Do you have a spiritual practice?
Walking? Hiking? Meditating? Praying? Serving others?
How much nourishment are you giving your practice?
In this sermon, the Rev. Lyn Cox encourages us to to end the Jewish new year in harmony.
What would a life in harmony feel like for you?
Listen to her sermon here or read the entire sermon below.
Walking? Hiking? Meditating? Praying? Serving others?
How much nourishment are you giving your practice?
In this sermon, the Rev. Lyn Cox encourages us to to end the Jewish new year in harmony.
What would a life in harmony feel like for you?
Listen to her sermon here or read the entire sermon below.
The Book of Life
By Rev. Lyn Cox
The Jewish Holiday of Rosh Hashana, the new year, begins this evening. A Rosh Hashana tradition is to wish for each other to “be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.” The image is of a giant ledger of rights and wrongs, open for updating during the High Holidays. We want everybody to end the year in the black. For me as a Universalist, I think of the Book of Life more as an ongoing story, one that we can write each other into by our compassion and curiosity for one another, a book we can write ourselves into with our active participation in harmony with the sacred. One of the ways we know we’re working with Life is when we recognize flow and change. Biological life is ongoing, persistent, dynamic, and a little bit chaotic. When someone tells me, “May you be inscribed in the Book of Life,” I hear, “May you be an active participant in a story about positive change.” May it be so for all of us.
The questions for Rosh Hashana are, in some ways, the same questions that many Pagans ask as they consider justice at the Fall Equinox, and the same questions that many people involved with school ask at the beginning of the academic year: How can we change? How can we improve? How can we make choices that sustain life? Coming back to these big questions on a regular basis is important, because in the day-to-day moments, we often feel backed into the corner. Some creative, nourishing choices are difficult to see when we’re looking at a problem too closely or in isolation. Starting the year with room to grow requires some mutual support.
In thinking about joining the story of life, the story of change and growth, a few ideas come up: Redefine the problem. Maintain a spiritual practice. Find and care for divinity in each other. I think if we can do these things, we can write our stories into an ongoing, thriving Book of Life: Redefine the problem. Maintain a spiritual practice. Find and care for the divinity in each other.
Redefine the Problem
The metaphor of turning is a strong theme in the Jewish High Holidays. That can mean turning toward a spiritual life or returning to a direction congruent with your values. I also like to think about turning over a puzzle as you figure out how to solve it. Get a different perspective. Open up to new possibilities.
Universalist minister Olympia Brown was someone who found a way to win by turning a problem over. The Universalist Church had not yet ordained a woman in 1860, as she was applying and getting rejected from theological schools. She was persistent until she was admitted to the Universalist Divinity School at Saint Lawrence University. Quoting now from the Dictionary of UU Biography (http://www25.uua.org/uuhs/duub/articles/olympiabrown.html): “Ebenezer Fisher, President of the[school], offered her admission but added that he ‘did not think women were called to the ministry. But I leave that between you and the Great Head of the Church.’ This, Olympia thought, ‘was exactly where it should be left. But when I arrived, I was told I had not been expected and that Mr. Fisher had said I would not come as he had written so discouragingly to me. I had supposed his discouragement was my encouragement.’”
Even after excelling in her studies and as a student preacher, she knew she could not be ordained through the usual channels. She took her case directly to the council meeting of the regional Universalist Association, and her ordination was affirmed by the General Convention. Rather than asking, “How can I get the local council to ordain me?” Olympia asked, “How can I make a change for equality?” She redefined the problem.
I am also reminded of another fictional character backed into a different corner, Captain Kirk in Star Trek, and his response to the Kobayashi Maru test at Starfleet Academy. The test is a battle simulation designed to illuminate a potential officer’s character when faced with a no-win situation involving death. In the movie Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, we find out that Kirk reprogrammed the simulator before he took the test for a third time. He said he didn’t believe in no-win situations.
I think what ties the fictional character and historical person together is that they approached the idea of a no-win situation with skepticism. Just like we willingly suspend disbelief to an extent when we’re watching a play or reading a novel, these stories are about suspending disbelief in a negative outcome. That gives us a little more room to redefine the problem.
Maintain a Spiritual Practice
Something else we can do to align ourselves with the story of life, a story of change and growth, is to maintain a spiritual practice. A spiritual practice is something you do regularly that brings you back to your center and keeps you accountable to your deepest values. Such a practice may help helps us to stay optimistic. More often than not, I believe an individual spiritual practice will increase our capacity to step back, reflect, recharge, and approach our challenges with a clear mind. You can believe or not that God or Goddess or the Universe puts opportunities to adapt in front of us, but it makes sense to me that a practice of openness and gratitude makes it easier to see solutions when they come along.
