"We achieve peace by speaking the truth with love, and listening for truth spoken in love. The path to peace has always been challenging, and these challenges will ask much from us in the months and years to come. Let us engage in friendship and dialogue, exchanges of perspectives and values framed with respect." -- The Rev. Lyn Cox
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Our Better Angels
by Rev. Lyn Cox
12/4/2016
Presence is a spiritual practice. It’s also our theme for the month. We are challenged to be present with the turmoil in our own hearts, present with one another, present with our diverse community, and present in many places that may be uncomfortable. Christmas, Hanukkah, the Winter Solstice, and other seasonal celebrations give us lots of moments to take up that challenge. The winter holidays bring up strong feelings about our families of origin, the paths we have chosen, and a society that may or may not welcome us as we are. If we are lucky, encounters with holiday tensions can be points of spiritual growth and opportunities for dialogue.
Sometimes being present among people who observe the winter holidays differently is a challenge. The symbols and music of this season telegraph messages about what we hold most deeply. Carols and stories speak of angels, yet those angels mean different things to different people. What is an angel but a messenger? We can choose to send and receive angels of peace as we move through the season.
I’m coming to understand that there are frames of mind and habits of speech that help us to invoke our better angels. One suggestion is for each person to speak for himself or herself. When we speak in the first person, the discussion can be based on relationship rather than arguable points. Secondly, we can listen. Be curious about the other person’s experience. Put another way: exchange differences, rather than trying to spend all of your time on the common ground. Third, get comfortable in our mythic stories, play with them, and invite others to dwell in those stories with us. Stories are also messengers. Speak for yourself. Exchange differences. Live in the stories. These are three ways to find the angels of peace within our interfaith holiday encounters.
Speak for Yourself
You may be familiar with the NPR program On Being, hosted by Krista Tippett. Her show often delves into matters of faith. She frames the interview to ground spirituality in concrete living. In one of her essays, she wrote, “A listener might disagree with your opinion on ultimate questions but can’t disagree with your experience of them. There is a profound difference between hearing someone say, ‘this is the truth’ and hearing her say, ‘this is my truth.’”
In my household, we have opportunities to say, “this is my truth,” in our family meetings leading into the winter holiday season. We are an interfaith family that includes three adults from different backgrounds. We’re raising our children Jewish, with some Unitarian Universalist flair. As the months of the year enter double digits, we begin our annual talk about year-end charitable giving, guidelines for gifts to extended family and to each other, and whether and how we will decorate our home. Some things change from year to year – our priorities, our financial means, our needs, the needs of people we love.
We each have things that are personally important about the holidays. One of us likes to think creatively about gifts for people she cares about. One of us likes to make food. I like to eat food and to wrap presents. We find many ways to make the Winter Solstice, Hannukah, and Christmas meaningful for our household and in contact with our extended family.
We decided over a decade ago that an evergreen tree was not going to work for us. We have other seasonal decorations, but we don’t have a tree. For us, the tree is too much of a symbol of one tradition’s dominance in the larger culture. Especially now that we have Jewish children, we hold the space open for something that is meaningful for and inclusive of our whole family.
This choice feels like the most authentic approach for us, yet I am sometimes ambivalent. When I do feel drawn to having a Solstice tree, I have to stop and reflect on what’s really important about that symbol. I find that the process of holding decorations in my hand as I place them is part of the magic. Actually having the tree sit there is not as important as the process. I also like having some changes in the environment to signal my brain that we are entering a time of contemplation. Decorations other than a tree accomplish that more effectively for me, such as a personalized wreath, or a new tablecloth, or dusting off the menorah. I discerned what was important by speaking from my own experience.
When we’re talking about issues of value and meaning, speaking in the first person helps us to hear each other. Rather than arguing about truth with a capital “T,” we sit firmly on the ground of experience. During a season of the year that is known for creating memories, let’s share what those memories have taught us.
