Minister's Musings

Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life Study Group

2012-01-23T13:59:00.000-08:00

Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life Study Group

Facilitators: Rev. Susan Karlson, minister of the Unitarian Church of Staten Island, and

Esther Rosado, Director of Lifespan Religious Education are offering a monthly study group on Karen Armstrong's book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life.

Dates: The group will meet First Mondays of the month: March 5, April 2, May 7, June 4, with more dates to be decided.

Location: Community Church of New York, 40 East 35th Street, NY, NY. 6:00 – 8:00 p.m.

Registration: Please contact Esther Rosado by phone 212 683-4988 extension 23 or e-mail erosado@ccny.org to register for the class.

Join our new book discussion group by the noted religious historian and 2011 Ware Lecturer at the Unitarian Universalist General Assembly in Charlotte, NC, Karen Armstrong. We will explore a work by the noted religious historian, Karen Armstrong.

More than a book study group, Karen Armstrong recommends at the end of each group introducing one regular practice into each member’s life “... ways in which your actions can become a dynamic and positive force for change, not just within yourself but in the world around you…

Karen Armstrong believes that while compassion is intrinsic in all human beings, each of us needs to work diligently to cultivate and expand our capacity for compassion. In Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, Armstrong offers concrete ways of putting compassion into action in our everyday lives.

Explore and develop twelve new habits that should be effecting a transformation within yourself and your immediate environment.

Rev. Susan Karlson is the minister of the Unitarian Church of

Staten Island. She is a friend of Community Church of New York

and preaches here during the summer services.

Rev. Karlson co-chairs the Metro New York District Antiracism

and Diversity Committee and is secretary of the Unitarian Universalist

Trauma Response Ministry.

“ Occupying the Place Where We Live—this Season of Hanukkah”

2012-01-02T16:02:00.000-08:00

December 18, 2011

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

Rabbi Michael Lerner is a prolific writer and founder of Tikkun magazine. He wrote about powerful images from Christianity and Judaism at this time of year and how they are relevant to us now in Occupy Hanukkah and Christmas: “The symbolism of a homeless couple who give birth in a manger surrounded by animals because the more comfortable people have not been able to make room for them inside a roofed home is, like the candles lit on Hanukkah to celebrate the victory of the powerless over the powerful, a powerful reminder that both Judaism born of slaves in Egypt and Christianity born of a movement of the poor and powerless, were in their times the "Occupy" movement that confronted the powerful and those who served them.”

We are in trouble in this country and it’s not just the income inequality, the unemployment, the decimation of our schools, the erosion of workers rights, the industrialization of health care or the impasse on immigration. It’s much deeper than these “issues.”

When I saw the sign in front of Judson Memorial Church that read, “Occupy Wall Street isn’t just a jobs issue, or a bank issue, or a health care issue, or even an immigration issue. It’s a spiritual issue about what has happened to the United States”, I felt that “aha” of recognition, that little shiver down the spine that tells you that some profound truth has just gotten through the morass of synapses in the brain.

I was not among those who immediately took to the Occupy movement. At first I thought it too alienating, too demonizing of those in the upper 1% as if the wealthiest all are demagogues that we should distrust and despise. As much as I wanted to believe in a movement that would focus on what is broken and battered in this country, as much as I wanted to see this country’s young adults and allies find common cause as they have in countries throughout the Middle East since last spring, I didn’t see Occupy Wall Street as that movement.

To be honest, I think I started to come around when I saw the blog, “I am the 1%. I stand with the 99%”, a source for one of our readings this morning Then I heard about the Council of Elders (the leaders of my generation’s struggle for justice) who passed the torch to the Occupy movement. I learned of Occupy Faith, a broad-based interfaith group that stands in solidarity as allies, to sing, pray, serve, and lead worship for the Occupiers.

I get it. This is a non-violent movement that can focus our attention on what has gone so badly here at a deeper psycho-spiritual level. The critiques of Occupy Wall Street and our fledgling efforts with Occupy Staten Island, meeting at this church for about the past month, point out that people are not unified; they are split about what’s important. That sounds familiar—how do you come to consensus in any organization with fiercely independent people who are motivated to create change and are sometimes desperate to right the inequalities and the injustice so easily discernible all around us?

Talking about the idealism of Occupy Wall Street with a good friend, we agreed that it might be hard to resist the pull of complacency if we were to win the lottery and became part of the 1 %. Would we join the “We are the 1%. We stand with the 99%”? Would we live out our ideals? Would we sell out or give it all away?

I yearn for a world where compassion is at the core of our lives. Not the sappy, cotton candy compassion but the real challenging, gut wrenching Compassion that Karen Armstrong writes about in her book, Twelve Steps to A Compassionate Life . Her understanding coming from digging into the world’s religions, particularly Judaism, Christianity and Islam,is not bleeding heart liberalism. To have compassion is to understand what motivates us deep down, what inspires us to see beyond categories, class distinctions, racial divides, and all the thousands of ways we choose to segregate ourselves from others.

Compassion is about peering into an analysis of our own world-view while keeping an openness to explore those of others whose views may be quite contrary to our own. It’s a way to reach beyond where we are today to where we could be as a society if we saw an alternate vision. But it’s not easy or simple. Tikkun olam, healing the brokenness in the world, is a calling. It doesn’t just happen. And it starts within our own beating heart.

Rabbi Michael Lerner’s question intrigues me. He clarifies this assuredly “spiritual issue” when he writes, “Ask people how they imagine their society would be different if the original messages of Hanukkah or Christmas were being taken seriously today. Would the rabbis who said that the central command of Torah was to "love your neighbor as yourself" and "love the stranger," or would Jesus of Nazareth, our great Jewish teacher who Christians embraced as their messiah, be outraged at a society that celebrated these holidays but turned its back on the poor and the powerless?”

Hanukkah is based on the revolt of the Maccabees—a family who’d had enough!; enough constraints on their freedom to practice their religion; enough of a takeover of their Temple; enough of the Greco Syrian Empire meddling in their lives. So they revolted and against all odds, they won. They overthrew an Empire. But the Maccabees then became the powerful and the corrupt—the very characteristics and actions they deplored in the Greeks they took on themselves.

And that is always a possibility if respect, compassion, deep listening and open mindedness are thrown out; if we forget the spiritual issues at the root of our brokenness. So we come back to that central question—what is the place you occupy right now in your life? How goes it with your conscience, with the way you live your life? And with how you relate to the whole 100% traveling on this earth with you?

And what is the place you want to occupy this year? You may not go to Liberty Park. You may not attend any meetings here in the church that hosts Occupy Staten Island but we are all part of this spiritually broken nation. How will you occupy your life? How will you honor a new inclusive vision of a country with peace, justice, and freedom for all?

Earlier we sang in the Occupy spirit, that was present in the Jewish revolts, “Have we come this far always believing that justice would somehow prevail? And this is the burden and this is the promise and this is why we will not fail.”

Martin Luther King made famous the words of Unitarian minister, Theodore Parker, “the moral arc of the universe is long but it bends toward justice”—this is why we will not ultimately fail. May it be so.

“This Little Light of Mine”—As Winter Draws Near

2012-01-02T15:30:00.000-08:00

December 11, 2011

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

In Celtic lore, there is a proverbial war between the Oak King and the Holly King. Battling all year long, these two vie more fiercely as the Winter and Summer Solstices approach.

The Holly King often appears like Santa Claus, dressed in red from head to toe but with a bit of holly adorning his locks of hair with a familiar team of eight “stags” instead of reindeer. He is the lord of the dark.

His nemesis, the Oak King, the monarch of the forest and the bearer of the Light, adorned in Green, bests the Holly King during the Winter turning of the wheel and reigns until the Summer Solstice when the Holly King regains the upper hand. Their constant friction simulates the waxing and waning of winter and summer, the battle between the elements of light and darkness. http://paganwiccan.about.com/od/yulethelongestnight/ss/Yule_Log.htm

Light and Dark: The perpetual struggle between the Oak and Holly kings reflects strife between those parts of ourselves that we honor and the shadow side that we prefer to keep hidden from view. These two dimensions are part of our unconscious that feud and fester as we strive to discount the Shadow and embrace the Light.

Conflict ensues when we resist owning the Dark and the Light sides of ourselves. We fight against nature’s instinct to hunker down and be quieter during the winter season. We may even snicker at our mammalian cousins and the fish that sink to the bottom of the pond to avoid freezing at the surface of the water. We feel a little superior since we can use our big brains to adapt to most weather conditions. We are resourceful beings indeed.

Some folks come alive in the winter—the brisk cold wakens them as if they have been somnolent during the summer and fall. Others, I would be one of them, just want to stay under the covers, keeping warm by the fire, eating nourishing soups and stews, and sipping hot tea.

Those like me have a most uncanny desire to best winter like the Oak King, to be done with it (other than perhaps pretty sprinklings of snow at this season). How does the Oak King within embrace the darkness, warm up to our Holly King side?

In Star Trek episodes, a certain group of people called the Borgs lived in colonies very similar to bees. Others outside the collective were assimilated. They were told, “resistance is futile”. I know resisting winter is futile. Winter’s chill will win out for a while—the Holly King will have his six-month reign from summer to the beginning of winter as the daylight dwindles. So how can the Oak King part of us embrace the Dark, learn from it, “not wish it away”?

The Rev. Meg Riley refers to finding hope amidst the “dark energy” in her most recent column for the Church of the Larger Fellowship. She writes, “In the darkness we sense there is something new we need to see, and we fumble for the match to light the candle. In that impulse—the desire to see and the fumbling for light—is the birth of hope. Finding hope takes place in darkness, and the hope we find becomes light when we are moved to share it with each other” (Quest, p. 6, December 2011 issue)

There is another aspect to claiming both the Dark and the Light—it has to do with the ways we use language to depict all things “dark” as sinister or evil while the “light” is associated with the good, heavenly, and positive. I first really thought about this when I read Jacqui James’ Dark and Light, Light and Dark.

James writes, “Welcome darkness. Don't be afraid of it or deny it. Darkness brings relief from the blinding sun, from scorching heat, from exhausting labor. Night signals permission to rest, to be with our loved ones, to conceive new life, to search our hearts, to remember our dreams. The dark of winter is a time of hibernation. Seeds grow in the dark, fertile earth.

The words black and dark don't need to be destroyed or ignored, only balanced and reclaimed in their wholeness. The words white and light don't need to be destroyed or ignored, only balanced and reclaimed in their wholeness. Imagine a world that had only light -- or dark. We need both. Dark and light. Light and dark.”

The legends of old encourage us to look at the Dark and the Light in our world. The creative impulses, the gifts of the unconscious that Carl Jung touted, also foster looking at the Shadow, the Dark side which is the repository of inspiration, invention, and intuition. Our language, left brain in nature, indicates that we should choose the Light over Dark. Our language patterns emphasize an institutional racist bifurcation as well. There is no wholeness when we fail to embrace the Dark, the Shadow side, the Holly king of winter.

The festivals of light prevalent across the religious spectrum, whatever their intentions and deepest aspirations, are ways that humans observe the natural passages from season to season. We borrow from our ancient ancestors, the Celts, the Romans, Greeks and the Egyptians with Yule logs, tree decorations, festivities, dances, gift-giving and general merrymaking though we seldom feel the connection to these ancient roots.

These celebrations prepare us for the drop in temperatures, the period where we are more prone to reflection and incubating the creative forces that will be born later during the springtime of the year. These passages also bring us closer together through time-honored celebrations and messages about the light even as darkness gathers around us.

Yule Log celebrations can include a time for contemplating the year almost over. In the dark with only the Yule Log blazing, family members can consider the challenges of the past year as well as its blessings. Here during our celebration, take some time to reflect on the bitter winter challenges and the sweet tasting blessings of your year and consider if you want to share them out loud in a few moments.

Time for reflection

I invite you now to call out in a word or phrase the Holly or Oak king blessings, life changing adventures or challenges that have shaped your life this year as I add a sprig of evergreen to our Yule Log for each element called out.

