TURNING
Sermon given at the Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 2, 2016
by Rev. Craig M. Nowak
It is a beautiful, sunny morning. The traffic is lighter than expected and I have time to spare. As I slow to a stop at the exit ramp, I know my eventual destination is to the west (a left turn), but my GPS, says to continue straight. Somehow it doesn’t quite feel right, but straight ahead I go.
Soon I’m at a totally unfamiliar traffic circle (or round about). “Huh”, I say to myself as I circle around and take the exit indicated by my GPS. Time is getting shorter now and I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m lost or at least really headed in the wrong direction. As the time I had to spare evaporates to no time to spare… and further still to… I’ll definitely be late, I start to get really irritated.
Unkind words are directed at my GPS, which is clearly messing with me. Its diabolical plot revealed as it blurts out with smug assurance, “Arrived” just as I sail past what appears to be an abandoned storefront that resemble in no way, shape or form the place I need to be. My hands tighten around the wheel, I clamp my jaw and glare down at the little device mocking me.
Then, just to rub salt in the wound, it reminds me that I’ve passed my destination by, seemingly with glee announcing, “recalculating.”
I’m tempted to ignore it and go on, but I’m now running so late that I turn around.
Arriving back at the place I know isn’t where I intended to be, I pull over. I grab the GPS, tempted to make a permanent fixture of the sidewalk outside my car in wherever the heck I am. But first I double check the address. My shoulders drop, I sigh and feel the corners of my mouth rise slightly into something of a smile, as I realize I’ve entered the wrong address. Oops.! I enter the correct address and just to show there’s no hard feelings, I gently place the GPS down. Within no time I’m where I should be.
“To err is human,” wrote Alexander Pope. And indeed, all of us make mistakes. Sometimes, we simply make a wrong turn so to speak and quickly recalculate our route and get back on track. Other times we may know on some level we aren't quite headed in the right direction, but stubbornly refuse to believe it has anything to do with us or that we have any power to change it. Here recalculating or turning is the means by which we are directed to our error and offered the possibility of setting things right.
Our Jewish friends have a holiday, two actually, for this. One, Rosh Hashanah, starts at sundown today. Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish New year and the Days of Awe, a ten day period of introspection and repentance which culminates with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
According to tradition, there are books in which, on Rosh Hashanah, God writes our names and fate for the coming year. The books are sealed on Yon Kippur, but the fate assigned to each of us, can be altered by our actions during the Days of Awe. Actions which include: tefilah (prayer); tzedakah (good deeds or charity) and teshuvah (repentance).
While teshuvah is generally translated as repentance, scholars note a better or more accurate translation is “return” as in to God or an original or whole state. Either way, a turn or change in direction is implied and in fact, required. And it is this idea of turning, essential to the practice of teshuvah in Judaism, that we’ll consider this morning.
So why does a practice such as this matter beyond Judaism? Well, as you’ve heard me say before, ours is a relational faith. We practice and deepen our faith by establishing and maintaining right relations… with ourselves and one another both within and beyond these walls. Taking time to focus attention on the health of our relationships, is like scheduling an annual spiritual check-up.
Now, ideally, when we go for a physical at the doctor any problems or concerns we might have will be recognized and treated before they get too serious. Sometimes though, we ignore or deny problems, even when the symptoms are right before our eyes. Over time, it becomes increasingly clear something’s got to change. The same can be true for our spiritual check-up.
“Now is the time for turning” we said in our responsive reading. And indeed, as I watched and listened to what the two major political party’s presidential candidates had to say about racism during the debate last week… as reports of more and more black lives taken by law enforcement are made… and states continue to pass or defend laws aimed at surpassing minority votes under the guise of preventing voter fraud, I can’t help but think, “Now is the time for turning.” To turn, as individuals and as a nation, away from our general apathy toward, if not stubborn refusal, to recognize the depth and breath of our institutional racism and to turn toward efforts to dismantle it.
But, we’re reminded, “Turning does not come so easily. It takes an act of will…It means breaking old habits…admitting that we have been wrong…It means losing face…It means starting over…It means saying I’m sorry.”
So where do we begin? Since talk of racism often makes people defensive, start there. When we hear talk or charges of racism we can do a defensiveness check. Defensiveness is often felt as tension physically. It can also be experienced as an impulse to react or speak (externally or with our inner voice), rather than listen, first.