Exchange Differences
A second bit of strategy for holiday encounters is to listen and to ask questions that get to the heart of diversity. Exchange differences. Common ground can be a great entry point, and deeper relationships ask us to go past that into the realm of the uncommon.
I found this to be true at an interfaith prayer summit in Washington, DC, a few years ago during Advent. We were there to pray with and for the DREAMers, young activists who grew up in this country and want to give back by getting an education or serving in the military, but face obstacles because they are undocumented. The DREAM Act would have provided a path to citizenship for young people who were brought to this country before they were 16 and have lived here for at least five years.
We were there to pray with and for the students. They traveled a long distance, braving the cold and risking deportation, to speak to their Senators. The Interfaith Immigration Coalition called to clergy from across the religious spectrum and all over the country to come to Capitol Hill. It was an interfaith gathering where people spoke clearly and eloquently about why this issue is a religious and moral one for them.
Rabbi David Saperstein, Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (http://rac.org/ ), recalled the Biblical and modern stories of the people of God moving from place to place as they fled from hostile lands or went in search of a better life. He described the concept of the stranger, quoting one of the passages that call us to love the sojourner as ourselves, for we were once strangers in the land. He said:
There is not a Jew in America [who] doesn’t understand the pain of being denied the opportunity to live with full protection of laws in equality in the land in which we live. There is no clearer mandate in the Bible, there is no rule repeated more times than Gods’ call to treat those who live in our midst, who cannot yet be fully citizens in this country, to treat them exactly as we treat ourselves, to treat them as though they are our own.
Many of the Christian faith leaders talked about Advent, saying that this is the time of year when we are reminded of a special concern for young people in our midst. Christians tell the story of a baby born far away from his parents’ families. The Book of Matthew says that the life of the young Jesus was threatened, and the family took refuge in Egypt. These clergy talked about a season of hope fueled by their faith.
After the prayer summit in the chapel of the Methodist Building, we walked hand-in-hand around the Senate office buildings, then across the street to a nearby park. The religious leaders encircled the students. With so many of us in dark suits and clerical collars, I was reminded of penguins keeping each other warm. The students began singing the national anthem, and we joined them. They knelt in the cold grass as we continued to surround them and touch their shoulders in blessing. From there, we went through security to stand in the atrium of the Hart Senate office building. Prayers were addressed to Creator, God, Spirit of the Mother, El Señor Supremo, Source of Life Known By Many Names, and La Virgen de Guadalupe.
One of the things I found so powerful about this event is the way each person spoke their own truth, testifying in the language and framework of their own faith about why this issue was important to them. We could have spent the day politely ignoring our differences. Instead, we were able to draw from our deepest longings and convictions. This was possible because we were committed to listening.
Let me be clear about the nature of peace. Peace is about seeking justice and wholeness. Among people at peace, we hold our differences honestly and creatively. Peace does not come from suppressing dissent. Peace does not come from wiping away the evidence of disagreement or conflict. Peace is not holding a surface level of civility without addressing the shared work from different perspectives. Whether the venue is our families or our congregation or our nation or our world, we achieve peace by working for justice, inclusion, equality, and compassion.
We achieve peace by speaking the truth with love, and listening for truth spoken in love. The path to peace has always been challenging, and these challenges will ask much from us in the months and years to come. Let us engage in friendship and dialogue, exchanges of perspectives and values framed with respect.
This morning’s Time for All Ages story (Elijah’s Angel by Michael J. Rosen) describes such an exchange. Elijah tells of his faith experience, and Michael is clear about being a Jewish kid. They listen to each other. Elijah sends his artwork with a prayer, and Michael gives him a menorah made with his own hands. Their friendship is enriched by curiosity and generosity of difference.
Dwell in the Stories
In addition to speaking in the first person and listening as we exchange differences, we seek our better angels through mythic stories. Legends are messengers from generation to generation. This is especially true as we approach the religious celebrations that are important to us. I believe that, once we have become comfortable with the tales of our own traditions, once we have made a home for ourselves in those stories, we can invite our friends to visit us there. Character and drama express complex truths in a way that is easier to share than abstract philosophical points. At the immigration prayer summit, several of the religious leaders used examples from the great stories of their traditions.
