our coats on our friends' bed, I saw another post-it note on the mirror over their dresser:  "Take Joy." Throughout the evening, I spotted several other post-it-notes, all saying the same thing.

    I wondered to myself, was my long-time friend Jan trying to "lighten up" too?  Was she too hoping to find more joy in daily life? I was amazed to think that, unbeknownst to the other, we each were taking on the same challenge in our lives.

    It wasn't until we were putting on our coats to leave that I had a chance to take Jan aside and ask her about the post-it notes.

    She looked at me quizzically. "Oh, those!" she exclaimed. "We're leaving on vacation tomorrow as you know and I want to be sure to remember to take Joy to our downstairs neighbors, who are going to take care of her while we're gone."

    Joy was their hamster! 

    We both had a good laugh when I told her what I'd been thinking about her notes!

    The ability to laugh at ourselves must be either the prerequisite for spiritual growth or its product, or probably it's both. As everyone knows, there is no such thing as perfection. The very best we can hope to ever be is perfectly imperfect.

    Even the word "utopia" which connotes the idea of an "ideal place," actually comes from two Greek words, one for "not" and the other for "place." Utopia, therefore, is no-place, nowhere, not existent, impossible!

    And, likewise, we humans just have to settle for being "good enough" because our perfection is not possible. So it is with our congregations, too-- never perfect, no way, not no how!

    So it was with our congregational meeting last Sunday—it wasn't perfect, but a healthy organization does just what ours has done since:  the leadership reconnoiters and comes up with a new and better, but not perfect, plan for a follow-up meeting two weeks from today.

    Anyway, the impossibility of both utopia and perfections is precisely why a certain passage in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount bothered me in the past. Jesus is recorded as saying, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect." (Mt 5:48)  Well, I felt most people in my church growing up were not perfect, and I wasn't at all sure that my perfection was possible, or even desirable! No doubt, being taught from an early age to aspire to perfection contributed to my seriousness!

    However, when I was twenty, I spent two months living as a volunteer at the interracial Koinonia Community in southern Georgia, the very place the tenth graders of First Parish visited during February school vacation week, as they reported at this morning's Lyceum. It was founded by a Biblical scholar, Clarence Jordan, and his translation of that problematic verse about being perfect works far better for me. He went back to the Greek and translated some of the Christian Scriptures into the vernacular of the American South, which he published with the name Cotton Patch Gospel.

    His alternative translation of the passage that troubled me, the one about trying to be perfect, is based on the fact that the Greek word teleos has complex meanings including not only "perfected," but also "complete, mature, whole."

    So, Jordan's translation reads, "Now you, y'all must be mature, as your spiritual Father is mature."       

    That I like! Maturity is worthy of our striving, but not perfection!

    I do not mean that we should accept ourselves as "second rate" just because perfection is impossible. Nor does it mean we should be self-centered, failing to each do our part to make our world a more just and peaceful world.

    Mature people strive for excellence and they look out for others, too. Mature people do not expect perfection of themselves nor do they expect utopia of their family, friends, congregation, community or nation.

    The Buddhist tradition teaches to let go of expectations and attachments. It teaches that we suffer because of our attachments. Anyone who has ever experienced disappointment knows that it's painful to expect something—a job, a place to live, good health, happy children—and then not get it.

    Buddhism teaches ways (such as meditation and yoga) of centering ourselves into the present moment, so that regrets about the past and hopes for the future recede from our awareness and instead our attention is on the present.

    However, when I am facing a disappointment, I find myself first reaching out to friends and family for support. "Lean On Me," as we just sang, is all about that. Then I look within for the strength to face the disappointment.

    How do you deal with disappointment?

    If I get a dose of a loved one's care and concern, then I can take a solitary walk or bike ride or do sitting meditation or write in my journal. After that I may recover from the pain of disappointment, at least for a while, by letting go of my attachment to whatever expectation it was that did not get realized. And, after that I can re-focus myself on a new path or goal ahead, though with a really big disappointment, the process likely needs to be repeated.

    How do you deal with disappointment?

    The Persian poet Rumi, said that we should actively welcome disappointment. As we've heard here before, he wrote

This being human is a guest house

every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty it of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

    Once I visited the home of a parishioner, an elder who was losing more and more physical abilities due to a chronic disease and was requiring more and more help. She told me she was feeling discouraged though, and I sensed a gray bleakness about her, so I asked her how she had faced discouragement in the past. She said she hadn't needed to.

    But, then one of her grown children who happened to be present during my visit spoke up to remind her, "Mom, you faced lots of discouragement in the past! You did it by being brave for us kids. I remember. But now we are all grown up adults who are by no means perfect. Now we are disappointing to you, Mom, and so maybe you feel you have no one to be brave for."

    Somehow, she needs to be brave for herself.

    I told her about Rumi's advice to be like a guesthouse and welcome with gratitude whatever comes. She was quiet for a moment and I grew uneasy. Did she take offense? Did she feel I was minimizing her problems?

    And then she retorted, "What if someone lived in Israel or Palestine and their small child was killed by a bomb, should they welcome it?" It was my time to be quiet for a moment.

    "No," I finally said. "In that moment, they would feel horror, grief, and anger—no one would welcome it, you are right."

     But," I went on, "I think that what Rumi is saying is that, to live a complete, mature, whole life, eventually we must accept even the most horrific thing that befalls us, and see something good that came of it, make something good out of it, do something with our outrage, or at least learn and grow in response to it."

    "That's what I hate about Unitarian Universalism!"

    She smiled and we both laughed, the tension released.

    I reminded her of an inspiring couple in the congregation whose child had died and how they grieved but also turned their sorrow into energy to raising money for a cure to the kind of cancer that killed him.    

    Here in Bedford, many of you know, we have Alma and Brian Hart whose son was killed in Iraq, and how they turned their sorrow and their outrage at the lack of adequate armor for the Army's Humvees into a successful campaign to get Congress to do something about it, and how they continue their efforts even now—Brian designing a robot to dismantle Improvised Explosive Devices/IED's and Alma speaking at conferences, including the one we held here last November, about ministering to the spiritual needs of returning veterans.

    We cannot predict the future: you do not know if you will face horrific things in your personal life. But we all do know that outrageous things go on in the public sphere that will not end unless people express outrage.

    And we know that few changes are won easily, so lightening up with a little humor and finding joy in the small wins along the way are good ways to sustain our energy for the long-haul.

    We do not know if we will face horrific things or not, but we surely know that we will face disappointments--as individuals, congregations, communities, as a nation, as people of the only earth we have. We will indeed sometimes disappoint ourselves and others, hopefully not horrifically so. We will indeed need to make amends for our shortcomings.

    What I am saying today is that we imperfect humans ……will become more whole, mature and complete if we cultivate the ability to express our outrage when it's called for and to accept our perfect imperfection with a little humor…

    Don't forget, all the while:  Take Joy!