Sharing and Sprigs of evergreen

In ten days, the wheel will turn; the sun will be returning to offer more light and more warmth to our earth; the Oak King will be ascendant. Though the cold and the dark remains for many months, enveloping us in quietude and bringing us a sense of peace and serenity, the hopes, aspirations, visions, and the light we possess inside is ever green, ever warm, ever promising.

May the dark within bring you rest, contemplation, peace and a place to “search your heart” and follow your truest vision. May the light within grow in strength and beauty as the sun warms and nurtures the earth and all its inhabitants. May you find balance in your life this Winter Solstice and carry it out to the world in all you do.

"A Soul Filled With Light—Bodhi Day"

2012-01-02T15:27:00.000-08:00

December 4, 2011

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

The new Martin Scorsese film, Hugo, is an amazing story about an orphan boy who lives in a train station and is fascinated with machines and how things work. At one point Hugo tells a young friend, “I’d imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn’t be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason.”

I like Hugo’s fantasy and his philosophical take on his purpose in life. I don’t think any of us is a useless cog. We have meaning and purpose. Life sometimes seems impossible and challenging as well as extraordinary and magical.

Hugo tried to make sense of life and find something good even as an orphan in Paris, in a world still recovering from the War to End All Wars. Each of us does this when we encounter something that trips us up, when we can’t understand the forces at work in our lives.

The Buddha was not always the Buddha, the enlightened one. He started off, like all people, as a child, a princely child but a child nonetheless. He spent most of his life analyzing and discovering the causes of suffering once he escaped the palace that was his prison, the palace that kept him away from any awareness of illness, old age or death.

This is the second worship service we’ve had around the theme of Bodhi Day. Though it is a minor holiday in Buddhism, it comes at the time of year when the light is waning and sorely missed—when darkness pierces the earth like an icy blade. We need the celebrations of light as a reflection of the light within, as a meditation on the need for stillness when the cold chills our spirits.

Three religious actors come to my mind in this season. There’s Siddhartha, the Buddha, born a prince, definitely one of the one percent of his day. Look what he did with his life. In his thirst for the root of happiness, he developed a roadmap past the causes of human suffering to a shore bounded by equanimity, compassion, loving kindness, and empathetic joy.

The Maccabees, a family band of rebels, wrested power from the Greek principalities that desecrated the Jewish Temple and subjugated a people. Funny thing: after the rededication of the Temple, power corrupted the rebels and they became more like those they overthrew. Their story is a cautionary tale reflecting the need for a pervasive analysis of institutions, justice seeking and moral purpose, especially at this time when the need for change in our society is so starkly apparent and we are moved to act.

Jesus of Nazareth, born into the lower working class, son of a carpenter, an immigrant whose family had to flee to Egypt. Jesus, one destined to be called the Prince of Peace, radical in his message about the need for social justice and empowerment.

As incredible as these religious figures are, their stories will always be retold because their lives reveal something critical about the human dilemma; how we metabolize our trials and sorrows, how we occupy positions both powerful and lowly, and how on earth to understand our life’s purpose here and now. Deep down we know we are not an “extra part.”

The Buddha taught about the breath as a vehicle of being truly present. I understood more abut the significance of the breath when I recently visited a couple who were distraught and in pain. They had already learned deep breathing but forgot it in the middle of their difficult life situation. As soon as we practiced a few breaths, they felt more at ease, harmonious, and able to cope.

I wrote some phrases they could repeat to themselves that come from a Buddhist practice called the Four Brahmaviharas—“May I be safe from inner and outer harm. May I be free from fear. May I be happy and peaceful. May I be healthy and strong. May I live life with ease. May I take care of myself.” These same phrases can be directed to others that need care or concern or to all living beings.

The wisdom of the Buddha was to simply be in this moment now—this moment now with all its pain or pleasure, tears or laughter, expectations, hopes, disappointments, and dreams. This moment now—that enfolds us all as we breathe this breath and the next one.

Think of the two quotes by Ajaan Lee Dhammadhoro from our meditation. The first one reveals how the breath spreads through the body and links the body like a myriad of roads intersecting through the wilderness. “Any country with a good system of roads is bound to develop, because communication is easy.”

Here in this church, in the wider community, all across the world, people are burdened with real and serious concerns: the death of someone they loved who was well the week before, the steady decline of someone who is not the same person they were before the illness set in, the disappointing family holiday that seemed so promising, the thousand aches and pains that won’t go. Others relish the festivities just past, anticipating more to come, not wanting the joy to end.

If the breath is like a superhighway, it can connect us to a wellspring of resilience and peace inside. Not that we make light of the grief and hardship that life brings. The breath and being mindful of what’s going on inside and around us, is a reminder of a connection to something more profound that each of us possesses, the knowledge that we are “…here for a reason.

The second image Ajaan Lee Dhammadhoro uses is that of a person sitting in a boat in the middle of the sea in which the waves are the breath, the boat is mindfulness and the person in the boat is the mind. To have confidence and be at peace even in the deepest waters entails stilling the mind and watching the breath.

Hugo found comfort in a fantasy—that the whole world was one big machine and that he had a part to play. The question is not really if we are an extra, unnecessary part—it is really; How will we play the part we are given? Will we find the center of gravity that allows us to see from a vantage point higher and clearer with the breath able to take us to a mindful place, a place of quiet repose even when turmoil seems to be our closest kin? Can we be mindful of the ruminations in our minds that set us adrift on a fitful sea and just observe ourselves in the midst of the storm?

The Buddha demonstrated the way to do this. As a lifetime teacher, he was adept at speaking the language of his students, wherever they came from, whoever they may have been. We honor him as Bodhi Day approaches, thankful for the gifts of wisdom and peace he offered, grateful still for his presence in our world today.

Are We "Cheering for an Invisible Parade" or more like "Wingless Chickens": The Spiritual Writings of Flannery O'Connor

2012-01-02T15:02:00.000-08:00

This sermon was inspired by a challenging sermon topic prompted by Kate Howard. Kate bid and won a sermon topic of her choice, a popular auction item in many Unitarian Universalist congregations. Kate chose "The Spiritual Writings of Flannery O'Connor, a Southern Catholic whose writings goaded Kate to deeper reflection in graduate school. I, too, heard of Flannery O'Connor in a Church History class at Wesley Theological Seminary and Kate and I formed a good team in offering this service in October of 2011. I am grateful to Kate and to Flannery O'Connor for helping me reflect on the presence of sin, grace and the core theologies that shape us.

November 6, 2011

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

Flannery O’Connor used characters in her novels and short stories that seem ridiculous, smug; it’s easy to cast them down since we presume ourselves to be more enlightened than they are. Yet she pushes us to recognize a bit of flawed humanity in each of them and within ourselves.

O’Connor wrote, "It is easy to see that the moral sense has been bred out of certain sections of the population like the wings have been bred off of certain chickens to produce more white meat on them. This is a generation of wingless chickens, which I suppose is what Nietzsche meant when he said 'God is dead'." I want to contrast that with the reading about peacocks—how they lift their tails and their voice simultaneously. To some, their call seems sad; to others, “hysterical” but for her, it “always sounded like a cheer for an invisible parade.”

Flannery O’Connor lived most of her life in rural Georgia. She suffered from the auto-immune disorder, Lupus. Wracked with physical pain, her strong Catholic faith carried her through.

Most of her stories are violent and volcanic, about people who struggle against temptation and contradictions in their character. As Kate, the woman who suggested this sermon topic, said, Flannery O’Connor felt most at home with evangelists and fundamentalists rather than those who identify with religion experienced as a sociological study or as personality-based phenomenon. She believed that all of us were sinners and at the same time all could be recipients of grace, unmerited redemption and transformation.

Her stories are populated with people who display their racism, arrogance and classism in their revealed private thoughts and in dialogue with other people. Reading her stories, I often feel a kind of revulsion—my immediate reaction is shock— “I can’t believe he or she just did that—how disgusting!”

And yet, listen to the street preacher Onnie Jay Holy, who is looking to make a dollar preaching about the Church of Christ Without Christ that has a whole new Jesus, who claims that every person has “a little bundle of sweetness” inside that gets pushed down as life happens, “when it could be on the outside to win friends and make him loved.”

I recognize some of my own naïve leanings in Onnie Jay’s words. I like to think that humans have the proclivity and free will to act on the side of justice, love and compassion in spite of my wholesale experiences with the side of people more prone to evil action.

In Los Angeles during the late seventies, I worked with the Judicially Committed Persons Program, a halfway house for those who often committed horrific acts but were judged to be “not guilty by reason of insanity”.

It was my job to testify in court whether I thought they would re-offend or not. I spent many sleepless nights pondering the impact of my clinical judgment on society. When I began that job, I entered with a philosophy that all of us make mistakes; some of us just make bigger mistakes than others. Many of the men I worked with had serious mental illnesses; a few were sociopaths. I learned an enormous amount then about evil human actions and depravity—what O’Connor would undoubtedly term “sin” or John Newton’s song, “Amazing Grace”, would call “wretchedness.”

Later, I worked with a program for children, adults and families who were survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Here I saw the devastation wreaked on whole families and the results years later in the groups I facilitated for Adults Molested As Children. When I accompanied children to testify in court I listened as defense attorneys belittled the children who had been abused. I knew those attorneys, some with children of their own, were doing their job but I wondered how they slept at night knowing sometimes that their clients were guilty as “sin.”

I tell these stories because my early social work career transformed my understanding of the complicated nature of evil and sin. Survivors, offenders, non-offending parents, I knew them as more than their case files. Like John Newton’s realization of his own wretchedness as part of the slave trade, leading ultimately to him writing “Amazing Grace”, I had to ask myself challenging questions with no easy answers—where did the evil actions come from that claimed the souls of those little abused children? How could someone torture another living person like that? What was my role in this real life reality show?

Decades later, I don’t have concrete answers like John Newton and Flannery O’Connor. I know that the people represented by both characters, Onnie Jay Holy and Hazel Moates, only have partial perspectives. If there is this “little rosebud of sweetness” in each of us, there is also this little thistle of callousness, selfishness and greed there as well. We are a composite—saints with hard crusted kernels of ill will and temptation, sinners laden with the seedlings of possibility and hope.

O’Connor wrote, “At its best, our age is an age of searchers and discoverers, and at its worst, an age that has domesticated despair and learned to live with it happily. . . The sense of mystery vanishes”.

When Kate and I talked about this worship service, we spoke about her experience last spring talking to the photographer for the church photo directory. He told her how he had gone to another Unitarian Universalist congregation and placed a cross beside his computer. He was told to take that cross down and so he assumed Unitarian Universalists were against Christianity.

This anecdotal story bears closer scrutiny. As Unitarian Universalists aren’t we about something other than dividing people into labels by their theology? Isn’t this congregation and its purpose in our lives and on Staten Island and as citizens of the world about something far more important than putting people in boxes like conservative or liberal; or Christian, Theist, Humanist, Atheist, Agnostic or Pagan?

O’Connor is clear how being a Catholic informs her writing and her entire life. She has dug deep into her own received beliefs. Can we say the same? Next Sunday, we begin the lay sermon series on Unitarian Universalism from various perspectives. Do those services conflict with what I just said about moving beyond keeping people stuck in neatly labeled boxes?

Not at all. We have a broad net that we cast, as exemplified in the Sources of Wisdom from which Unitarian Universalism draws, its importance manifested in its placement in the front of the hymnal. We don’t define this church by the numbers of members who identify with a certain core belief. We are not here to change each other’s minds but to enlarge our own. Are we like “wingless chickens” bred to throw out every religious thought that does not resonate with that of our own making?

Not by a long shot. Here, we create a place where respect for each vision is held higher than dogma; and an inquisitive mind is more precious than certainty. This may run counter to O’Connor’s certainty about the redemptive saving grace of Jesus but we are all in an “invisible parade.” This parade in which we are marching, marching is the Peacock’s siren call; it is the Mystery itself and it involves deeper and deeper religious exploration over the course of our whole lives. Let us cheer for that!

"Slogging Through the Mangroves: Whose Are We Anyway?"