Singing helps me do that. I will admit that I have been a bit stressed at times lately, sometimes in response to world events, sometimes in my more challenging moments as a parent. Some of the same things that give me strength and hope can, if I lose perspective, lead me to worry. I’ve been busy stewing in my own juices, generally feeling trapped in a pressure cooker of my own devising. Recently, I had to turn off the radio in the car, because my frustration with all of the news stations and commercials was so great that not even my favorite playlist could fix it. I wished I had something that would give me a nudge forward, something that would make me believe in a new beginning. In the silence, I remembered the song, “Fire of Commitment,” a contemporary UU hymn by Jason Shelton. (It’s #1028 in Singing the Journey.)
When the fire of commitment sets our minds and souls ablaze
When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way
When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within
Then our promise finds fulfillment and our future can begin
Beginning the future sounded pretty good to me. I started to feel a glimmer of possibility. I realized that it had been too long since I sang spiritual music, too long since I blasted something so starkly denominational from my speakers, and entirely too long since I connected my spiritual path with the work I was doing outside of church. I had forgotten a tool that, when I used it regularly, brought me hope and optimism. I sang the whole thing again. By the time I got where I was going, I had some ideas about gratitude and reconciliation, and some other ideas about focusing on work that I’m passionate about. It was a good day.
Spiritual practices help us keep our inner “tools” handy for the challenges that come along. Otherwise the only tools we have are the ones being sold in the media. Maybe we can find something useful in popular culture, or maybe we’ll end up with the reality TV attitude of “I’m not here to make friends.” I believe that we can maintain our life-affirming, growth-encouraging resources by using them regularly. Whether your practice is mindful walking, prayer, yoga, baking, writing thank-you notes, or something else, I believe that habits of the soul help us to find creative solutions.
Find and Care For Divinity in Each Other
Welcoming the stranger helps us to see the possibilities for growth and change. In Jewish wisdom, it is said that when one saves a life, one saves a world. Sounds a bit like interdependence. We know that the health of the whole depends on all of us. Our communities are stronger when more of us are fed and housed. Reaching out to someone who needs help has a positive ripple effect. Save a life, save a world.
One of our UU principles is respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person. This comes from the Universalist side of our heritage, which says that no one is beyond the reach of Divine love. For some of us who are theists, we see a reflection of the Holy in every face. For some of us who are not theists, we look for all of the holiness we expect to find in the people around us and in the world as it is. I think we can agree on finding and caring for divinity in each other. A covenant is alive.
This respect for each other is part of what leads us to form a community in covenant. We make promises to one another and to the source of our ultimate concern about how we will be together and how we will pursue our mission together. The thing about covenants is that they embrace relationship, and they are resilient enough to survive brokenness.
Unitarian Universalist theologian James Luther Adams gave credit to Jewish theologian Martin Buber in calling humans “promise-making, promise-keeping, promise-breaking, promise-renewing” creatures. Adams said that making commitments are how we become human, how we are brought out of separateness, how we exercise both agency and accountability. But of course sometimes we fail. When we fall out of covenant, we can come back in and be invited to come back in through those same practices, such as deep listening and loving speech.
What I would like to suggest is that, in moving forward together as a congregation in this year of discernment, we face the possibility of mistakes with courage. We may try something as a congregation and miss the mark. We may enter into a time of great challenge and occasionally get so caught up in it that we have to apologize, reconcile, and repair our covenant. Let us begin again in love.
I know that you and we are capable of returning to the Book of Life. There is great kindness here. The talent and energy that is drawn forth from people here in the service of compassion is astounding. It matters. If you sent a card, held someone in prayer, brought a meal, showed up to honor someone, sent an encouraging text message, it matters. These acts of kindness add up to sustain bodies and spirits. Save a life, save a world.
What I’m asking here is that this congregation continues to practice compassion. Keep practicing kindness, and may others can follow your example. Offer a kind word to care for someone’s spirit, and let that kindness ripple out to everyone they meet. When covenantal missteps happen, begin again in love. Care for each other so that we have the strength to find creative solutions in the year ahead.