Our better angels are disguised as characters in many different dramas. For me, the winter solstice is a time to recall the story of Mother Night and the sun (retold in Circle Round: Raising Children in Goddess Traditions). The sun had grown tired from the daily effort of lifting itself up over the horizon and gently kneeling down at each sunset. Each day, the sun rose a little later and went to bed a little earlier. Mother Night said, “Come and rest in my arms.”
The sun went to be cradled in the Great Mother’s arms, sleeping and growing younger all through the night of the Winter Solstice. The people of earth noticed the sun’s long absence. They lit fires and sang songs of gratitude to awaken the sun again. And so it was that the young sun was born again, gaining strength each day as it learned to rise a little earlier and set a little later throughout the rest of the winter and into the spring.
I think we have all been the sun in this story, tired and seeking rest at the time of the winter solstice. If you are willing, close your eyes and imagine being the sun on the longest night of the year. Now, shift your perspective. I invite you to dwell with me in the story as Mother Night. In your mind’s eye, open your arms and invite the sun to rest and grow bright again. As you release the sun to meet the morning after the solstice, imagine we are all Mother Night. When you are ready, open your eyes. Together, as a circle, we can create the sheltering embrace that allows weary stars among us to regain strength. As a community, we light a flame of hope and sing songs of gratitude to give energy to the turning of the year.
Conclusion
May we each have the chance to turn moments of holiday tension into spiritual growth. We invite the angels of peace when we speak gently in the first person, when we speak and listen in an exchange of differences, and when we invite our loved ones to dwell in the stories with us.
I wish you Solstice blessings. May we find rest and the strength of a new day. May our memories of Hanukkah inspire us to light flames of hope regardless of the odds. Merry Christmas. May we create a shelter for those who seek. Happy new year. Let our songs and stories be messengers of love.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
“Our Better Angels” Rev. Lyn Cox PAGE 1
by Rev. Lyn Cox
12/4/2016
Presence is a spiritual practice. It’s also our theme for the month. We are challenged to be present with the turmoil in our own hearts, present with one another, present with our diverse community, and present in many places that may be uncomfortable. Christmas, Hanukkah, the Winter Solstice, and other seasonal celebrations give us lots of moments to take up that challenge. The winter holidays bring up strong feelings about our families of origin, the paths we have chosen, and a society that may or may not welcome us as we are. If we are lucky, encounters with holiday tensions can be points of spiritual growth and opportunities for dialogue.
Sometimes being present among people who observe the winter holidays differently is a challenge. The symbols and music of this season telegraph messages about what we hold most deeply. Carols and stories speak of angels, yet those angels mean different things to different people. What is an angel but a messenger? We can choose to send and receive angels of peace as we move through the season.
I’m coming to understand that there are frames of mind and habits of speech that help us to invoke our better angels. One suggestion is for each person to speak for himself or herself. When we speak in the first person, the discussion can be based on relationship rather than arguable points. Secondly, we can listen. Be curious about the other person’s experience. Put another way: exchange differences, rather than trying to spend all of your time on the common ground. Third, get comfortable in our mythic stories, play with them, and invite others to dwell in those stories with us. Stories are also messengers. Speak for yourself. Exchange differences. Live in the stories. These are three ways to find the angels of peace within our interfaith holiday encounters.
Speak for Yourself
You may be familiar with the NPR program On Being, hosted by Krista Tippett. Her show often delves into matters of faith. She frames the interview to ground spirituality in concrete living. In one of her essays, she wrote, “A listener might disagree with your opinion on ultimate questions but can’t disagree with your experience of them. There is a profound difference between hearing someone say, ‘this is the truth’ and hearing her say, ‘this is my truth.’”