2011-10-26T19:36:00.000-07:00

A Story For All Ages

A Visit From Josephine Shaw Lowell

Alan Kindler introduces the time field generator that takes the congregation back to 1895, the year the existing Unitarian Church of Staten Island sanctuary was dedicated. We selected this time in the hope of hearing from Josephine Shaw Lowell what the Unitarian Church of Staten Island means to her.

*Note: this is an imaginary talk that Josephine Shaw Lowell could have given to the Unitarian Church of Staten Island based on materials and books about her and her family's life.

http://www.library.csi.cuny.edu/dept/history/lavender/386/shaw.html

The Story of A Small Church: The Unitarian Church of Staten Island 1852-1977 by Horace Colpitts

Good morning. My name is Josephine Shaw Lowell, better known in this church as Effy. I speak to you this morning as you dedicate this new sanctuary about how much this church means—has always meant, will always mean, to so many.

My parents, Francis George and Sarah Blake Sturgis Shaw were among the founding members of this church. My sisters and I moved to Staten Island when I was twelve years old. I loved riding horses. This church was like a second home for us.

My brother, the late Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, was educated off this Island but he always wanted to come back to Staten Island. He and my husband, Charles Russell Lowell, died in the War Between the States. I worked on the battlefield tending the wounded men until my Charles died just a short while before our daughter, Carlotta, was born.

Here is where I learned what it meant to be a Unitarian and a leader when I served on the Board of Trustees. My sister Anna was more dedicated, serving as President of the Board for 16 years. Any of you who ever served as president know how much this church means to our family by virtue of her years of service. This church holds an unparalleled place in my heart and surely, it must in your hearts as well because you are here in this lovely sanctuary, with this rose window, saved from the winds that blew down the previous church building.

My family always had plenty of money but our parents educated us to care about other people and to work hard to insure that everyone has access to a decent life. After my husband died, Carlotta and I moved back to Staten Island to live with my parents. It was difficult after losing my brother and husband but I put my energy into doing good things. I assume that is why you all are here as well—to make the world a better place where people are free, to learn, question and grow together. That is part of the Unitarian faith I will always love.

Later, I went to Virginia to start schools with the Freedman’s Association for children who had been denied an education because of the color of their skin. I reported the bad conditions of women in prison and the abuses of those in institutions because they are poor or suffer from mental illness. I helped get benefits for children and widows and legislated for those who were not allowed to “speak for themselves”.

New York Governor Tilden appointed me as the first woman Commissioner of the New York State Board of Charities. I always believed that we must do more than give a hand out to those living in poverty; we must look to the root causes of poverty, hunger and joblessness. We need to create work places that are safe and just, where women workers receive fair treatment and compensation.

So I established the New York Charity Organization, the House of Refuge for Women and I am considering making a list of stores that treat women workers well. It’s a short list now but I hope that it will grow as people understand the importance of equality for women.

You see, I am here today because I first learned about equality, justice, respect and compassion from my family and this church. This Church of the Redeemer, this Unitarian Church on Staten Island, is more than the building we occupy and dedicate today. It is steeped in this kind of service and concern for the many, not just the few. May this church, my church, our church, continue for hundreds of years more!

"Slogging Through the Mangroves: Whose Are We Anyway?"

October 23, 2011

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

This summer my sweetheart, Alan, and I visited our good friends in St. Pete’s Beach, Florida. After several days of rain and museum hopping, we glided out on the water behind their house and ventured into the mangrove swamps with our kayaks, single file. Russ suggested we place our paddle vertically alongside the kayak in the narrowest part of the mangroves because it wouldn’t fit horizontally. We could just grasp hold of the mangroves to pull ourselves through those shallow, narrow lanes.

“Okay,” I thought, “how hard can that be?” but my heart started racing and when I reached out to pull myself along, black crabs scurried their way along, blending in beautifully beside the brackish muddy water and the bent branches of the mangroves. So I checked in with my mind and emotions—“how long could this last?” Surely, not long! What seemed like an hour later, we emerged, only to go a short distance and round another narrow passageway with more of the same.

Alan and my friend, Russ, paced themselves and enjoyed the ride. Alan even dreamed of a full moon paddle in the mangroves. Russ and I didn’t sign on for that. After five hours kayaking, probably 1/3 of which was in the mangrove swamps, we made our way back to the dock. Though I wanted to just get back to the house, there was nowhere to go except forward. It was a challenging experience for me—my arms ached, my nerves shook, I got irritable even in this beautiful wilderness environment.

I wondered during and after this slog through the mangroves, what made me so fearful. I reflected on other traumatic crises in my life, such as the days in childhood when a relative scared me into believing I would drown. Ever since, I have had to fight my way through that fear to enjoy snorkeling or kayaking, to love being in the ocean as much as I love being beside it.

Ultimately, at moments like this, I return to the questions people have been asking since the first moments of conscious reverie of humankind—what is the foundation of my existence? What brings me to this moment now? How can I emerge from this place more grounded and steeped in my purpose? Where do I turn when I’m shaken to my core?

But there was an even more powerful experience in my childhood. Lying alone in my room one night, I felt a presence that remains with me even now. There were no words, no burning bushes, no scrolls to swallow—only this pervading sense of peace, of something that was always available, that would never leave me (though I could choose to ignore it). It is that Presence that I understand as God, though that name is too limiting and small a descriptor. Even at such a young age, I felt that I was not singled out, that this Presence was like the air we breathe—inside us, around us, all pervasive.

Last month I served as a Disaster Chaplain at the 9/11 Memorial in the week after it opened to the public. Red Cross and Disaster Chaplains were on hand to be a presence, a witness in case people needed to talk or felt overwhelmed. No matter what others may think about the Memorial and its usefulness or its opulence, I have to say that I again experienced something of the holy that day.

A little background: There is a fountain carved out of rock that rests in our Memorial Garden here at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island. We saw images of creating that fountain during the Memorial Garden Anniversary worship service last week. That fountain is dedicated to Richard Myhre, the son-in-law of two of our members. While at the 9-11 Memorial I looked his name up in the listings and I saw his photo and where his name could be found in the North Pool. I made a rubbing of his name. And I thought of his son who was so young when his father died.

I looked down at the seemingly bottomless pools where the water cascades continuously, relentlessly, powerfully and it seemed to speak to me of the womb from which we all come and of a cavernous sorrow, almost too much to bear sometimes, that engulfs us when we lose someone we love, when we lose a dream that we’ve long cherished. It evokes both the beginning and ending of Life, but not the beginning or end of Love.

There in that place, I again felt the presence of that which is so much greater than this small personality. I felt touched by something so vast, so universal that I have known before, that many know as the high and low ebbs of life—something so powerful, so binding, so intense that we yearn to find it again.

It is “that-which-cannot-be-named” in the Jewish teachings that is also part of the Sources of Unitarian Universalism. It is our own name writ large that connects us to one another and holds us together even when we have forgotten who we are, whose we are; even if we have lost the threads of our ancestors—we are still “…tied in a single garment of destiny” as Dr. King said.

We are reminded of the ancestors beyond ancestors and the descendants, too—the connecting thread at the heart of Unitarian Universalism, at the core of this faith that will not let me go, that may not let you go no matter how much we get disappointed or disillusioned with life, with the greed and violence that shatters our society.

The water element in our Memorial Garden fountain, the bottomless cascading pools at the 9-11 Memorial, that narrow and twisted mangrove swamp bring me back to those eternal questions we ask ourselves when the fathomless and unanswerable is before us: “whose am I?”, and in the collective, “whose are we?”.

“Whose are we anyway” when we are up against a wall, panicky or disoriented about the direction of our lives, our country, our church, or our families?

A quote from Josephine Shaw Lowell, one of the 19^th century mothers of this church, seems as relevant now with the deepening unrest and concern over our troubled economy and erosion of democracy decried by Occupy Wall Street and other movements around the globe. In her opposition “to both the Spanish-American and Philippine-American wars” of her time, she said "We paid a bitter price to free ourselves from the sin of slavery, and the nation will again pay a bitter price to free itself from the sin of empire, if, driven by fear of financial distress or lured by hope of wealth, it now deserts its ancient ideals."

Unitarian Universalists hold no common theological beliefs—we are all over the map. What ancient ideals then bring us together? What is it that holds us together when the ocean of sorrow cascades upon us; when the disparity in our country wrenches our hearts; when the one place we felt we always belonged seems to have changed and it’s not our home anymore?

Though we come from different theological vantage points, we share some common landmarks that tie us through history to people of action who moved the wheel of justice and liberal religion forward. I see the Divine in that, in our ethical principles, and in our willingness to question both our society and ourselves. There is something to grasping the gnarly branches of the mangrove that will move us forward though we don’t know how long it will take or how difficult the journey. We move the wheel of justice and transformative growth forward in our own time and place. Not simply alone but together.

Whose are we? Our answers will differ but perhaps we share one perspective— that we belong to one another, that we are connected on this earth that is our “Blue Boat Home.” As Peter Mayer sings, “drifting here with my ship’s companions, all we kindred pilgrim souls, the wide universe is the ocean I travel, and the earth is my blue boat home.”

We are all on this excursion together, joined through the imprint we make on those we leave behind. May our gifts include a vast reservoir of kindness and an awareness of how linked together we are—just like Josephine Shaw Lowell and the generations of Unitarian and Universalist do-ers before us. May it ever be so.

Community Church Tea on SEWA Bharat, Delhi, India

2011-10-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

October Social Tea

Tuesday
October 25 2-3:30 PM

Join us for our guest speaker and light refreshments.

Rev. Susan Karlson

Minister at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island

Co-chair of the Metro New York District's AntiRacism and Diversity Committee

Secretary of the Unitarian Universalist Trauma Response Ministry

Last fall, the Rev. Susan Karlson and her family visited with SEWA Bharat in Delhi. SEWA Bharat is one of the Unitarian Universalist Association's Holdeen partners. Susan met some of the women empowered to get a fair wage and market for their exquisite handicrafts. She also met the young women learning different kinds of design and receiving training through SEWA as well as visiting the classrooms. Let's have tea together, watch a short dvd about this empowering movement for women in India and other places throughout the world and celebrate the threads that connect us through Unitarian Universalism's international programs.

Susan has been a guest preacher at Community Church on several occasions and welcomes this opportunity to talk about a moving experience of women's empowerment and the struggles for justice worldwide.

Please RSVP to Esther Rosado at erosado@ccny.org

or call 212-683-4988, ext. 23.

We hope you will be able to join us!

Invite friends too!

Thank you for your interest in the activities at Community Church. Should you wish to be removed from our e-mail lists, please contact Valerie Lynch by phone or email vlynch@ccny.org or click on "SafeUnsubscribe" below.

The Community Church of New York Unitarian Universalist
40 East 35th St

New York, NY 10016

212-683-4988

www.ccny.org

post by Jim Smith at blog.silive.com about Kevin and Miguel's marriage at the Unitarian church of Staten Island

2011-10-21T10:11:00.000-07:00

See Jim Smith's beautiful blog about Kevin and Miguel's wedding which took place last Saturday on October 15th:
http://blog.silive.com/gaylesbianlife/2011/10/kevin_and_miguel_are_married.html

"Immigration As A Moral Issue"

2011-10-03T19:06:00.000-07:00

Unitarian Church of Staten Island

September 18, 2011

This sermon is dedicated to the Rev. Dr. Jeremy Taylor, community minister, dreamweaver, colleague and friend, who has inspired my ministry and journey toward wholeness for 14 years with his "if it were my dream" approach to dream work. Blessings to him in his life journey and his ministry of love and wholeness.

I had a dream the other night about otherness. Many of my dreams take place at a retreat or conference and I know from this epiphany what the dream has come to teach me. In this dream, some wise women speak, saying, “go to other rooms and experience what it means to be “the other”, the stranger, the one who feels marginalized.”

In the waking world, when I am feeling “different”, I just want to escape those feelings, to turn my back on those other people whom I perceive are rejecting me. In turn, to ward off the pain, I reject them. This is a pattern our psyches take that is difficult to see in action. I try not to enact this pattern but sometimes my fears get the best of me.