It is easy to get distracted or lost in our own agenda. Recall in the story of the king and the deer. The king sets off after the deer, solely intent on pursuing his agenda. As he continues his narrow pursuit, he’s not even aware of how lost he’s become until he finds himself in a situation he can’t get out of alone. Vulnerable, he cries for help, only to be rescued by the deer, the very thing he sought to destroy.
Turning then is an act of will. It means letting go of or setting aside our agenda. Don’t speak first; listen. Listening with the intention to hear and understand another, is a profoundly spiritual practice. Indeed, listening has been called the most basic form of love. And, I would argue, it is one of the least practiced forms today. Love requires vulnerability…an openness to the experience and sanctity of another.
Racism, as we know, takes many forms. I swear some of my now deceased relatives could have been the inspiration for Carroll O’Conner’s Archie Bunker on the television show, All In The Family. My family is my family. I love them. But their words were wrong. Sadly, remnants of that era of not so subtle racism remain, right up to the highest office in the land. The birther movement questioning Barrack Obama’s citizenship is racist. Likewise, the action of former governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, who wagged her finger in his face on the tarmac in Phoenix, like she was scolding a child, is racist.
Equally abhorrent as overt forms of racism, but arguably more violent and destructive in the long term, are the more subtle forms of racism that permeate American society. The institutional racism, known largely experientially by black Americans and statistically by white Americans. This is the racism present within our social institutions and structures, including law enforcement and the criminal justice system, that routinely subjects people of color of all ages, genders, sexual orientation, professional and socio-economic status to different or discriminatory treatment at virtually every level of American life.
Turning means admitting we have been wrong. Perhaps we have said and done things or not said or done things as individuals that violate our commitment as Unitarian Universalists, “to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Turning means losing face. As a nation, founded on the principles of liberty and justice for all, we must come to realize we are diminished as long, and to the degree to which, that promise remains not only unfulfilled but actively resisted in the hearts and minds and laws of this land.
Racism in American is responsible for a sad legacy of physical, emotional and spiritual violence. A legacy, no longer seemingly confined to the experience of black Americans, but increasingly a visible, regular part of American life, unveiling through tension and tragedy, the challenging truth of our interconnectedness.
And speaking of challenging truths. It seems there’s no shortage of people unable to bear the slogan “Black Lives Matter”. No, some say, “All lives matter” or, in response to deadly attacks on police, “Blue lives matter.” These counter-statements, if you will, while true and however well-intentioned they may be, miss the point.
To counter, “Black lives matter” with “All (or Blue) lives matter” is to resist truly acknowledging the longstanding and continuing effects of racism in the United States.
As a society, most citizens… our institutions and our justice system do not question that “Blue” or police lives matter. And “All lives matter”, rooted in part, in a rush toward unity and an assumption that the promise of equal opportunity and treatment under the law equals its practice serves only to silence the experience of black Americans.
“Black Lives Matter” breaks the silence. It is a statement in response to a society that operates in ways that regularly questions and denies the truth of that statement. As Black Lives Matter founders Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi, note:
“Black Lives Matter doesn’t mean your life isn’t important…We’re not saying Black lives are more important than other lives, or that other lives are not criminalized and oppressed in various ways. We remain in active solidarity with all oppressed people who are fighting for their liberation and we know that our destinies are intertwined.”
But as they further note,
“Progressive movements in the United States have made some unfortunate errors when they push for unity at the expense of really understanding the concrete differences in context, experience and oppression. In other words, some want unity without struggle.” As people who have our minds stayed on freedom, we can learn to fight anti-Black racism by examining the ways in which we participate in it, even unintentionally, instead of the worn out and sloppy practice of drawing lazy parallels of unity between peoples with vastly different experiences and histories.”
And so, turning also means starting over. Living into rather than around challenging truths. It means saying we’re sorry for rushing toward the comfort of unity without engaging deeply in the struggle for justice.
Finally, turning means, “recognizing that we have the ability to change.” and that if we don’t, “we will be trapped forever in yesterday’s ways.”
In terms of racial justice, yesterday’s ways are an affront to human worth and dignity. As Unitarian Universalists we covenant to affirm and promote “human worth and dignity, justice, equity and compassion in human relations…and the goal of a world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” In the face of racism, silence in word or deed speaks volumes.
Thus may we be reminded and inspired that when asked over a century ago, “Where do Universalist stand?”, the Reverend Lewis B. Fisher replied, “The only true answer . . . is that we do not stand at all, we move.” To which, may we add, for the sake of justice and our souls, “we turn.”