In my household, we have opportunities to say, “this is my truth,” in our family meetings leading into the winter holiday season. We are an interfaith family that includes three adults from different backgrounds. We’re raising our children Jewish, with some Unitarian Universalist flair. As the months of the year enter double digits, we begin our annual talk about year-end charitable giving, guidelines for gifts to extended family and to each other, and whether and how we will decorate our home. Some things change from year to year – our priorities, our financial means, our needs, the needs of people we love.
We each have things that are personally important about the holidays. One of us likes to think creatively about gifts for people she cares about. One of us likes to make food. I like to eat food and to wrap presents. We find many ways to make the Winter Solstice, Hannukah, and Christmas meaningful for our household and in contact with our extended family.
We decided over a decade ago that an evergreen tree was not going to work for us. We have other seasonal decorations, but we don’t have a tree. For us, the tree is too much of a symbol of one tradition’s dominance in the larger culture. Especially now that we have Jewish children, we hold the space open for something that is meaningful for and inclusive of our whole family.
This choice feels like the most authentic approach for us, yet I am sometimes ambivalent. When I do feel drawn to having a Solstice tree, I have to stop and reflect on what’s really important about that symbol. I find that the process of holding decorations in my hand as I place them is part of the magic. Actually having the tree sit there is not as important as the process. I also like having some changes in the environment to signal my brain that we are entering a time of contemplation. Decorations other than a tree accomplish that more effectively for me, such as a personalized wreath, or a new tablecloth, or dusting off the menorah. I discerned what was important by speaking from my own experience.
When we’re talking about issues of value and meaning, speaking in the first person helps us to hear each other. Rather than arguing about truth with a capital “T,” we sit firmly on the ground of experience. During a season of the year that is known for creating memories, let’s share what those memories have taught us.
Exchange Differences
A second bit of strategy for holiday encounters is to listen and to ask questions that get to the heart of diversity. Exchange differences. Common ground can be a great entry point, and deeper relationships ask us to go past that into the realm of the uncommon.
I found this to be true at an interfaith prayer summit in Washington, DC, a few years ago during Advent. We were there to pray with and for the DREAMers, young activists who grew up in this country and want to give back by getting an education or serving in the military, but face obstacles because they are undocumented. The DREAM Act would have provided a path to citizenship for young people who were brought to this country before they were 16 and have lived here for at least five years.
We were there to pray with and for the students. They traveled a long distance, braving the cold and risking deportation, to speak to their Senators. The Interfaith Immigration Coalition called to clergy from across the religious spectrum and all over the country to come to Capitol Hill. It was an interfaith gathering where people spoke clearly and eloquently about why this issue is a religious and moral one for them.
Rabbi David Saperstein, Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (http://rac.org/ ), recalled the Biblical and modern stories of the people of God moving from place to place as they fled from hostile lands or went in search of a better life. He described the concept of the stranger, quoting one of the passages that call us to love the sojourner as ourselves, for we were once strangers in the land. He said:
There is not a Jew in America [who] doesn’t understand the pain of being denied the opportunity to live with full protection of laws in equality in the land in which we live. There is no clearer mandate in the Bible, there is no rule repeated more times than Gods’ call to treat those who live in our midst, who cannot yet be fully citizens in this country, to treat them exactly as we treat ourselves, to treat them as though they are our own.
Many of the Christian faith leaders talked about Advent, saying that this is the time of year when we are reminded of a special concern for young people in our midst. Christians tell the story of a baby born far away from his parents’ families. The Book of Matthew says that the life of the young Jesus was threatened, and the family took refuge in Egypt. These clergy talked about a season of hope fueled by their faith.
After the prayer summit in the chapel of the Methodist Building, we walked hand-in-hand around the Senate office buildings, then across the street to a nearby park. The religious leaders encircled the students. With so many of us in dark suits and clerical collars, I was reminded of penguins keeping each other warm. The students began singing the national anthem, and we joined them. They knelt in the cold grass as we continued to surround them and touch their shoulders in blessing. From there, we went through security to stand in the atrium of the Hart Senate office building. Prayers were addressed to Creator, God, Spirit of the Mother, El Señor Supremo, Source of Life Known By Many Names, and La Virgen de Guadalupe.
