Life Incarnate
Sermon given at Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
November 1, 2015
by Rev. Craig M. Nowak
“Sometime when the river is ice, ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life.” These words from William Stafford’s poem have both haunted and inspired me since I first encountered them in the book, “Let Your Life Speak” by the Quaker teacher, Parker Palmer. A minister recommended Palmer’s book when I came to her to talk about my calling to ministry. Up until that point in my life I had never really imagined, let alone, asked myself if the life I was living could be anything other than mine. I don’t think many of us do.
I have always been someone, for better or worse, who feels things deeply, which is another way of saying, I don’t have a really good poker face. I was reminded of this recently when a couple of you mentioned sensing a certain sadness in my presence in worship a service or two back. I appreciate you sharing that observation with me because it helped nudge me toward articulating more fully what I have thus far only alluded to during joys and concerns or in prayer. Though I have to say, I feel my thoughts this morning are not as refined as I generally prefer before I share them in a sermon.
The fact is, I have been disturbed, saddened and angered, quite frankly, by the rash of shootings that have occurred at schools and other public spaces around the country of late. These events have left me grasping for words, let alone ideas for any meaningful response. Perhaps you have felt a similar sense of helplessness.
As I have read or listened to the news coverage of these events I can’t help but think, ”the river is ice.” Nationally...globally, our collective soul seems increasingly stone cold and it hurts. In the face of the myriad challenges we face, whether it be violence, climate change, social and economic inequality and oppression, political leaders, activists, and various interest groups offer little more than predictable knee-jerk proclamations as they dig their heels in to prepare for the ensuing propaganda war.
Few, if any, take these moments as an opportunity to ask mistakes we’ve made let alone wonder whether the life we’re now living is truly ours as individuals, as a nation, or more vitally, as a global community. The pain of our age suggests we have strayed, if not flat out rejected, the life we’re called to as human beings. Collectively, we have a bizarre aversion to admitting our mistakes. Which means we don’t often recognize them, thus rarely do we learn from the past, our own immediate past and the more distance one of those who came before us and have similarly veered off the nobler path of a called life.
To find our way back will require significant change from the way we currently understand and approach life. The hope and potential for that change to occur exists right now. The agony of our age is awakening many.
People who study the sociology of religion have observed a growing trend that shows religious affiliation and church membership in America in decline. This trend has been observed across the theological spectrum with only a handful of denominations showing growth or at least holding steady in terms of membership. Unitarian Universalism is among the few religious groups more or less holding steady. Factors contributing to this decline include shifting demographics and the way our lives are structured today as well as the dominance of the Religious Right as the face...and I have to say this...the ugly face... of religion in America for decades.
Interestingly, this overall decline in religious affiliation is not coinciding with a similar decline in religious or spiritual interest. Indeed, research suggests people are as spiritually hungry as they have ever been, perhaps even more so. For Unitarian Universalists this presents both an opportunity and a challenge.
Spiritual hunger or longing, such as that so poetically articulated in our first reading...the search for “the words that come before words...that can’t be found by thought” is a manifestation of our human intuition about life, not merely our own individual life, but life itself.
Spiritual hunger is the pang of knowing that there is a dimension of life deeper, beyond or behind what we perceive through our ordinary senses and capacity to reason. It leads us to seek spiritual nourishment. Beliefs, rituals, relationships that help us transcend the boundary of our finite selves, and “Hold”, as William Blake wrote, “Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.”
This hunger is so pervasive, author and clergywoman, Barbara Brown Taylor has called our current age a time of famine. What is interesting about Taylor’s observation is that this famine exists in a time of unprecedented consumer choice and accessibility to products, religious and secular, that promise, directly and indirectly to satisfy us mind, body and soul. The famine of our age then is not about quantity, it is about quality. In this age of gnawing spiritual hunger junk diets abound. What is in short supply is authentic, trustworthy nourishment. Words, practices, experiences that slowly fill us, take time to digest, and help us grow.
To feed the spiritually hungry in ways that are also nourishing is the opportunity before us.
The challenge before us is how.
For this we return to William Stafford’s poem, Ask Me. Here the poet invites us to pause, to take time to notice, particularly when the river is ice...when we’re feeling stuck, rigid, cold. He asks us to be honest...how’d we get like this...what mistakes have we made and before we have a chance let our mind latch onto a litany of useless personal failures and shaming, he tells us how to recognize the mistakes that matter...the ones, if we allow them, that can lead us home... “ask me, he says, “whether what I have done is my life.”