Amen and Blessed Be
Sermon given at the Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 2, 2016
by Rev. Craig M. Nowak
It is a beautiful, sunny morning. The traffic is lighter than expected and I have time to spare. As I slow to a stop at the exit ramp, I know my eventual destination is to the west (a left turn), but my GPS, says to continue straight. Somehow it doesn’t quite feel right, but straight ahead I go.
Soon I’m at a totally unfamiliar traffic circle (or round about). “Huh”, I say to myself as I circle around and take the exit indicated by my GPS. Time is getting shorter now and I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m lost or at least really headed in the wrong direction. As the time I had to spare evaporates to no time to spare… and further still to… I’ll definitely be late, I start to get really irritated.
Unkind words are directed at my GPS, which is clearly messing with me. Its diabolical plot revealed as it blurts out with smug assurance, “Arrived” just as I sail past what appears to be an abandoned storefront that resemble in no way, shape or form the place I need to be. My hands tighten around the wheel, I clamp my jaw and glare down at the little device mocking me.
Then, just to rub salt in the wound, it reminds me that I’ve passed my destination by, seemingly with glee announcing, “recalculating.”
I’m tempted to ignore it and go on, but I’m now running so late that I turn around.
Arriving back at the place I know isn’t where I intended to be, I pull over. I grab the GPS, tempted to make a permanent fixture of the sidewalk outside my car in wherever the heck I am. But first I double check the address. My shoulders drop, I sigh and feel the corners of my mouth rise slightly into something of a smile, as I realize I’ve entered the wrong address. Oops.! I enter the correct address and just to show there’s no hard feelings, I gently place the GPS down. Within no time I’m where I should be.
“To err is human,” wrote Alexander Pope. And indeed, all of us make mistakes. Sometimes, we simply make a wrong turn so to speak and quickly recalculate our route and get back on track. Other times we may know on some level we aren't quite headed in the right direction, but stubbornly refuse to believe it has anything to do with us or that we have any power to change it. Here recalculating or turning is the means by which we are directed to our error and offered the possibility of setting things right.
Our Jewish friends have a holiday, two actually, for this. One, Rosh Hashanah, starts at sundown today. Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish New year and the Days of Awe, a ten day period of introspection and repentance which culminates with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
According to tradition, there are books in which, on Rosh Hashanah, God writes our names and fate for the coming year. The books are sealed on Yon Kippur, but the fate assigned to each of us, can be altered by our actions during the Days of Awe. Actions which include: tefilah (prayer); tzedakah (good deeds or charity) and teshuvah (repentance).
While teshuvah is generally translated as repentance, scholars note a better or more accurate translation is “return” as in to God or an original or whole state. Either way, a turn or change in direction is implied and in fact, required. And it is this idea of turning, essential to the practice of teshuvah in Judaism, that we’ll consider this morning.
So why does a practice such as this matter beyond Judaism? Well, as you’ve heard me say before, ours is a relational faith. We practice and deepen our faith by establishing and maintaining right relations… with ourselves and one another both within and beyond these walls. Taking time to focus attention on the health of our relationships, is like scheduling an annual spiritual check-up.
Now, ideally, when we go for a physical at the doctor any problems or concerns we might have will be recognized and treated before they get too serious. Sometimes though, we ignore or deny problems, even when the symptoms are right before our eyes. Over time, it becomes increasingly clear something’s got to change. The same can be true for our spiritual check-up.
“Now is the time for turning” we said in our responsive reading. And indeed, as I watched and listened to what the two major political party’s presidential candidates had to say about racism during the debate last week… as reports of more and more black lives taken by law enforcement are made… and states continue to pass or defend laws aimed at surpassing minority votes under the guise of preventing voter fraud, I can’t help but think, “Now is the time for turning.” To turn, as individuals and as a nation, away from our general apathy toward, if not stubborn refusal, to recognize the depth and breath of our institutional racism and to turn toward efforts to dismantle it.
But, we’re reminded, “Turning does not come so easily. It takes an act of will…It means breaking old habits…admitting that we have been wrong…It means losing face…It means starting over…It means saying I’m sorry.”
So where do we begin? Since talk of racism often makes people defensive, start there. When we hear talk or charges of racism we can do a defensiveness check. Defensiveness is often felt as tension physically. It can also be experienced as an impulse to react or speak (externally or with our inner voice), rather than listen, first.