One of the things I found so powerful about this event is the way each person spoke their own truth, testifying in the language and framework of their own faith about why this issue was important to them. We could have spent the day politely ignoring our differences. Instead, we were able to draw from our deepest longings and convictions. This was possible because we were committed to listening.
Let me be clear about the nature of peace. Peace is about seeking justice and wholeness. Among people at peace, we hold our differences honestly and creatively. Peace does not come from suppressing dissent. Peace does not come from wiping away the evidence of disagreement or conflict. Peace is not holding a surface level of civility without addressing the shared work from different perspectives. Whether the venue is our families or our congregation or our nation or our world, we achieve peace by working for justice, inclusion, equality, and compassion.
We achieve peace by speaking the truth with love, and listening for truth spoken in love. The path to peace has always been challenging, and these challenges will ask much from us in the months and years to come. Let us engage in friendship and dialogue, exchanges of perspectives and values framed with respect.
This morning’s Time for All Ages story (Elijah’s Angel by Michael J. Rosen) describes such an exchange. Elijah tells of his faith experience, and Michael is clear about being a Jewish kid. They listen to each other. Elijah sends his artwork with a prayer, and Michael gives him a menorah made with his own hands. Their friendship is enriched by curiosity and generosity of difference.
Dwell in the Stories
In addition to speaking in the first person and listening as we exchange differences, we seek our better angels through mythic stories. Legends are messengers from generation to generation. This is especially true as we approach the religious celebrations that are important to us. I believe that, once we have become comfortable with the tales of our own traditions, once we have made a home for ourselves in those stories, we can invite our friends to visit us there. Character and drama express complex truths in a way that is easier to share than abstract philosophical points. At the immigration prayer summit, several of the religious leaders used examples from the great stories of their traditions.
Our better angels are disguised as characters in many different dramas. For me, the winter solstice is a time to recall the story of Mother Night and the sun (retold in Circle Round: Raising Children in Goddess Traditions). The sun had grown tired from the daily effort of lifting itself up over the horizon and gently kneeling down at each sunset. Each day, the sun rose a little later and went to bed a little earlier. Mother Night said, “Come and rest in my arms.”
The sun went to be cradled in the Great Mother’s arms, sleeping and growing younger all through the night of the Winter Solstice. The people of earth noticed the sun’s long absence. They lit fires and sang songs of gratitude to awaken the sun again. And so it was that the young sun was born again, gaining strength each day as it learned to rise a little earlier and set a little later throughout the rest of the winter and into the spring.
I think we have all been the sun in this story, tired and seeking rest at the time of the winter solstice. If you are willing, close your eyes and imagine being the sun on the longest night of the year. Now, shift your perspective. I invite you to dwell with me in the story as Mother Night. In your mind’s eye, open your arms and invite the sun to rest and grow bright again. As you release the sun to meet the morning after the solstice, imagine we are all Mother Night. When you are ready, open your eyes. Together, as a circle, we can create the sheltering embrace that allows weary stars among us to regain strength. As a community, we light a flame of hope and sing songs of gratitude to give energy to the turning of the year.
Conclusion
May we each have the chance to turn moments of holiday tension into spiritual growth. We invite the angels of peace when we speak gently in the first person, when we speak and listen in an exchange of differences, and when we invite our loved ones to dwell in the stories with us.
I wish you Solstice blessings. May we find rest and the strength of a new day. May our memories of Hanukkah inspire us to light flames of hope regardless of the odds. Merry Christmas. May we create a shelter for those who seek. Happy new year. Let our songs and stories be messengers of love.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
“Our Better Angels” Rev. Lyn Cox PAGE 1
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