Unitarian Universalists often take some pride in being open, inclusive and welcoming. But perhaps that makes it more difficult for us to realize that we, too, make people into “the other”. In the case of immigration, we know who the “bad guys” are, don’t we? Well, sometimes, we make assumptions. It’s the conservative politicians who oppose justice and equity. It’s the border patrol agents who pour out the water bottles left for parched souls or the ones who hunt each immigrant crossing the desert, pregnant, sick, dying of thirst. It’s the ICE officials or the immigration officials. Maybe, our image of them is that they have no mercy or compassion in their hearts at all.

Though Unitarian Universalism calls us to see the inherent worth and dignity of every person, it’s easy to vilify people who can be seen as standing on the side opposing love. And if we hear the very real human stories like Ravi’s (Ravi works with the New Sanctuary Coalition in New York City) and Norma’s (Norma is a member of the New York State Leadership Youth Council) and we work with immigrants or our friends are immigrants or we simply read the news, we might get a little puffed up, that we are the ones standing on the side of love—while “others” are not.

This really came home to me when my clergy colleagues and I met with various rather conservative elected officials about our concerns for those living in poverty and the treatment of immigrants. I am not sure that those politicians changed their minds but there was an openness to really listen and to welcome our input. And frankly, it shocked me. We may not share views on scarcely any issue but I needed to meet them personally and not get my impressions solely through the media or hearsay, not to deny their humanity. This is a spiritual practice I return to over and over again.

I began thinking about a tendency among religious liberals to hang out only with those who agree with us on specific issues. It’s easier to be in dialogue with those who think, feel and act as we do but how does anything ever change if we only count our friends as those who are exactly like us?

And so it is with Immigration as a moral issue. For myself, I need to hear from our friends like those from El Centro del Inmigrante what they are facing. I need to feel my heart break for Norma whose parents could be deported or Ravi whose child watches her father humiliated and handcuffed with no idea when it could happen again.

And then, one of my dear colleagues faces deportation at any moment. He is a colleague who spoke at this church. He has brought understanding, peace and harmony among factions in this community. And yet, he may be forced to leave for no reason. He is not an “other”—I know him, I have prayed with him. I have heard him speak under the light of candles, I have known his pain and his joy and heard his wise, compassionate counsel. It’s hard not to demean those that I perceive are doing this to him, to all of us on Staten Island that need his presence and his love. Yet it is not “others” who are doing this—it is the immigration system that is in sore need of repair.

It is the system and people’s actions within that system that is reprehensible, that tears families asunder, that has few compassionate provisions for the human family. It is the racial, economic, social, religious and political gatekeepers that act on that system’s behalf to keep out certain immigrants from specific countries whose governments we oppose while letting in a plethora from countries whose governments and dictators we support (at least for a time).

In Death of Josseline are stories of those that cry out to us for justice and the stories of those doling out the injustices. I ask myself as part of my spiritual practice, “Can I see the fear and the concerns that the “unjust” have in their hearts? Do they fear losing a job, a way of life? Do they fear becoming “an other”?” I need to hear their stories, too.

I am not saying that all views are equal. They are not. You heard that clearly in our Call to Community when the president of the Unitarian Universalist Association, the Rev. Peter Morales, held up the difference between legal and moral rights.

A thorough understanding of all sides of the issues will not negate the need for comprehensive immigration reform; likely the commitment will be greater. I believe in the non-violent compassionate and empathic approaches of Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Cesar Chavez, in the faith that sustained them no matter what happened to them or those that labored alongside them in the fields of justice and human rights. Deep down this is a moral struggle. Don’t each of us know what is “wrong”, legal or not? We are strengthened through our moral and spiritual integrity when we stand for immigrant’s rights, acting in solidarity with and accountability to people of color who have been oppressed since the founding of this country, or the many who are immigrants from countries still crippled by colonization. We need not be apologetic or conditional about that solidarity, whatever form it takes.

There are broader moral issues—I may be conditioned to turn adversaries and opponents into an “other”. Even more, deep in my heart and soul, I believe that I am called to take the anger I feel and transform it into love and justice. When someone we love—our children, our partners, those closest to us—infuriate us, we still love them. How can we acknowledge the anger we feel and change it into something that makes our communities more harmonious, compassionate and peaceful, less violent?

One of our members said that there are people in this congregation whose work is to help immigrants yet they feel that when they come to this church they are told they should do more. Let me be clear about my theology. I know full well that there are people in this church who work with the legal system and try to insure every single day that their clients who come from diverse countries get a fair hearing and have enough resources to survive. Would I say they need to do more? Absolutely not. I celebrate their calling to work in the trenches for justice.

There are others of you who work with clients living in poverty or in schools or colleges that are largely immigrant populations. You are doing everything you can to make sure that those clients and students get a fair shake. We are all standing on the side of love, doing what we can, trying to understand, trying to make this world a better place, part of this church’s mission. It’s enough. It’s simply enough.

Yet, for me, as a Unitarian Universalist minister, I have a deep yearning to see this congregation, to see my chosen faith, use its power, its resources, its energy to collectively reform the immigration system so that it’s more compassionate, just and honest. Even a church as small as ours with limited resources, people and time can have far more influence on the immigration system than one person speaking or acting individually as powerful as one person can be.

That is why Ravi and Norma are with us today as representatives of their worthy organizations, not because we don’t do enough, not because we aren’t enough but because we need to figure out how to harness our energy, to understand what calls to us about this broken immigration system that is destroying lives and weakening the moral fiber of American life.

Our forum today on “Immigration As a Moral Issue”, the congregational study action issue of Unitarian Universalist congregations across this nation, gives us another opportunity to “go to other rooms and experience what it means to be “the other”, the stranger, the one who feels marginalized.” May we find the compassion and moral integrity that leads to justice; that brings peace, inner and outer peace. Amen. May it be so.

Building Bridges Coalition Peace Pole Installation Sunday, October 2, 2011

2011-09-30T10:17:00.000-07:00

SUNDAY, October 2nd: Building Bridges Coalition to Dedicate Peace Pole at the St. George Ferry Terminal

September 30, 2011 – At the St. George ferry terminal this Sunday, the Building Bridges Coalition of Staten Island will dedicate a peace pole in an event that was postponed due to hurricane Irene.

The event is designed to be part of the commemoration of the 10th anniversary of 9/11 and was pl...anned to take place two Sundays before the 10th anniversary, but hurricane Irene forced organizers to postpone.

The peace pole has the message and prayer May Peace Prevail On Earth in 8 languages and was acquired by Building Bridges last year from the World Peace Prayer Society, a non-religious, non-political, not-for-profit grassroots organization associated with the Department of Public Information at the United Nations. The peace pole has been rotating in houses of worship across Staten Island since its Thanksgiving debut in November of 2010.

Participants will gather at 2 p.m. in front of St. Peter’s RC Church (53 St. Marks Place, Staten Island, NY 10301) for a prayer. They will walk with the peace pole to Al-Ihsan Mosque (406 St. Marks Place, Staten Island, NY 10301) and will stand there for a prayer. From there, the walk continues to the ferry terminal for the dedication of the peace pole, which will include the flags of the nations ceremony.

What:
Building Bridges Coalition Peace Pole Dedication Ceremony

When: If you are unable to make the whole walk, join in at the St. George Ferry Terminal
Sunday, October 2, 2011 at 3 P.M.

Where:
St. George Ferry Terminal
(Veranda overlooking the New York harbor - second floor entrance from the taxi stand and ballpark side)See More

Bringing the Interfaith Peace Pole to Staten Island Ferry terminal

2011-07-20T19:57:00.000-07:00

I just learned that there is a hitch to installing the Interfaith Peace Pole at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. If this often touted "forgotten borough" needs a new image, it needs the symbol of the Peace Pole sponsored by the Building Bridges Coalition even more. Since the Building Bridges Thanksgiving Interfaith service, the Peace Pole with its universal message of "May Peace prevail on earth", has traveled from house of worship to house of worship. Interfaith clergy and lay leaders from denominations as vast as Catholic, Protestant, Unitarian Universalist, Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim and Jain have been looking forward to the August 28th walk from St. Peter's Catholic Church to the mosque near St. George and to its final installation at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. How can government officials fail to see its installation as anything other than positive?

Staten Island, for all its stereotypes, for all its isolation and for all its problems is a truly wonderful place to live. We are not unlike other boroughs and New Yorkers, unlike other cities in this vast landscape of the United States. Last summer, we had a terrible searing summer--it wasn't the summer heat--it was violence. Interfaith clergy, politicians, activists, community organizations, businesses, communities across the whole borough came together to talk about what we could do. We are working on the problems. We are trying to be whole.

But for the life of me, I cannot understand a decision to deny our application to install an Interfaith Peace Pole at the Ferry Terminal. We so desperately need to reinforce an image of Staten Island that is not racist, bigoted, shameful--that is instead about our children and the hope and the light they bring to our lives. We are Staten Island and we are about cooperation, peaceful coexistence, mutual understanding, sheltering one another when there is a storm. And the best part about Staten Island is in this symbol of the Peace Pole. Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of people know Staten Island only by our ferry boats? How many people have fallen in love or went on their first date taking the ferry ride? Consider what this Peace Pole means-- sanctified by so many houses of worship, by people with different beliefs and understandings but gathered together as one body in this borough with a commitment to living together peacefully, in compassion and with empathy and care for one another.

I only pray that we can create a groundswell of people beseeching our mayor and softening his heart to hear our prayer--let the Interfaith Peace Pole be installed at the Ferry Terminal. Let the people of the world know us by our love, care, compassion and respect for one another. Let people everywhere know our common prayer for peace and kindness, generosity and love that is at the heart of every religion, that is in each person's soul somewhere. Please join with me in bringing the Peace Pole to the Staten Island Ferry on Sunday, August 28th.

May Peace indeed prevail on earth and let it begin with me,
Susan

A full summer

2011-07-20T19:26:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I leave for a respite in Portland Oregon with Alan's oldest daughter and her partner. We'll see one of my daughter's middle school friends, her wife and pretty new baby and get to meet a relative Alan hasn't seen since he was young. We'll be driving to the Coast with our family and then driving by ourselves up to Canada for a few days.

This summer has been amazing so far. It seems like so much happens during the summer though things are supposed to slow down. Marriage equality passed in New York State and I can finally sign those marriage certificates I haven't been able to sign 'cause I just couldn't justify signing them for some couples and not for others --just doesn't fit my faith as a UU. So we held one of the seven Faith Rallies for Marriage Equality here at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island. It was well attended and well covered in the media. I've been walking the Jericho Walk with other clergy and the Chair of our Social Justice committee. The Jericho Walk is sponsored by the New Sanctuary Committee and Churches United to Save and Heal. We march every Friday since the middle of June around the Federal Plaza--in silence, with a prayer of unity, a prayer that everybody has the right to remain, that the walls of injustice will fall that separate parents and children, spouses, that shatter lives day after day. It is an incredible experience, this Jericho Walk--a spiritual practice of maintaining silence, fasting and walking for a new immigration law.

It has been a summer of incredibly rich experiences--hearing Karen Armstrong talk about the Charter of Compassion and reading "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life", visiting friends Russell and Anthony in St. Pete and going to the Dali museum, the Fine Arts Museum, and the Chihully collection as well as a Big Cat sanctuary and kayaking through my fears in a mangrove swamp.

Life is so profound and I feel so blessed to live in New York City and occasionally visit dear friends and family in other places.

A Faith Rally for Marriage Equality at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island, Sunday, June 19th, 1:30 pm, 312 Fillmore St.

2011-06-18T06:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends and Colleagues,
The Unitarian Church of Staten Island is hosting a Faith Rally for Marriage Equality as part of a New York state initiative
by Pride in the Pulpit. We will meet on the front lawn of the church at 312 Fillmore Street this Sunday, June 19th at 1:30 pm.

The Senate vote for Marriage Equality is very close and we want our legislators to know that Staten Island clergy and members of faith communities are standing on the side of love. Please feel free to invite any other supporters of
marriage equality to this event. We hope you are able to attend.