Although this line is often read as a means of reflecting on and discerning one’s individual life calling, it is crucial we understand that our individual calling is inseparable from a broader, more universal calling, that of life itself: The “river flowin’ in our souls.” The poet, when he asks whether what he has done is his life, is reminding us that our individual calling is not simply a self-directed, self focused, for me only endeavor, but linked to a larger, collective calling...to embody the transcendent, the source of being, through our finite lives in service to others...Life incarnate.
Perhaps the best known example in the Western World, of life incarnate, of a person who embodied the transcendent is the person of Jesus. He endures across the ages because the accounts of his life paint a portrait of a man whose way of being in the world manifest the ineffable...”the words that come before words...the ones that hold the beginning of the world.” Because of this some came to see him as the son of God while other came to see him as pointing the way toward embodiment..challenging us to ask whether what we’ve done is our life.
For others, the Dalai Lama or Mother Theresa are examples of life incarnate. I cannot argue that all them are not supreme examples and people from whom we can learn a great deal about what life incarnate looks like. Yet life incarnate is not mere imitation of these famous figures, it is not about living their finite lives in our finite bodies. Rather, when Jesus or any spiritual teacher says to go and do likewise, they are encouraging and empowering us to embody the transcendent through our own unique finite life in our own day and age.
I want to be clear, I’m not talking about striving for perfection or achieving some unattainable standard of spiritual maturity. In fact, life incarnate is not about striving or achieving, but doing by learning to be.
An example: When I was Intern Minister in Concord, I led several workshops on the issue of immigration. There was one woman, let’s call her Joan, who came to every workshop faithfully. One day Joan came to me and said, “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.” I asked her to say more. She went on to explain that despite all the workshops and discussions she still felt like she wasn’t where the others in the group were on this issue. She added, “I care very deeply about this and the people who are suffering, but I still have a lot of questions, I feel like I’m not where I should be on this.”
I smiled, assure her there was nothing wrong with her and thanked her for her honesty. We then talked about the meaning and importance of being where she was at that moment rather than striving or pretending to be where she thought she “should” be out of anxiety. This woman was, to my mind, embodying the transcendent.
Yes, she struggled with and expressed her concerns as an individual, but she engaged this struggle in a way and for reasons that went beyond self-concern, exhibiting faithful presence, honesty, compassion, and integrity. She sought connection. She risked being known. She expressed care for others. She asked for help.
She manifest through her own life experience qualities, attributes or practices the major religions of the world ascribe to their various conceptions of the transcendent or transcendence, thus embodying in finite form, life before and beyond her own life.
Joan took a risk in sharing what she did. Yet through her involvement with First Parish, the immigration workshop, and maybe our pastoral relationship, Joan was offered and accepted real spiritual nourishment. I’m inclined to say, she tasted the eternal however she might have conceptualized it. She then, in turn, fed a hungry world, using a personal challenge to model a response inspiring to others. Its really a beautiful thing and not something I’ll soon forget. There’s a radiance about it that lasts.
We need that radiance...the world needs it. People are hungry for it. In a world where so much is beyond our control, life can get scary, frustrating, even depressing, particularly if we dwell on our lack of control.
We can react to the challenges before us, whether they be shifting demographics impacting religious affiliation or a nation slow to learn from the past and seemingly impotent in any attempt to reign in its mutated ideologies of violence, by solely acting to alleviate our own anxiety. In which case we can expect more of the same...an intensifying spiritual hunger, a hunger not satisfied by increased consumption of transient things and ideas.
Or we can respond to the challenges before us by paying attention to the deep pang of our spiritual hunger and live to taste eternity.
We can be a place and people to feed a spiritually hungry world.
To do so we must be prepared to create the space and opportunities for people to embody the transcendent and to do so ourselves.
If you’ve attended a meeting with me, heard me talk or read an email or newsletter or newspaper piece from me about utilizing spiritual reflection, practices, and mission in how we think about and approach our ministry here, then you know some of what goes into creating such space and opportunities. Its not complicated, but it does take commitment to embrace one’s own spiritual growth, including belief in one’s worthiness to grow and it takes a certain willingness to see your own growth as inextricably linked to the spiritual growth of others and the wellbeing of our world.
Because our own individual callings and the calling of this community are connected and ultimately belong to the broader call of life itself, you and I have the power to change the world even if our own finite lives never draw us beyond the geographic area from which BUUC draws its members and friends. There’s a lot of spiritually hungry people out there. We meet them every day. They are our friends, our family, our neighbors, co-workers, our adversaries, and sometimes they’re us. Let’s feed them by laying down the burden of the anxiety of this age that we might embrace and let shine, the radiant light of life incarnate.
