Breathing  Lessons

Sermon by Rev. Victor Carpenter, Sept. 30,  2007

First Religious Society, Carlisle, Massachusetts

 

 

Once a month I travel from my home in Arlington to Dorchester   to a meeting of  the group  “Dorchester People for Peace”.  I joined the group in the days after  we went to war in Iraq.   I was serving as the Interim minister of the First Parish in Dorchester.  

 

Dorchester People for Peace” came into existence at the beginning of the current Iraq war.    Its initial purpose was to protest the war – and that remains its principal focus – but it has evolved to embrace a number of social causes, all in the name of building a non-military, non-racist society.   The group is multi-racial and multi-religious (including a variety of Christians along with Jews, Muslims and sectarians)

 

The meetings often include speakers with liberal to radical political views; in addition to continuing to protest the war, we   oppose  the presence of military recruiters in public schools and Boston University’s construction of a Level Four Biology Lab (for the study of the most toxic agents) planned for one of the most densely populated section of Boston.   Activities include picketing and leafleting in public places  and demonstrations protesting the continuing war in Iraq.

 

So why do I involve myself in such a group?   Why do I leave my very comfortable home in Arlington to travel (usually by Red Line T) to the mean streets of Dorchester to engage with people  with whom I would not ordinarily come into contact around issues that often escape public notice.

 

My answer can be summed up in one word:  “ oxygen”.   So much of my life is spent traveling well worn narrow, predictable paths; reading the same news in the same papers and journals; meeting with people who think much as I do; people who   are predictable on issues of Dafur or of AIDS in Africa; people who are confused by the issues of Immigration   or grouse with impotent anger about the direction of the Supreme Court.   In short, people who are as in need of spirited, life -giving “oxygen “as I am.

 

These people   are   just like me .      We get along with only a superficial grasp of what’s going on in the world   beyond  our own neighborhood and our own lives,    we  seek  a deeper ,richer  atmosphere  to sustain us , that will fill our spirits and refresh our vision -- I’ve called it “oxygen’. Another word for “hope”…what we all need to live in the world.   

 

I  get my “oxygen” in Dorchester.  Where do you  get yours ?

 

It seems to me that the ministry has a large responsibility in this department.    The ministry  (and this is especially true of the Interim Ministry)  is  called to  provide breathing lessons for   the congregation; to encourage the congregation to take deep breaths, regularly.  

 

Often , and  particularly in times of leadership transition ,  a  congregation doesn’t get sufficient oxygen and the spiritual, social activist lungs start to size up in much the same manner as the lungs of heavy smokers.

 

When that happens it takes an act of courage to “take a deep breath”.  What you take in seems alien – maybe even a bit threatening.  You become so used to taking in just itty-bitty samples of oxygen that a sudden rush of the real stuff and the right stuff   entering your lungs can seem just a bit overwhelming.   intoxicating.

 

So it is with hope.   We have a hard time taking it in.  Our spiritual lungs, unprepared for the rush, can’t adjust to it.  We prefer to think of it as “fantasy” or  “wishful thinking”.

 

Bill Coffin, of  “blessed memory”, of   Riverside Church in Manhattan and master of the one-line zinger said,  “Hope criticizes what is, hopelessness rationalizes it.    Hope resists, hopelessness adapts.”

 

Put it another way: hopelessness rests upon numbness and denial; hope looks to vision and renewal. 

 

I want to share words from the great Irish Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney.

 

History says don’t hope, on this side of the grave,

But then, once in a lifetime,

The longed for tidal wave of justice rises up

And hope and history rhyme.

 

I count myself among the most fortunate because, not once but twice in my own lifetime, I have seen that “tidal wave of justice rise up” and rhyme hope and history.

 

First in South Africa, with the release from prison of Nelson Mandela and the all-but bloodless overthrow of apartheid.

 

I can tell you that during the period I serve the Cape Town church during the 1960s, the hope for the fall of apartheid was the “impossible dream”.   For anyone living inside the “iron cage” of that history, the likelihood of such a reversal was beyond all betting odds.  

 

Even as the political situation slowly began to shift in the 1980’s the hope of a regime change seemed either a pipe dream or a blood bath from which few would escape as the country descended into utter desolation.

 

Yet hope was maintained, by Mandela, long incarcerated on Robbin Island, and others both inside and outside South Africa.   They embodied the best definition of hope that I know: “ hope is believing in spite of the evidence; and then watching the evidence change. “

 

My witness to the second “rising of the tidal wave of Justice that rhymed hope and history” occurred four years ago, here in Massachusetts, when a white woman, herself a native of South Africa and a strong opponent of “apartheid”, now wearing the robes of this state’s Supreme Court, wrote the law that was passed, giving gays and lesbians the right to marry in Massachusetts.

 

  Who knew?    Who anticipated such a thing?    Who could have guessed?

 

  I know for a fact that most if not all lesbian and gay couples never expected the validity of their long relationships ever to be legally honored.   Hope was just too remote.    And then it happened!   Gays and Lesbians in Massachusetts could be legally married!   