Blessings,
Susan Karlson

May Peace Prevail on Earth

2011-06-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

May 22, 2011

Reflection: “We are facing an age where the politics of the world must be carried out by each individual who repeats the words “May Peace Prevail On Earth” thus becomes a great force for realizing Peace in the world.”- Founder Masahisa Goi

The Peace Pole Project was started in Japan by Masahisa Goi (1916 – 1980), who dedicated his life to spreading the message, “May Peace Prevail on Earth”. The Unitarian Church of Staten Island, as a member of the Building Bridges Coalition, participates in the Peace Pole Project by installing the traveling Peace Pole during our Worship celebration. The Peace Pole will reside at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island from May 22^nd till June 4^th. The musical group, Brother Sun, who played during this service, also held a concert on May 22nd at 7 p.m.

Call To Community by Sally Jones, Co Chair of the Social Justice committee at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island

What do you think about when you think about a Pole? A May Pole? Dancing around a center with a stream of flowers celebrating the joy at the return of summer? Totem Poles carved by the first peoples to live in the Pacific Northwest, with the story of their families, history, and legends carved top to bottom? Or do you think of a Flag Pole? A Barber’s Pole? A utility pole? The North Pole? The South Pole?

How about a Peace Pole? In my travels across the country, I have happened on a Peace Pole here and there – in front of a museum, beside a church, in a town square. The words on the side of the pole that read in different languages “May Peace Prevail on Earth” made me feel a little more welcome and a little more open. I didn’t know anything about where they came from or who planted them.

The idea of the Peace Pole came from a man who was born in Japan in 1916 - Masahisa Goi. After the horrible destruction of World War II and the dropping of 2 atomic bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, Mr. Goi dedicated his life to teaching others about his vision for global peace through spirituality, meditation, and prayer. In 1955, he initiated an international Movement of Prayer for World Peace with the message “May Peace Prevail on Earth.” He died in Japan in 1980 but his movement continued. One way it continued was with the Peace Pole Project.

I read that there are 200,000 Peace Pole markers around the world, in every continent, in every country, in every conceivable language.

Planting a Peace Pole has come to mean that a community is putting down a marker to

· Symbolize the oneness of humanity and our common wish for a world at peace

· Remind us to think, speak and act in the spirit of peace and harmony

· Stand as a silent visual for peace to prevail on earth

Doesn’t this make you want to have a Peace Pole in our own community, here in Staten Island? Like so many places, we have suffered from violence, from glorifying violence, from a lack of understanding between religions, from being part of a nation at war. We are looking for change.

Today we fulfill this wish of putting down our own marker, our own silent pole, a reminder of our potential – a Peace Pole that is traveling around to 18 places of worship on Staten Island and will find its permanent home at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal on August 28^th, 2 weeks before the tenth anniversary of the September 11^th attack on the World Trade Center.

In this way we become part of a movement of healing that is long overdue and needs to deepen and grow in our own community here on Staten Island.

Chalice lighting Gandhi Peace Prayer led by Unitarian Church of Staten Island youth

Gandhi Peace Greeting

“I offer you peace.

I offer you friendship.

I offer you love.

I see your beauty.

I hear your needs.

I feel your feelings.

My wisdom comes from within and without.

I honor that wisdom in you.

Let us work together.”

Installation of the Peace Pole:

No matter what language we speak,

There is a desire for peace in the human heart.

This Peace Pole, a symbol of that yearning,

Written in eight languages—Arabic, English, Hebrew, Hindi,

Italian, Mandarin, Russian and Spanish,

The words, “May Peace Prevail on Earth”

Echo the deepest strivings of the religions of the world;

Indeed of all the people of the world.

As we install the Peace Pole,

We bring our greatest hopes for

Understanding and cooperation between the people

Of this church

and our Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist

brothers and sisters on Staten Island;

between those who have different customs and cultures;

those who immigrated from distant lands

and those who have lived here since birth

or came in recent years.

May the presence of this Peace Pole in this church

Renew our commitment to build the Beloved Community

And to grow the spirit of peace within our hearts,

This church family and all the communities of Staten Island.

Will our youth please come forward and install the Peace Pole?

Installation of the Peace Pole

Closing Prayer to the Installation Ceremony

Spirit of Life, God of many names,

We take a moment to rest in

The peace and quiet of this sanctuary.

To realize how we are connected in this world

To those who worship in temples, cathedrals, mosques,

Or sanctuaries,

In homes, nature, lodges, under the open skies.

We are human beings, capable of great love and compassion,

Who also forget our common birthright

In the flash it takes to lash out, to wound, to scar.

Today as we join together for worship,

We are filled with the hope and joy

Born of the one earth we share and

The fragile lives of all beings entrusted to our care.

Spirit of life and love,

Let the words on this Peace Pole

Be our prayer, our mantra,

Our invocation—during these next two weeks

And for the duration of our time upon this Earth.

We lift our prayers for world peace in the languages on this Peace Pole:

hu ping (heping), mir, Peace, Paz, Pace, Salaam, Shalom, Shanthi.

May Peace Prevail on Earth

May 22, 2011

It’s good to have you join us today. It could have been a lonely place here if you all were swept up in the Rapture or maybe the pews would have been full —who knows.

Yesterday, Sally Jones, the social justice co chair, and I attended mass at Our Lady of Good Counsel at the invitation of their new priest, Father Liam O’Doherty. Father Liam described a chat he and I had at our monthly Staten Island Clergy Leadership meeting where we were planning how we would transfer the Peace Pole from his church to ours during the mass. Another clergy member asked when and where we would be meeting. When Father Liam told him the mass was at 5 pm on Saturday the 21^st at Our Lady of Good Counsel and it would last about an hour he told us that we were in the worst possible place at that hour on that date—for when the earthquake strikes that signals the beginning of the end, and the last place you want to be is at a church or any kind of house of worship. Well, we made it and so did you!

Today is a joyful day—installing this Peace Pole is a huge passage for us. It signals that we are part of a wider community here on Staten Island, that we are not alone even though we may feel very different at times than other faith groups.

When I first came to Staten Island, some of my clergy colleagues on Staten Island suggested I join the Building Bridges Coalition, an interfaith group that many of them had already joined.

The Building Bridges Coalition was formed in 2003 to promote dialogue and foster greater understanding and peace among the various faith communities on Staten Island. The Unitarian Church of Staten Island has been involved with Building Bridges since fall of 2008 after I learned about the Coalition. That first year a number of members went to the Thanksgiving service, some people singing in the interfaith choir. The choir did a moving rendition of Spirit of Life at the suggestion of one of our members. It was an incredible worship service with phenomenal music, readings and prayers representative of the various faiths.

Several of our members have been active the last two years on the Youth Unity Project which is open to all youth from grades 6 to 12 who want to submit posters, art, dvd’s, poems or essays on the chosen theme. Carol Lodato and I have served as judges for the contest. Since 2010, Building Bridges has partnered with the Temple of Understanding, a United Nations non- governmental organization for high school students working on completing Interfaith Dialogue and Education Action training (acronym, IDEA). The awards were given recently to winning entries and everyone received acknowledgment.

Besides the Youth Unity Project and the Thanksgiving worship service Building Bridges sponsors an interfaith Seder in March or April and a Respecting Differences Program where participants walk to two or three different houses of worship with events planned at each location.

This past year, the Board voted to become an official partner of the Building Bridges Coalition. The Building Bridges website has a link to our website and we now have a link to theirs. Our participation in the Peace Pole Project is the first event we’ve participated in as a church and so, this will mark a significant moment in our church history. I hope that many of you can join me for the Building Bridges walk on Sunday, August 28^th from St. Peter’s Catholic Church to the Staten Island Ferry Terminal where this Peace Pole will be permanently installed, as Sally said, just two weeks before the 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center.

There are many aspects of ministry that I love—one is the personal relationships built over the course of a person or family’s life cycle-- the weddings, child dedications, blessings and celebrations of life we hold as a religious community. Interfaith work is another aspect that I find deeply significant. For all that we stand for and signify as a singular faith community, our strength lies in the connections we forge with others; what we can do when we come together to promote peace and healing and recognize in those outside our walls, a kindred spirit.

This congregation is filled to overflowing with people that do good work out in the community. I have never seen so many people in one church who do such viable and much needed community work. We are teachers, actors, playwrights, therapists, community organizers entrusted with the care, nurture and protection of our children and seniors, slogging away day after day at healing abusive relationships, correcting inequities in employment and caring for the most vulnerable and forsaken.

Making peace is not only about global concerns. Peacemaking is righting those relationships that have gone sour. It’s reconciling when we’ve slighted someone or made unfair assumptions or have regrets too big for our hearts and conscience to hold. It’s doing the work of “Building Bridges” of mutual trust and understanding, moving past the stereotypes about someone from a certain religion, culture, race, or ethnicity. It is expressed by this Peace Pole with its eight different languages and the vision of Masahisa Goi who could not bear to be passive in this world of the atom bomb. It’s the look in Father Liam’s eyes when he shared that about fifty of the people he buried during his ministry in Nagasaki in the 1980s. These were people whose cancer and leukemia deaths were the delayed result of nuclear exposure after the 1945 bomb.

This Peace Pole is a symbol of our commitment to peace—peace inside, peace amongst all the beings that share this earth, peace within our families where our peace-able-ness is sometimes most tested.

Peace is a small word in most languages—huping, mir, pace, paz, peace, salaam, shalom, or shanthi. So often it is just a cliché –like the perfect answer for a beauty pageant contestant –“I believe in world peace.” Your dedication of this Peace Pole is not a cliché. It represents an integral part of living your faith. Your faith is not placed in the reward of Rapture but in the everyday healing acts that you perform, believing that you are, in frequent, small, often-unheralded ways, making peace on Earth. You will prevail in those efforts. The keynote speaker at the Metro New York annual meeting, the Rev. Dr. Mark Morrison-Reed, told us that we could have absolute confidence in this statement made by Martin Luther King, Jr. and Unitarian minister, Theodore Parker before him, when they said that the moral arc of the universe is long but it bends towards justice. Peace will prevail on earth.

May you continue to find the courage and the resolve to repeat this meditation, this prayer during your waking life. May Peace Prevail on Earth. May Peace Prevail on Earth. May Peace Prevail on Earth.

The word Amen often signifies a blessing or means “so be it”. So be it—may peace prevail on earth. Could I hear an Amen?

"Yoga as Union: Beyond Pretzel Twisting and Aerobics"

2011-04-05T13:07:00.000-07:00

National Gallery Sculpture, Delhi, India

© Rev. Susan Karlson
April 3, 2011

When I first studied Yoga back in the 1970’s, the practice was just gaining popularity. My mother, who learned yoga when it wasn’t very fashionable, should receive the blame or the credit for my rather unorthodox spiritual journey. She gave me roots in Christianity and wings to explore other paths. And she always encouraged me to think for myself and respond to the mysteries and the call of my heart and spirit. She taught me how to balance what seemed incongruent to most people.

I first learned yoga at the Aquarian Age Yoga Center in Virginia Beach. I was immediately drawn to that form of yoga—the poses or postures gently maintained for longer and longer periods of time, the pranayama or breathing practices that soothed this young woman’s nerves since I was just embarking on study for a Masters in Social Work. I clearly remember my first silent yoga retreat. I found deep peace and contentment. My world changed overnight. I felt more awake and vibrant than ever before.

I became a vegetarian as a result of my yogic practice. My decision to be a vegetarian was based on ethical and moral reasons as well as health considerations. I am generally a quiet vegetarian but the convictions underneath my decision run deep and strong as an integral part of my spiritual path. I balanced my ethical principles with the yearnings of my heart through this decision.