Amen and Blessed Be
Sermon given at Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
November 1, 2015
by Rev. Craig M. Nowak
“Sometime when the river is ice, ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life.” These words from William Stafford’s poem have both haunted and inspired me since I first encountered them in the book, “Let Your Life Speak” by the Quaker teacher, Parker Palmer. A minister recommended Palmer’s book when I came to her to talk about my calling to ministry. Up until that point in my life I had never really imagined, let alone, asked myself if the life I was living could be anything other than mine. I don’t think many of us do.
I have always been someone, for better or worse, who feels things deeply, which is another way of saying, I don’t have a really good poker face. I was reminded of this recently when a couple of you mentioned sensing a certain sadness in my presence in worship a service or two back. I appreciate you sharing that observation with me because it helped nudge me toward articulating more fully what I have thus far only alluded to during joys and concerns or in prayer. Though I have to say, I feel my thoughts this morning are not as refined as I generally prefer before I share them in a sermon.
The fact is, I have been disturbed, saddened and angered, quite frankly, by the rash of shootings that have occurred at schools and other public spaces around the country of late. These events have left me grasping for words, let alone ideas for any meaningful response. Perhaps you have felt a similar sense of helplessness.
As I have read or listened to the news coverage of these events I can’t help but think, ”the river is ice.” Nationally...globally, our collective soul seems increasingly stone cold and it hurts. In the face of the myriad challenges we face, whether it be violence, climate change, social and economic inequality and oppression, political leaders, activists, and various interest groups offer little more than predictable knee-jerk proclamations as they dig their heels in to prepare for the ensuing propaganda war.
Few, if any, take these moments as an opportunity to ask mistakes we’ve made let alone wonder whether the life we’re now living is truly ours as individuals, as a nation, or more vitally, as a global community. The pain of our age suggests we have strayed, if not flat out rejected, the life we’re called to as human beings. Collectively, we have a bizarre aversion to admitting our mistakes. Which means we don’t often recognize them, thus rarely do we learn from the past, our own immediate past and the more distance one of those who came before us and have similarly veered off the nobler path of a called life.
To find our way back will require significant change from the way we currently understand and approach life. The hope and potential for that change to occur exists right now. The agony of our age is awakening many.
People who study the sociology of religion have observed a growing trend that shows religious affiliation and church membership in America in decline. This trend has been observed across the theological spectrum with only a handful of denominations showing growth or at least holding steady in terms of membership. Unitarian Universalism is among the few religious groups more or less holding steady. Factors contributing to this decline include shifting demographics and the way our lives are structured today as well as the dominance of the Religious Right as the face...and I have to say this...the ugly face... of religion in America for decades.
Interestingly, this overall decline in religious affiliation is not coinciding with a similar decline in religious or spiritual interest. Indeed, research suggests people are as spiritually hungry as they have ever been, perhaps even more so. For Unitarian Universalists this presents both an opportunity and a challenge.
Spiritual hunger or longing, such as that so poetically articulated in our first reading...the search for “the words that come before words...that can’t be found by thought” is a manifestation of our human intuition about life, not merely our own individual life, but life itself.
Spiritual hunger is the pang of knowing that there is a dimension of life deeper, beyond or behind what we perceive through our ordinary senses and capacity to reason. It leads us to seek spiritual nourishment. Beliefs, rituals, relationships that help us transcend the boundary of our finite selves, and “Hold”, as William Blake wrote, “Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.”
This hunger is so pervasive, author and clergywoman, Barbara Brown Taylor has called our current age a time of famine. What is interesting about Taylor’s observation is that this famine exists in a time of unprecedented consumer choice and accessibility to products, religious and secular, that promise, directly and indirectly to satisfy us mind, body and soul. The famine of our age then is not about quantity, it is about quality. In this age of gnawing spiritual hunger junk diets abound. What is in short supply is authentic, trustworthy nourishment. Words, practices, experiences that slowly fill us, take time to digest, and help us grow.
To feed the spiritually hungry in ways that are also nourishing is the opportunity before us.
The challenge before us is how.
For this we return to William Stafford’s poem, Ask Me. Here the poet invites us to pause, to take time to notice, particularly when the river is ice...when we’re feeling stuck, rigid, cold. He asks us to be honest...how’d we get like this...what mistakes have we made and before we have a chance let our mind latch onto a litany of useless personal failures and shaming, he tells us how to recognize the mistakes that matter...the ones, if we allow them, that can lead us home... “ask me, he says, “whether what I have done is my life.”