 

On the first Saturday after the legislation was passed I performed three weddings (two lesbian couples and one gay couple). 

 

One half of the gay couple was the chairperson of the board of the church I was serving at that time; He had been in a relationship with his partner for twenty-five years.   On the Sunday morning, during the candles of celebration section of the service he lit a candle of joy and said,” I never in my life beloved that one morning I would wake up “ a married man!”

 

 I had been performing “ceremonies of union” for lesbian and gay couples since 1970,  almost forty years ago.       I must confess that while I whole heartedly believed in the rightness of such unions and that they should be granted full legal and spiritual  status and “Marriages”, my hope for such a thing ever  happening was slim indeed.

 

Two years before the passage of the law permitting “marriage equality “ in Massachusetts a UU ministerial colleague Fred Small, over in Littleton, proposed that we clergy refuse to perform heterosexual weddings until the passage of such a law was in affect.  

 

It was a bold challenge to Fred’s brother and sister clergy.    I certainly felt challenged by it!    But I was reminded of my time as minister in South Africa.   During that period  I refused to sign a document stating that I would not, knowingly, provide a marriage ceremony for any couple of mixed races.   Without that  “marriage licensing” I was automatically barred from performing any legal marriage ceremonies.     My refusal was a small gesture  against one of the laws enforcing “apartheid”.   

 

So I “signed on” to Fred’s suggestion  - and expected both a long “wait” and some “flak” from those who would consider my refusal either “empty headed grand-standing” or an implicit violation of my ministerial contract with the congregation I was serving at the time.    Both the charges of “grand-standing” and “contract violation” were delivered; I’m grateful that   my expectation of a “long wait” was not  born out.     I breathed easier.  So did the congregation.

 

When my wife asked me what I planned to preach about and I said “ breath and  hope” she was less than enthusiastic.   “Haven’t you said enough about that?”

 

I replied that you can’t say, “ Enough” about hope; that’s like saying,  “haven’t you breathed enough!”

 

 You can’t breath “enough” or “ hope”enough   or “love” enough.  Although I have to confess that I have attended UU worship services where both hope and breath were in such short supply that I started to look around for an oxygen canister.

 

And frankly this is never more true that at UU memorial services at which the “celebration of life” might be summed up as “ Well, that is that – and that is all!”

I speak of UU memorial services were I seemed like all hope had been sucked out of the room and the assembled congregation along with the deceased had stopped breathing.  

 

At the end of which the gathered throng had nothing to look forward to beyond a cookie being served at the reception in the church basement.

 

I think our responsibility in such circumstances is to breath life and hope into the living as well as to honor those whose breath no longer enlarges and sustains their loved ones.

 

One of my favorite lines of poetry - linking breath to the sacred, the eternal  - appears in our hymn  “O God of Stars and Sunlight”.  “We breathe in thy long breathing,” writes John Holmes; “ our spirits spirited…”

 

Two plus years ago our daughter Gracia died.    Gracia was both autistic and profoundly retarded; she lived in a group home close to us and we were in constant touch with her.  The exact cause of her death  - an imbalance of medication upon which she depended – remains uncertain.  What we do know is that, suddenly, her spirit was spirited from us.

 

Nnothing knock’ the breath out of you like the sudden death of a loved one !

 

For days we were, quite literally, breathless.   It took the ministry of  Carl Scovel, former minister of Kings’s Chapel and dear friend to resusitate us.

 

In his eulogy for Gracia my colleague and dear friend Carl Scovel described Gracia’s life and then   directly addressed the question,” Where is Gracia?  Where has she gone?”   Carl then proceeded to ask if these are the “wrong” questions and, if so, what are the  “right “ questions?     Or “no questions at all” – just the simple resignation to the prose called death???  Just simply saying,” That is that and that is all????””” 

 

Such a brisk dispatch wouldn’t work for me and I was grateful when Carl continued:

 

 “Gracia was body and mind and personality, of course.  And we who loved her loved her in mind, body and personality, of course.   But, to love Gracia was to honor and respect her.

 

  It was to know her within a tradition that tells us that honor and respect are to be accorded the sons and daughters of the eternal; we are the heirs of a transcendent destiny, centered in soul.”

 

Gracia like us was “soul”, one more example of God’s creating - from whose Being she surprised us and to whose Being she has now returned…

 

To love her now 

Is to imagine her journey into transcendence, which is her destiny

And OURS, O Ours as well.”

 

And then Carl concluded with a   passage from the Wisdom of Solomon:

 

The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God

And there shall no torment touch them.

In the sight of the unwise they seem to die,

And there departure from us is taken as misery,

And they’re going from us to be their destruction,

But they are at peace.

For grace and mercy are to the saints,

And God has care for God’s chosen ones.

 

Take a breath.   A deep breath.   Move beyond breathlessness, literally and figuratively.  Know that life, at its deepest and most meaningful,  is unbounded by  both our reason and our imagination.

 

Take a breath;  the breathing lesson is complete.     Amen