Some of my friends tell me about the yoga that they practice. They aim to sweat, to rapidly move from one posture to the next, to get the heart rate up. I understand those modes of yoga are in vogue but they don’t suit me. To me, yoga is union—it’s about being in harmony with your body, mind and spirit; about a connection with the Spirit of Life, the inner guide, the Source of all. Yoga is more than contortion exercises or a competition to see who can bend the farthest backwards, forwards or vertically. I am a little surprised sometimes when I go to classes and there is an emphasis on challenging yourself or pushing. Exercise and yoga are two different things—both positive for the body and for well being, but two different things.

Yoga, a science that grew within Hinduism, includes a number of branches or disciplines—Hatha Yoga, the physical postures, breathing practices, deep relaxation and concentration, that we sampled this morning; Karma yoga, the path of selfless service; Bhakti Yoga, cultivating love and Devotion for the Divine or as Twelve Step groups express it—a higher power greater than the individual personality. Chanting as we sang this morning is one way to connect with the Divine or with the Source of wisdom and love within; Raja Yoga, the path of meditation and working with the thoughts in the mind to attain stillness and ultimate liberation; Jnana Yoga, the “path of wisdom”, “self analysis and awareness”. A“… synthesis of all Yogas” feels holistic and balanced to me (from Integral Yoga Hatha, preface xv and xvi).

Unitarian Universalists draw from many sources of wisdom—personal experiences with nature, perceptions we gather through our relationships or that we take in through our senses. The religions of the world dish up wisdom to sustain people through the rigors of life and on their spiritual journey. Some of us follow those paths wholeheartedly and with a good appetite. Others create new cuisines—a synthesis of this religion or that. This perplexes people who disdain our ‘a-la-cart’, ‘all-you-can-eat’ menu of hyphenated UU-isms, where we prefer to be seeking rather than certain. “Isn’t one religion good enough?” they ask. To be truthful, it frustrates some Unitarian Universalists as well.

And so Unitarian Universalism is not always an easy path to follow. It can seem amorphous and murky—weak in a depth of understanding. It was easier when I considered myself a Methodist growing up or a yogi as a young adult. With my ex-husband I went to a very liberal Reform Jewish Temple in Los Angeles at the same time that we practiced yoga. Then I immersed myself in Unitarian Universalism, so happy to find a religion that encouraged people to be lifelong learners. Then came taiji and qigong and now, Buddhism and mindfulness meditation. Layer upon layer upon layer. So it’s confusing--who are we anyway if we draw from different sources, if the road keeps getting wider and the smorgasbord more full, if we are always on the first step of a new way.

James Fowler, retired as a developmental psychologist, theology professor and minister, wrote about six stages of faith development (Stages of Faith: The Psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning, 1981) that may help identify where we are faith-wise and how we can move from one stage to another with more fluidity and grace.

Many liberal religious folk reside in Stage 4, moving beyond seeing God as the old man in the sky and heaven and hell as literal places “…where you’re gonna go when you die” as the song goes. Reason and analysis help people examine their faith and issues of who is in authority and control. Yet it is possible to get stuck in Stage 4, to abnegate the first source of Unitarian Universalism—all the inexplicable mysteries and wonders that our wonderful brains want to interpret but can’t.

A person who moves to Stage 5 can be in dialogue with people from other religions, even though they differ. There is less a “reaction against”. There is something that is mutually beneficial from this cross pollination that feeds people on all sides. Stage 6, Universalizing Faith, is the province of those like Gandhi, King and Mother Teresa; people steeped in their own religion, willing to give everything and take great risks to serve the greater good.

Even a rudimentary understanding of these stages of faith formation may help us get unstuck when we easily identify what we don’t believe but we can’t articulate what we do believe.

Where are you in your faith development? And don’t fall back on the frequent reply, “I don’t have any faith.” Sure, you do. You question, you reflect, you care about others. You have certain moral principles you espouse. These are the building blocks of faith. How do we develop if we cut ourselves off from encounters with others who stand on separate but equally valid holy ground?

I believe we are a composite of all that we hold dear; all the stages, all the heartbreaks, all the life changes that stretch, bend or “grow” us. My Methodist Christian roots are foundational to the part of me that feels most healthy, whole and at one with the universe in every way when I practice the various aspects of yoga. And it is Unitarian Universalism with its deep roots in activist social justice and its encouragement of questioning that sends me back into the mystery, not knowing where the path ultimately will lead. At its very best this church leaves room for each person, in their own way, to fathom the mysteries, embrace a new stage in faith development, to find union with that inner light called by many different names.

We seek union through the balance of all the elements of a life; the physical, the mental, emotional and spiritual. There are few places where we can go to develop this balance, where we can bring all the parts of ourselves to be forged in the fire (the chalice, if you will) of thoughtful and conscious living and respect for our unity in diversity. This church is one of those safe places.

Here, we don’t simply explore the elements of head, heart, and spirit; we sincerely try to bring them into a balanced union; here, we cultivate a living, breathing experiment—how can people come together from varied backgrounds, theologies, perspectives and create a balanced community, build a new way? Building a new way requires each of us to contribute our energy and creative, resourceful sparks. When you contribute a portion of your treasure to this church you become part of the symmetry and vision that shapes it and determines what we can do for one another, our neighbors and, especially, the next generation that needs us, needs this church—that needs you.

May we be united in bringing what we have and what we can give so that the beauty, love and joy that is abundant here continues for many more generations.

"For where your treasure is..."

2011-03-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” ~Jesus from Matthew 6:21

I first saw the movie, Brother Sun, Sister Moon, in the early 70’s. The film depicts the life of Francis of Assisi, the patron of ecology and animals. In one scene, Francis and his rag-tag band of friars travel barefoot to meet with the Pope. Surrounded by the finery of the Pontiff and cardinals, Francis begins to recite from the Gospels, ending with the quote from Jesus—“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” During my youth, when I took something to heart, I often took things a little too literally. So when Francis says to his father who is consumed with material wealth—“do as I do, father, it’s all so simple. Give it all away”, I occasionally did just that. I gave it all away, even a thoughtful spiritual present my mother brought me from Mexico. It took me some time to reinterpret the meaning of this film and that passage from Matthew—“for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
I learned something about responsibility and stewardship as a student of yoga. Swami Satchidananda would encourage us to leave a place better than we found it, starting with the public rest rooms. I began to wipe out the sink and put paper towels dropped on the sink or floor in the waste can. I still do that today—just a little thing I can do to care for the environment and be mindful of those who come after me. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
Today I awakened to a treasure I wasn’t expecting when I walked Lilly, our dog, and my eyes fixed on the bold yellow forsythia blossoms and the bright green grass, recently freed from the snow and ice built up these past two months. Do I recognize tangible and intangible treasures in my life? Am I sufficiently grateful for the gifts that come to me—mostly small things like a smile, a hug, or green grass in the middle of February? “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
Am I aware the treasure that I have in a spiritual community that calls me to be the best person I can be and that supports me in my life journey? What can I do to be more aware and proactive in my care for this treasured church home? What about countless small spontaneous caring acts I can do—wash a dish left in the sink or food left in the vestry, without being asked, put away the tables and chairs after coffee hour, weed a small corner of the church yard in the spring, rake leaves or take a turn providing child care though I have no children of that age.
This next month, each of us will have a chance to consider that saying from Jesus—“for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” as the Unitarian Church of Staten Island begins its annual spring canvass and stewardship drive. What does this church mean to you? How can you give back to this community without “giving it all away”? How can you show where your treasure is even when our lives are encumbered by the chaos of the economy? It’s all a matter of commitment and love—“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

"Equal Hearts—No Borders Can Confine Our Hearts"

2011-02-14T11:24:00.001-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
February 13, 2011

Valentine’s Day used to be my least favorite holiday—I felt lonely and sad each Valentine’s Day when I didn’t have a loving relationship. I know the greeting card extravaganza and the hype about this holiday of love has that impact on many people just like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving and every other holiday. My message this morning is about standing on the side of love.

Alan and I will celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary this year. I remember when he proposed to me during Joys and Sorrows, what we call Milestones here. He prearranged with the musician to get the whole congregation to join in singing, “Susan, Susan, give me your answer do”, changing the name in the song, Bicycle Built For Two. And I tell you that the congregation sang more enthusiastically and joyfully during that proposal song than I’d ever heard them sing before. It was a true celebration of the love that wafts through a community and how much people love to see people in loving relationships.

Alan and I planned two wedding ceremonies—the first that allowed me, a self employed social worker with some pre-existing medical conditions, to start receiving the medical health insurance of his employer. That first wedding was small, just our mothers, my daughter, my maid of honor and a beloved Unitarian Universalist minister and mentor, and his wife.

Our second wedding ceremony was the church wedding that many members of our home church attended. Alan wanted us to dance down the aisle at the end of the ceremony. I told him I’d much rather preach before a thousand people. I love to dance but the idea of waltzing down the aisle made me jittery. In an uncharacteristic plea, he pointed out that he had been open to my ideas and I should at least consider his wishes. We took ballroom dancing lessons soon after that and did indeed dance down the aisle to the tune of “May I have this dance for the rest of our lives?”

So I love weddings. I love romance and expressions of love and affection. Love receives top billing in my scheme of life. Love is the adhesive that affixes people through the exhilarating highs, the broken, shattered moments of their family lives and all the times in-between.

Each time I met with a couple or a family when I was a therapist, each time I meet with a couple planning to marry and hear something about their families and their experiences I glimpse that spark of commitment, that mysterious presence of something we acknowledge when it comes to us but that we can’t make appear. Love is pure grace—it just happens. When I meet with couples and ask how they picked this person to marry out of all the people in the world, they usually get very quiet—tears well up in their eyes. You can see them entering some vast reservoir, an ocean of love that has changed them. They seem to enter some deep meditative place and sort out what the person sitting next to them means in the totality of their lives. Each person says something different but their reflections are always revealing of the power of love and commitment. I consider it one of the greatest privileges of being a minister to witness these cycles of life and love in the human heart.

Practically, marriage also helped Alan and I financially--my ability to get on his health plan is a benefit same sex couples in most states cannot receive. That is one of the 1324 benefits of New York state laws which protect and sanction married couples but which are denied to same-sex couples.

I became an ardent straight ally at the time of my first called ministry in Wilmington, North Carolina. I was invited to participate in a television panel discussing the election of Episcopalian Bishop Eugene Robinson, who was openly gay. Next, I learned about two New York Unitarian Universalist clergy charged with performing illegal marriages for same sex couples. A member of my congregation asked if I thought we should do something about it. Together the Unitarian Universalist congregation launched a grassroots community coalition for marriage equality.

I joined the state Religious Coalition for Marriage Equality where I met a brave Methodist minister who was unable to retain his fellowship as a minister because he married same sex couples. I also met clergy from Pullen Memorial Baptist church, a church that had done a research into the Bible verses that are often used against lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people. Their published findings did not back up the biblical prejudice and condemnation of LGBT people.

My best friend in Wilmington was the first person outside the church I met—Russell Heiland, a minister at Unity Church. He and his husband, Anthony Izzell, often invited Alan and I to watch the sun go down over the Cape Fear River waterfront. Sometimes, we got together to see rather unorthodox plays for ministers like Rocky Horror Picture Show.

When Russ became the senior minister at Unity, he paid me the greatest compliment—he asked me to preach at his ordination. Both of these men became our closest couple friends. To say that I love Russell and Anthony is an understatement. Russell was the minister at my mother’s memorial service. We are close colleagues and the best of friends.

I understand that change takes time. I know people often think we should just have civil unions so the laws will pass more quickly. Referring to someone as a partner is not the same as calling them a spouse, husband or wife. Besides denying people the portability of marriage from state to state and all the rights and privileges of marriage, it also creates a differentiation in how we sanction marriage and how we view commitments between same sex partners. The old “separate but equal” idea never worked for African Americans in the Civil Rights era and it doesn’t work with marriage equality either. Russell and Anthony have been together for about twenty years. They share a love and commitment to weather the same storms of life heterosexual couples face; their love is as real and deep as any I have known. Knowing these two fine men how can I act with integrity and not commit to do whatever I can to speak up for marriage equality?