Although this line is often read as a means of reflecting on and discerning one’s individual life calling, it is crucial we understand that our individual calling is inseparable from a broader, more universal calling, that of life itself: The “river flowin’ in our souls.” The poet, when he asks whether what he has done is his life, is reminding us that our individual calling is not simply a self-directed, self focused, for me only endeavor, but linked to a larger, collective calling...to embody the transcendent, the source of being, through our finite lives in service to others...Life incarnate.
Perhaps the best known example in the Western World, of life incarnate, of a person who embodied the transcendent is the person of Jesus. He endures across the ages because the accounts of his life paint a portrait of a man whose way of being in the world manifest the ineffable...”the words that come before words...the ones that hold the beginning of the world.” Because of this some came to see him as the son of God while other came to see him as pointing the way toward embodiment..challenging us to ask whether what we’ve done is our life.
For others, the Dalai Lama or Mother Theresa are examples of life incarnate. I cannot argue that all them are not supreme examples and people from whom we can learn a great deal about what life incarnate looks like. Yet life incarnate is not mere imitation of these famous figures, it is not about living their finite lives in our finite bodies. Rather, when Jesus or any spiritual teacher says to go and do likewise, they are encouraging and empowering us to embody the transcendent through our own unique finite life in our own day and age.
I want to be clear, I’m not talking about striving for perfection or achieving some unattainable standard of spiritual maturity. In fact, life incarnate is not about striving or achieving, but doing by learning to be.
An example: When I was Intern Minister in Concord, I led several workshops on the issue of immigration. There was one woman, let’s call her Joan, who came to every workshop faithfully. One day Joan came to me and said, “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.” I asked her to say more. She went on to explain that despite all the workshops and discussions she still felt like she wasn’t where the others in the group were on this issue. She added, “I care very deeply about this and the people who are suffering, but I still have a lot of questions, I feel like I’m not where I should be on this.”
I smiled, assure her there was nothing wrong with her and thanked her for her honesty. We then talked about the meaning and importance of being where she was at that moment rather than striving or pretending to be where she thought she “should” be out of anxiety. This woman was, to my mind, embodying the transcendent.
Yes, she struggled with and expressed her concerns as an individual, but she engaged this struggle in a way and for reasons that went beyond self-concern, exhibiting faithful presence, honesty, compassion, and integrity. She sought connection. She risked being known. She expressed care for others. She asked for help.
She manifest through her own life experience qualities, attributes or practices the major religions of the world ascribe to their various conceptions of the transcendent or transcendence, thus embodying in finite form, life before and beyond her own life.
Joan took a risk in sharing what she did. Yet through her involvement with First Parish, the immigration workshop, and maybe our pastoral relationship, Joan was offered and accepted real spiritual nourishment. I’m inclined to say, she tasted the eternal however she might have conceptualized it. She then, in turn, fed a hungry world, using a personal challenge to model a response inspiring to others. Its really a beautiful thing and not something I’ll soon forget. There’s a radiance about it that lasts.
We need that radiance...the world needs it. People are hungry for it. In a world where so much is beyond our control, life can get scary, frustrating, even depressing, particularly if we dwell on our lack of control.
We can react to the challenges before us, whether they be shifting demographics impacting religious affiliation or a nation slow to learn from the past and seemingly impotent in any attempt to reign in its mutated ideologies of violence, by solely acting to alleviate our own anxiety. In which case we can expect more of the same...an intensifying spiritual hunger, a hunger not satisfied by increased consumption of transient things and ideas.
Or we can respond to the challenges before us by paying attention to the deep pang of our spiritual hunger and live to taste eternity.
We can be a place and people to feed a spiritually hungry world.
To do so we must be prepared to create the space and opportunities for people to embody the transcendent and to do so ourselves.
If you’ve attended a meeting with me, heard me talk or read an email or newsletter or newspaper piece from me about utilizing spiritual reflection, practices, and mission in how we think about and approach our ministry here, then you know some of what goes into creating such space and opportunities. Its not complicated, but it does take commitment to embrace one’s own spiritual growth, including belief in one’s worthiness to grow and it takes a certain willingness to see your own growth as inextricably linked to the spiritual growth of others and the wellbeing of our world.
Because our own individual callings and the calling of this community are connected and ultimately belong to the broader call of life itself, you and I have the power to change the world even if our own finite lives never draw us beyond the geographic area from which BUUC draws its members and friends. There’s a lot of spiritually hungry people out there. We meet them every day. They are our friends, our family, our neighbors, co-workers, our adversaries, and sometimes they’re us. Let’s feed them by laying down the burden of the anxiety of this age that we might embrace and let shine, the radiant light of life incarnate.
Amen and Blessed Be
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