Conclusion
As we support our neighbors and family celebrating the Jewish High Holidays, may the spirit of the season call us back to the idea of starting over, of re-committing to our values, of seeing the big picture of our whole system. The turning seasons may set us in motion, turning over problems to find a new perspective. The rhythms of the days and nights may inspire us to maintain a spiritual practice. The cooler weather may bring us together, in close view of the divinity that we care for in each other. May these changes help us to adapt in life-affirming ways. May we all be written into the Book of Life.
© 2016 Rev. Lyn Cox
By Rev. Lyn Cox
The Jewish Holiday of Rosh Hashana, the new year, begins this evening. A Rosh Hashana tradition is to wish for each other to “be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.” The image is of a giant ledger of rights and wrongs, open for updating during the High Holidays. We want everybody to end the year in the black. For me as a Universalist, I think of the Book of Life more as an ongoing story, one that we can write each other into by our compassion and curiosity for one another, a book we can write ourselves into with our active participation in harmony with the sacred. One of the ways we know we’re working with Life is when we recognize flow and change. Biological life is ongoing, persistent, dynamic, and a little bit chaotic. When someone tells me, “May you be inscribed in the Book of Life,” I hear, “May you be an active participant in a story about positive change.” May it be so for all of us.
The questions for Rosh Hashana are, in some ways, the same questions that many Pagans ask as they consider justice at the Fall Equinox, and the same questions that many people involved with school ask at the beginning of the academic year: How can we change? How can we improve? How can we make choices that sustain life? Coming back to these big questions on a regular basis is important, because in the day-to-day moments, we often feel backed into the corner. Some creative, nourishing choices are difficult to see when we’re looking at a problem too closely or in isolation. Starting the year with room to grow requires some mutual support.
In thinking about joining the story of life, the story of change and growth, a few ideas come up: Redefine the problem. Maintain a spiritual practice. Find and care for divinity in each other. I think if we can do these things, we can write our stories into an ongoing, thriving Book of Life: Redefine the problem. Maintain a spiritual practice. Find and care for the divinity in each other.
Redefine the Problem
The metaphor of turning is a strong theme in the Jewish High Holidays. That can mean turning toward a spiritual life or returning to a direction congruent with your values. I also like to think about turning over a puzzle as you figure out how to solve it. Get a different perspective. Open up to new possibilities.
Universalist minister Olympia Brown was someone who found a way to win by turning a problem over. The Universalist Church had not yet ordained a woman in 1860, as she was applying and getting rejected from theological schools. She was persistent until she was admitted to the Universalist Divinity School at Saint Lawrence University. Quoting now from the Dictionary of UU Biography (http://www25.uua.org/uuhs/duub/articles/olympiabrown.html): “Ebenezer Fisher, President of the[school], offered her admission but added that he ‘did not think women were called to the ministry. But I leave that between you and the Great Head of the Church.’ This, Olympia thought, ‘was exactly where it should be left. But when I arrived, I was told I had not been expected and that Mr. Fisher had said I would not come as he had written so discouragingly to me. I had supposed his discouragement was my encouragement.’”
Even after excelling in her studies and as a student preacher, she knew she could not be ordained through the usual channels. She took her case directly to the council meeting of the regional Universalist Association, and her ordination was affirmed by the General Convention. Rather than asking, “How can I get the local council to ordain me?” Olympia asked, “How can I make a change for equality?” She redefined the problem.
I am also reminded of another fictional character backed into a different corner, Captain Kirk in Star Trek, and his response to the Kobayashi Maru test at Starfleet Academy. The test is a battle simulation designed to illuminate a potential officer’s character when faced with a no-win situation involving death. In the movie Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, we find out that Kirk reprogrammed the simulator before he took the test for a third time. He said he didn’t believe in no-win situations.
I think what ties the fictional character and historical person together is that they approached the idea of a no-win situation with skepticism. Just like we willingly suspend disbelief to an extent when we’re watching a play or reading a novel, these stories are about suspending disbelief in a negative outcome. That gives us a little more room to redefine the problem.
Maintain a Spiritual Practice
Something else we can do to align ourselves with the story of life, a story of change and growth, is to maintain a spiritual practice. A spiritual practice is something you do regularly that brings you back to your center and keeps you accountable to your deepest values. Such a practice may help helps us to stay optimistic. More often than not, I believe an individual spiritual practice will increase our capacity to step back, reflect, recharge, and approach our challenges with a clear mind. You can believe or not that God or Goddess or the Universe puts opportunities to adapt in front of us, but it makes sense to me that a practice of openness and gratitude makes it easier to see solutions when they come along.