I had learned some years before when the New York Unitarian Universalist clergy were charged that some Unitarian Universalist ministers refused to sign marriage certificates for heterosexual couples until all couples willing to make the commitment, could marry. I struggled with my conscience for 3 ½ years. I told a bit of this story during the Martin Luther King service last month—about when I couldn’t sleep and awoke in the middle of the night, wrestling with the decision whether I would continue to act as an agent of the state and sign marriage certificates when my faith and my ministry affirms love between two men and two women as equally sacred and binding. In the early hours of the morning, I read Martin Luther King’s Letter from the Birmingham Jail. Something clicked for me, reading how colleagues wanted King to slow down and take it easy. I realized I couldn’t do that any longer. I had this cloud of witnesses surrounding me and their love was reaching into my own heart.

A few years back, Alan’s oldest daughter, Jessica, met her beloved, Jen, at college. Their relationship has deepened and they recently moved to the West Coast so that Jessica can pursue graduate studies. Jessica and Jen plan to marry and they want me to officiate at their wedding. What an honor. But Jessica and Jen live in a state that doesn’t allow same sex couples to marry as do I and all our families. By officiating at their ceremony I can commend them to love and cherish one another, to stand beside one another no matter what life brings but nothing I can do or say or sign can confer on them the same rights and privileges that Jessica’s father and I enjoy. There is a little piece of my heart that breaks with that awareness.

And so, you see, I am wed to working for marriage equality. Same sex couples in this church cannot marry legally in this wonderful state. My call to minister with the good people of this church and to officiate during wedding ceremonies did not include treating same sex couples and their desire to commit and care for one another differently. How is their love any less than anyone else’s? I know it takes time for people to understand what is at stake. I know that marriage equality will be a reality—it’s a matter of time. But how many couples are unable to stand by the bedside of their beloved in the hospital as they lay dying, or have medical personnel refuse to allow parents to accompany their child who is having trouble breathing? How many times will same sex couples have to pay tax on their health insurance benefits from their partner or have to pay estate taxes when their spouse dies, taxes that no married heterosexual couple has to pay?

This two-tier system of marriage has to end and I will sincerely work to end it this year. Three of us from this church went to the Marriage Equality Advocacy Day this past Tuesday to visit our State Senators Savino and Lanza. We met with their staff people as well as Representative Nicole Malliotakis. All of them asked to know the laws that create a difference in the civil rights afforded to gay and lesbian couples. I have here the large bundle of 1324 statutes that impact the everyday lives of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.

This past year there have been successes for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender people—the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy was repealed, GENDA legislation impacting employment discrimination and protection for transgender people was favored. Yet MARRIAGE INEQUALITY remains.

Let’s stand on the side of love and justice by making valentines urging Sen. Lanza and Rep. Malliotakis to support Marriage Equality and thanking Rep. Titone and Sen. Savino for all they have done to bring marriage equality closer.

Each of you in this Sanctuary knows a committed LGBT couple or you are in a LGBT relationship yourself. Those couples need vocal straight allies. Let us add our voices to the call for unbounded Love for everyone.

"Is Free Speech Really Free?"

2011-02-14T11:05:00.000-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
February 6, 2011

Maybe some of you saw the science fiction trilogy, the “Matrix”, that came out about eight years ago. There are a number of interesting characters in those three movies. My favorite is called the Oracle. The Oracle meets with Neo, believed by some of the people to be the One, the one who will end the war waged by his people for well over a hundred years. Neo asks for guidance and the Oracle responds that it’s always a matter of choice and that she can’t even tell him what his choices are.

Doesn’t seem like much of an oracle, does she? Yet the Oracle was pointing to something akin to the song our music director chose for the Offertory this morning, the Michael Jackson song, “Man In the Mirror”. The words go like this—“I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. And no message could have been any clearer— if you wanna make the world a better place take a look at yourself and then make a change.”

This is a hard subject, “Is free speech really free?” I feel like I’m walking on shaky ground here—wary that you will think I’m suggesting that each of us need to curtail our freedom of expression, the very rights that are the bedrock of this country’s democracy; the very foundational principles of Unitarian Universalism.

I’m not making any suggestions of that kind but I am calling for us to be more aware of the need for civil discourse, for the kind of freedom that carries alongside it, certain responsibilities to be sensitive, respectful and empathetic.

Mark DeRoss is a conservative evangelical who started the Civility Project with liberal democrat, Lanny Davis. This project was started shortly after Obama was elected president and DeRoss is quick to say that he probably disagrees with Barack Obama on almost every single policy issue but he likes the person; he believes that he is a good man who loves his family and his country and Obama believes he is doing the right thing that will move our country forward. The Civility Project asked every member of Congress and each Governor from every State to sign a Civility Pledge. The Pledge has three parts—“I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior, I will be respectful of others whether or not I agree with them and I will stand against incivility when I see it.”

Recently, DeRoss shut down the Civility Project due to lack of interest because only three members of Congress and not one single governor signed the pledge. Thousands of ordinary citizens signed the pledge but there was rampant incivility in some e mails—demeaning, hateful comments made from liberals and conservatives though DeMoss sadly admitted (from his perspective as a conservative) that there were more vitriolic comments from conservatives.

Part of the reason, he believes, political figures were reticent to sign was because they assumed it meant that if someone attacked you, you could not defend yourself. It’s not true for being civil doesn’t mean that you have to roll over and be a doormat when you are treated badly.

DeMoss quoted President Obama’s speech at the Memorial service for the people shot at Rep. Gabrielle Gifford’s public rally in Tucson, Arizona: “But at a time when our discourse has become so sharply polarized”, the consoler in chief said, “at a time when we are far too eager to lay blame for all that ails the world at the feet of those who think differently than we do—it’s important for us to pause for a moment and make sure that we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds”). I put that quote in the Reflections section of the order of service along with DeMoss’ personal quote (“If you don’t like Obama’s words, try these, taken from the greatest textbook of wisdom and civility ever written—the Bible. “But with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself” (Philippians 2:3)”), knowing that DeMoss’ words are provocative for many Unitarian Universalists. I don’t agree with DeMoss—I believe every sacred text contains “wisdom and civility” and Unitarian Universalists draw from many other sources as well. Yet I know that DeMoss believes it and he doesn’t denigrate any other religion—he just lifts up his view.

Some of us have had hurtful experiences in other religious paths and we find it hard to listen to the fiercely held beliefs of those from other denominations. But incivility in return is still incivility; it is not a defense and it deprives us of the benefit of the wisdom of other faiths which we point to as inspiration for our ethical and spiritual lives.

Some years ago, a dear colleague of mine from another denomination, told me about Marshall Rosenberg and his compassionate communication (otherwise known as Non Violent Communication). The three day workshop I first went to was held at a Unitarian Universalist congregation in Atlanta, Georgia. Through that workshop and a nine day International Intensive I participated in later, I learned to listen for the universal human needs we all have—needs such as acceptance, appreciation, authenticity, belonging, respect, safety, and trust. When we listen and try to connect in this way, whether we are engaged in public discourse, talking to a family member, friend or participating in an organization or religious community, we gain empathy; it’s harder to see someone as the “other”.

I have a need for safety and respect as well. Sometimes, I admit that I stifle my own authentic voice for fear of being ridiculed. I am not saying we should walk on eggshells with one another or that constructive criticism is not welcome. I’m saying we need to pay attention to the form as well as the content of our words.
This church is built on the principle of free speech and democratic process. There is a lot of freedom and democracy here—members have the right to elect Board members and Officers and to call a Minister. Changes to the bylaws are made when the members of the congregation vote to change them. It’s in the Bylaws that only ten people are required to call a special meeting and register their concerns. Along with the right to speak freely and participate in this democratic religion comes responsibility—to talk to people in the community directly and respectfully and to use one’s power in a way that is mindful of the worth and dignity of each person, our first principle.

Each of us has something inside that needs to be expressed. I heard it the other week when a group of us met at the Path to Membership. People felt safe enough to share aspects of their life journey and experience that were profound, both long time members and people new to the congregation. I felt moved by the level of safety and trust exhibited that day. Some people shared how much Jesus meant to them or how they had changed over the years in their understanding of the usefulness of “God” images. Something compelled each person to explore membership in this church and to find here a place where they could belong and explore and grow into a better person.

I heard that Garrison Keillor, the radio personality on National Public Radio’s “Prairie Home Companion”, shared that the new Lutheran pastor in Lake Woebegone, Pastor Liz, urged Keillor to stop making fun of Lutherans on the air. She said “I’ve come to love these people here in the past six months and so my preaching could probably be better if I wasn’t so gentle with these people I love.” Maybe Pastor Liz is just being civil—maybe her congregation doesn’t need a heavy dose of guilt or shame. Maybe her love and respect for her congregation and her civility will actually prompt the people to take a look at themselves in the mirror and change when change needs to happen. I surely hope that’s what I do with you, the people I love in this congregation, and it certainly is what compels me to change myself.

I want to put a little challenge to all of us, including me. I am inspired by President Obama’s Memorial Speech for those people shot at the public rally in Tucson, Arizona; it doesn’t really matter if I agree with him on his policies—his call for freedom of speech within the parameters of civil discourse and the healing that comes along with it, is something I want to be more conscious of in my life. DeMoss’s Civility Pledge doesn’t diminish our responsibility to speak freely, honestly and openly with one another. So I am going to put up the Civility Pledge on our Bulletin Board and people can make the “Choice” (just like the Oracle said in The Matrix) whether to sign it or not. I’ll be the first—“I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior. I will be respectful of others whether or not I agree with them and I will stand against incivility when I see it."

I know I will fail in this pledge—sometimes. Yet I want to be the kind of person that can make this promise—that I will strive to be honest and speak the truth as I understand it respectfully. And when I fail to live up to this promise, as in any covenant between ordinary human beings, I hope you’ll remind me of my promise in the spirit of mutual respect. I invite you to join me.

“There Are People I Remember”—Legacy of Mentors on MLK Day

2011-01-18T14:00:00.000-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
January 16, 2011

A long train of non-violent mentors grace my life, leading back before the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and after him. I feel their connection to one another in a seamless march of non-violent resistance. The cars on this train are coupled together—from the non-violent activism of Mahatma Gandhi to Unitarian minister John Haynes Holmes who was one of the founders of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the American Civil Liberties Union and Community Church in Manhattan. He was an ardent pacifist during World War II, a time when it was particularly courageous to be a pacifist. It was Holmes who brought Gandhi’s message to this country after meeting him in New Delhi in 1947.

King wrote in 1955, “Christ gave us the goals and Mahatma Gandhi the tactics”. And the inspiring leaders go on and on—for Cesar Chavez drew inspiration from Gandhi and King, and Thich Nhat Hanh and Nelson Mandela did too. Marshall Rosenberg formed a method of compassionate, non-violent communication based on Gandhi and King’s message. This difficult practice of deep listening strengthens my marriage and my ministry every day.

I remember one period in my life when I was struggling—grappling with how a matter of conscience might impact my ministry and my life. I couldn’t sleep and so I went to my office and googled Letter From a Birmingham Jail. There I read King’s public letter to his colleagues who had urged him to slow down his demonstrations and marches. King laid it all out there powerfully and lucidly-- the time had come to act. I found strength and resolution in his words—he was speaking to me, as if the loud roar of my conscience and my God would not be silent. I knew what I had to do and I found peace in his words.

The spirit that called Dr. King to work for economic justice and peace is the same spirit that calls us to work on Staten Island today. We all are part of that long train of non-violent, compassionate people; resisting, speaking truth to power, bending the long “arc of the universe toward justice”.

Benediction Rev. Susan Karlson

May these reflections fire in our hearts
the commitment To build a new way—
To see the common threads
That weave us together,
To find the unity
that places integrity, common cause
And above all, love
On the loom of our hearts
That the design of our lives
Be One grand tapestry.
Peace, shalom, om shanthi, ashay, asalaam alaykum and blessed be.

“Light One Candle”

2011-01-18T13:44:00.000-08:00

*This sermon incorporates materialI learned from a conversation with my dear colleagues, Rabbis Judah Newberger and Rabbi Gerald Sussman. I waited to post it till I had their permission to do so.