It is easy to get distracted or lost in our own agenda. Recall in the story of the king and the deer. The king sets off after the deer, solely intent on pursuing his agenda. As he continues his narrow pursuit, he’s not even aware of how lost he’s become until he finds himself in a situation he can’t get out of alone. Vulnerable, he cries for help, only to be rescued by the deer, the very thing he sought to destroy.
Turning then is an act of will. It means letting go of or setting aside our agenda. Don’t speak first; listen. Listening with the intention to hear and understand another, is a profoundly spiritual practice. Indeed, listening has been called the most basic form of love. And, I would argue, it is one of the least practiced forms today. Love requires vulnerability…an openness to the experience and sanctity of another.
Racism, as we know, takes many forms. I swear some of my now deceased relatives could have been the inspiration for Carroll O’Conner’s Archie Bunker on the television show, All In The Family. My family is my family. I love them. But their words were wrong. Sadly, remnants of that era of not so subtle racism remain, right up to the highest office in the land. The birther movement questioning Barrack Obama’s citizenship is racist. Likewise, the action of former governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, who wagged her finger in his face on the tarmac in Phoenix, like she was scolding a child, is racist.
Equally abhorrent as overt forms of racism, but arguably more violent and destructive in the long term, are the more subtle forms of racism that permeate American society. The institutional racism, known largely experientially by black Americans and statistically by white Americans. This is the racism present within our social institutions and structures, including law enforcement and the criminal justice system, that routinely subjects people of color of all ages, genders, sexual orientation, professional and socio-economic status to different or discriminatory treatment at virtually every level of American life.
Turning means admitting we have been wrong. Perhaps we have said and done things or not said or done things as individuals that violate our commitment as Unitarian Universalists, “to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Turning means losing face. As a nation, founded on the principles of liberty and justice for all, we must come to realize we are diminished as long, and to the degree to which, that promise remains not only unfulfilled but actively resisted in the hearts and minds and laws of this land.
Racism in American is responsible for a sad legacy of physical, emotional and spiritual violence. A legacy, no longer seemingly confined to the experience of black Americans, but increasingly a visible, regular part of American life, unveiling through tension and tragedy, the challenging truth of our interconnectedness.
And speaking of challenging truths. It seems there’s no shortage of people unable to bear the slogan “Black Lives Matter”. No, some say, “All lives matter” or, in response to deadly attacks on police, “Blue lives matter.” These counter-statements, if you will, while true and however well-intentioned they may be, miss the point.
To counter, “Black lives matter” with “All (or Blue) lives matter” is to resist truly acknowledging the longstanding and continuing effects of racism in the United States.
As a society, most citizens… our institutions and our justice system do not question that “Blue” or police lives matter. And “All lives matter”, rooted in part, in a rush toward unity and an assumption that the promise of equal opportunity and treatment under the law equals its practice serves only to silence the experience of black Americans.
“Black Lives Matter” breaks the silence. It is a statement in response to a society that operates in ways that regularly questions and denies the truth of that statement. As Black Lives Matter founders Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi, note:
“Black Lives Matter doesn’t mean your life isn’t important…We’re not saying Black lives are more important than other lives, or that other lives are not criminalized and oppressed in various ways. We remain in active solidarity with all oppressed people who are fighting for their liberation and we know that our destinies are intertwined.”
But as they further note,
“Progressive movements in the United States have made some unfortunate errors when they push for unity at the expense of really understanding the concrete differences in context, experience and oppression. In other words, some want unity without struggle.” As people who have our minds stayed on freedom, we can learn to fight anti-Black racism by examining the ways in which we participate in it, even unintentionally, instead of the worn out and sloppy practice of drawing lazy parallels of unity between peoples with vastly different experiences and histories.”
And so, turning also means starting over. Living into rather than around challenging truths. It means saying we’re sorry for rushing toward the comfort of unity without engaging deeply in the struggle for justice.
Finally, turning means, “recognizing that we have the ability to change.” and that if we don’t, “we will be trapped forever in yesterday’s ways.”
In terms of racial justice, yesterday’s ways are an affront to human worth and dignity. As Unitarian Universalists we covenant to affirm and promote “human worth and dignity, justice, equity and compassion in human relations…and the goal of a world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” In the face of racism, silence in word or deed speaks volumes.
Thus may we be reminded and inspired that when asked over a century ago, “Where do Universalist stand?”, the Reverend Lewis B. Fisher replied, “The only true answer . . . is that we do not stand at all, we move.” To which, may we add, for the sake of justice and our souls, “we turn.”
Amen and Blessed Be
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