Singing helps me do that. I will admit that I have been a bit stressed at times lately, sometimes in response to world events, sometimes in my more challenging moments as a parent. Some of the same things that give me strength and hope can, if I lose perspective, lead me to worry. I’ve been busy stewing in my own juices, generally feeling trapped in a pressure cooker of my own devising. Recently, I had to turn off the radio in the car, because my frustration with all of the news stations and commercials was so great that not even my favorite playlist could fix it. I wished I had something that would give me a nudge forward, something that would make me believe in a new beginning. In the silence, I remembered the song, “Fire of Commitment,” a contemporary UU hymn by Jason Shelton. (It’s #1028 in Singing the Journey.)
When the fire of commitment sets our minds and souls ablaze
When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way
When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within
Then our promise finds fulfillment and our future can begin
Beginning the future sounded pretty good to me. I started to feel a glimmer of possibility. I realized that it had been too long since I sang spiritual music, too long since I blasted something so starkly denominational from my speakers, and entirely too long since I connected my spiritual path with the work I was doing outside of church. I had forgotten a tool that, when I used it regularly, brought me hope and optimism. I sang the whole thing again. By the time I got where I was going, I had some ideas about gratitude and reconciliation, and some other ideas about focusing on work that I’m passionate about. It was a good day.
Spiritual practices help us keep our inner “tools” handy for the challenges that come along. Otherwise the only tools we have are the ones being sold in the media. Maybe we can find something useful in popular culture, or maybe we’ll end up with the reality TV attitude of “I’m not here to make friends.” I believe that we can maintain our life-affirming, growth-encouraging resources by using them regularly. Whether your practice is mindful walking, prayer, yoga, baking, writing thank-you notes, or something else, I believe that habits of the soul help us to find creative solutions.
Find and Care For Divinity in Each Other
Welcoming the stranger helps us to see the possibilities for growth and change. In Jewish wisdom, it is said that when one saves a life, one saves a world. Sounds a bit like interdependence. We know that the health of the whole depends on all of us. Our communities are stronger when more of us are fed and housed. Reaching out to someone who needs help has a positive ripple effect. Save a life, save a world.
One of our UU principles is respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person. This comes from the Universalist side of our heritage, which says that no one is beyond the reach of Divine love. For some of us who are theists, we see a reflection of the Holy in every face. For some of us who are not theists, we look for all of the holiness we expect to find in the people around us and in the world as it is. I think we can agree on finding and caring for divinity in each other. A covenant is alive.
This respect for each other is part of what leads us to form a community in covenant. We make promises to one another and to the source of our ultimate concern about how we will be together and how we will pursue our mission together. The thing about covenants is that they embrace relationship, and they are resilient enough to survive brokenness.
Unitarian Universalist theologian James Luther Adams gave credit to Jewish theologian Martin Buber in calling humans “promise-making, promise-keeping, promise-breaking, promise-renewing” creatures. Adams said that making commitments are how we become human, how we are brought out of separateness, how we exercise both agency and accountability. But of course sometimes we fail. When we fall out of covenant, we can come back in and be invited to come back in through those same practices, such as deep listening and loving speech.
What I would like to suggest is that, in moving forward together as a congregation in this year of discernment, we face the possibility of mistakes with courage. We may try something as a congregation and miss the mark. We may enter into a time of great challenge and occasionally get so caught up in it that we have to apologize, reconcile, and repair our covenant. Let us begin again in love.
I know that you and we are capable of returning to the Book of Life. There is great kindness here. The talent and energy that is drawn forth from people here in the service of compassion is astounding. It matters. If you sent a card, held someone in prayer, brought a meal, showed up to honor someone, sent an encouraging text message, it matters. These acts of kindness add up to sustain bodies and spirits. Save a life, save a world.
What I’m asking here is that this congregation continues to practice compassion. Keep practicing kindness, and may others can follow your example. Offer a kind word to care for someone’s spirit, and let that kindness ripple out to everyone they meet. When covenantal missteps happen, begin again in love. Care for each other so that we have the strength to find creative solutions in the year ahead.
Conclusion
As we support our neighbors and family celebrating the Jewish High Holidays, may the spirit of the season call us back to the idea of starting over, of re-committing to our values, of seeing the big picture of our whole system. The turning seasons may set us in motion, turning over problems to find a new perspective. The rhythms of the days and nights may inspire us to maintain a spiritual practice. The cooler weather may bring us together, in close view of the divinity that we care for in each other. May these changes help us to adapt in life-affirming ways. May we all be written into the Book of Life.
© 2016 Rev. Lyn Cox
RSS Feed