© Rev. Susan Karlson
December 5, 2010

At an interfaith clergy meeting last week, we talked about the holidays approaching and wished the rabbis among us a “Happy Chanukah” though we understood that Chanukah was really a relatively minor holiday. One of the rabbis responded, “Well, it’s really a minor major holiday.”

I reflected on his response and got very curious—particularly as I had just told my daughter, whose father is Jewish, that Chanukah was not such a big deal in Judaism. Her response was that Chanukah was always the most meaningful celebration to her.

So Rabbis Newberger and Sussman made time this week to talk to me about Chanukah and what it means to them and their congregations and what it might mean to non-Jews. This is part of a growing understanding and deepening I have found among a number of clergy that get together here. In this relatively conservative borough I have found that the clergy active in interfaith dialogue and community action are very responsive.

This is some of what they told me. Chanukah has largely become a children’s holiday. It is not biblically based—there is no mention of Chanukah or its celebration in the Torah. For those reasons, it is a minor celebration. Deciphering what Chanukah means to contemporary Jews must be set in context. To both Rabbis Sussman and Newberger, there would be no Jewish religion or no Jewish people without Chanukah—so this minor holiday is a true “turning point” holiday.
What do they mean by that? Though there are no references in the Torah to the Chanukah stories, there are references in the apochryphal books, Macabees I and II, to the Maccabee family and the radical notion of resistance to assimilation.

Alexander and his successors were Greco-Syrians who ruled over what is now most of the Middle East. Religious persecution was rare in the ancient world. Different religions co-existed—each worshiped as they saw fit as long as they were politically obedient. There was a tacit tolerance of religious pluralism. When Antiochus IV came on the scene, however, that changed. He wanted regions to become Greek city-states and along with that came a vision to conflate religious worship and politics. Many of the Jewish city priests went along with this Hellenization but the country priests, the Maccabees among them, resisted.

This small band of country folk took on the Greek empire and somehow, they won. Theirs is an awesome story of a huge victory won by oppressed people but the story doesn’t end there and as in the wider Thanksgiving story I shared several weeks ago, we need to know the whole story. Ironically, the Maccabees’ descendants forced others to convert to Judaism, the only time in 3000 years of Jewish history according to my colleagues. They ruled by the sword, becoming corrupt and despotic, cruel and arrogant. Most of what is written about the Maccabees is negative and is a cautionary tale for Jews. Partly because of the corruption of this family, the legend was recast to emphasize God’s providing the miracle of the light burning for eight days when there was only enough oil for one day.

Reflecting on Chanukah as a “minor, major holiday” raises other thoughts about Chanukah’s significance for those who aren’t practicing Jews. There are many battles in this country today—which ones are worth fighting?

Here in Staten Island and across much of the nation, Muslims are defending their freedom to practice their religion amidst grave generalizations and misunderstandings about what it means to be a Muslim. In a climate of fear and vulnerability, it is difficult to practice religious tolerance and freedom. Stereotyping and innuendo often accompany anxiety—they are our default position when we don’t engage in dialogue and interaction with one another. Lighting one candle of connection and building relationships between us is a start. Passing the light from candle to candle in a community changes everything.

The story of Chanukah brings up a “thin line” dilemma. There is a kind of tightrope we walk between feeling comfortable within our own community and moving outside of it. We need to feel close to one another, to feel that here are a people that make us feel at home, that care what happens to us and that share certain common bonds. We need to care for one another—that’s what congregations do, that’s part of being in a religious community. Yet we also need to move beyond our close-knit circle—to step out into relationship with others from different faiths and dialogue with them and work together on issues central to us all. That’s part of building community with the Building Bridges Coalition and I Am Staten Island. That is imperative for a deeper spiritual understanding and being a truth seeker.

The other day, the president of this congregation and I had a conversation with the co-chairs of the Social Justice Committee about the direction of that newly reinvigorated committee. We talked about the importance of communicating what people are doing as individuals as well as acting together collectively. This congregation has always been a leader in providing educational forums and articulating issues to be addressed. As Unitarian Universalists, we excel at discussion and talk. Collectively, by and large, we are also generous and we give of our time, talent and our treasure.

My observation is that it is a little harder for us to build ongoing relationships or partnerships with other faiths or organizations—to ask how we might work together, whether it’s the problem with the environmental racism connected to the sanitation garage, with addressing and eradicating homelessness and hunger or with immigrant, gay or Muslim bashing, to name just a few.

The rabbis said that Chanukah brings up questions revolving around the customs and traditions of their ancestors and whether contemporary Judaism is selling them out. All religions grapple with honoring the practices and traditions of their predecessors while responding in new ways to new conditions.

You see, the conversation with my Jewish colleagues was helpful in understanding that these are choices we all face. How much do we value those who founded this church, those who supported it through gifts they left so that we can still meet here today; and do we praise or curse those who started the Jolly Holly Fair that we just held yesterday for 150+ consecutive years (since it involves so much work and preparation but is so successful)? How much do we determine our spiritual path and religious exploration based on the tendencies and beliefs of former and long time members? And what of those who join us now—are we still evolving as a dynamic, living organism? Do we adhere to customs and traditions without being aware of their deeper significance or do we throw them out without thinking about the implications? How do we speak about the deepest yearnings in our hearts when each of us has different needs embedded in our souls?

I don’t have an answer to these questions but in good Jewish fashion, I do have a story that speaks to these ponderings told to me by Rabbi Sussman. In mid-nineteenth century Russia, there was a law mandating recruits for the military serve twenty years. Some children were taken as cadets at the tender age of seven or eight. Often, kidnappers stole children to meet the quotas. Parents and families lost their children—many never seeing one another again.
The story goes that one young lad was kidnapped. Years went by. His parents had no word about him or from him. They still hoped one day that their son would return but this was really only a tiny ember—nothing in their existence kindled that small but steady flame.

You know that the Russian winters can be so very cold. One night a soldier was lost in the forest, freezing from the bitter cold. The light of a flickering candle in the window caught his eye. He went to the door and begged to come in and warm himself. Eventually, he realized that these people who welcomed him in were his parents and they were reunited. The glow of one small candle in the darkness led to their reunion and to his rediscovery of his Jewish roots.

Each of us only has to light one candle, to nurture that flame, to keep it going. We never know what results that light will have. We never know who might be attracted to that light, who might find their way home, who might be stirred by the example of our small, steady flame. And yet if we light one candle and join our candle to another and to another, then soon the darkness turns to light, the cold dissipates and our separate and mutual paths are illumined. May we light one candle and nurse that light with our entire being, with all that we have and all that we are. May your light grow stronger, brighter, and more true in this season.

"God Is A Verb"

2011-01-10T18:50:00.000-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
January 9, 2011

I am stunned by the shootings in Tucson, Arizona yesterday that left six people dead including a nine-year old girl, a political aide and a court judge and injured Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, the US congresswoman and the apparent intended target of the shootings and eleven others.

When I read about this tragedy, I pondered whether the words I planned to say have relevance in light of the shadow cast by yet another bout of violence. When violence occurs like this, prayers are requested and offered for the families of the murdered, recovery and healing for those injured and the entire community where the violence took place. Compassion, sensitivity and deep listening are needed regardless of our beliefs in the efficacy of prayer. The people in Tucson will face a crisis in the schools, at the shopping center where the shootings took place, in the offices and the courtrooms and the homes and workplaces of those injured and killed. And we will be challenged to feel compassion for the shooter, as well.

I had planned to talk about my experience of feeling connected to something universal, ancient and timeless when traveling in India. In thinking about the shootings in Tucson, I realize that these feelings of connection and interdependence are even more common through the natural outpouring of empathy for those who are suffering. I believe strongly that we are all connected to one another and every element of creation. Sometimes, an event or a place draws us into a deeper awareness of our unity.

These experiences of connection and oneness happen to most of us—suddenly something clicks for us and we feel we are a part of something vast and limitless. It often happens when we are out in nature but we also can experience it when we are stirring some concoction, painting a picture, encouraging a baby to smile, singing a lullaby as children drift off to sleep, or gazing at an ailing or dying loved one. These are moments of perfect synchronicity—moments when we feel in harmony with the world and our part in it. And even when chaos comes stomping in and the world as we know it is shattered as it was for the people of Tucson, we become aware that even in our moments of utter fragility, we are held together by a great love. Some call that great love God.

As human beings and meaning makers, we give names to experiences and concepts that defy description. Nothing can ever adequately depict those holy moments yet we still try.

By crafting names for God, people create God in their own image—giving God attributes and characteristics similar to their own. In most cases, we refer to God as if God is a noun, a separate omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent Being, usually seen as having the gender of a male.

In the mystical tradition of Kabbalah, in a branch of philosophy referred to as process theology, and to Buckminster Fuller as well, “God as a noun” just doesn’t cut it. Nouns name something; they describe an object with finite attributes or characteristics and in most languages, gender. That understanding of God is an anthropomorphic projection. Ironically, God, the noun, is bound in form and name whereas God as a verb is about an interactive, dynamic, and interdependent process; unlimited.

Whether I am struggling or filled with joy, a God that is distant, removed from the burdens and pleasures of this world, is not so very accessible. In process theology, God and parts of creation are always changing; we are all co-creators in a continual cosmic dance. As Unitarian Universalist Gary Kowalski relates, “In a panoply of events, God is simply the Main Event. Amid a multitude of partial and imperfect relationships, God is the one to whom all are fully and perfectly related. In a “participatory universe” where all have a role in the construction of reality, God is the one who participates in all life and every act of creation.” ("The Ultimate Canvass" adapted from "Science and the Search for God").

The Sufis have a tale about the interrelatedness of God and the cosmos. In their story, a man calls to God at all hours of the day and night. God does not respond. The wily devil speaks to this disappointed man and plants the seed of doubt in his heart: “How long will you wait for God to respond ‘Here I am’ to all of your entreaties?” The disheartened man stops calling out to God but in a dream, an image of the Divine asks why he has stopped his calls. The man replied God never answered me. Then the dream-image, representing God, said “Did you not realize that every calling of yours IS itself my response?” (story from David Cooper's book, "God is a Verb").

Here is the idea in Psalm 42 of “deep calling to deep”. Caller and called are intricately interwoven in the most complex of dances. With God as a verb, there is a steady interplay between all parts of the universe. God is not named as an all-powerful potentate but is in an ongoing evolving relationship with us.

Sixteenth century rabbi, Isaac Luria, taught about a very complex cosmology called “the Shattering of the Vessels”, an interpretation of the verses in Genesis: “And the earth was without form and empty; and darkness was on the face of the deep.” Luria believed that vessels that would hold the light of creation were shattered and spread out in all directions. A tiny fragment of that light like a holy spark is in each of us and in every aspect of the universe, although each spark has a shell coating and obscuring it. If we increase our awareness of these holy sparks, we help to repair the shattered vessels. We have the opportunity to mend the world and the brokenness in it.

In "God Is a Verb", Rabbi Cooper concludes that “our opportunities to raise sparks are boundless” in every action, encounter, and relationships with those closest or most distant. Every moment affords us the chance to own the holy spark within us, in others and all around us.

With God as a noun, we are separate entities. The power differential is immense. When God is a verb, God is in process as are we. God as a verb is empowering because we matter. Our actions can lead to further fragmentation and disharmony or we can choose to heal the small part of the world we occupy. We can go through life unconscious, caught in the past or future, shunning the “holy sparks” that are our nature or embrace the unfolding of the present.

In essence, God does not have a plan for you. You are the plan. Rabbi Cooper says that “God-ing” is “everywhere around us and an aspect of everything we do.” With God “God-ing” we participate in the ever-new dance of life in contrast to the God that finds humanity ever wicked and sinful. Even in the midst of devastating loss and utter chaos, our tears are dried if we claim our capacity to be holy agents, sparks of the divine.

We do not know what was in the heart and mind of the man who shot so many people in Tucson. When we are in concert with the universal spirit of compassion and love, our thoughts and prayers go out to him and his family as well as all the other people in Tucson. We in Staten Island know something about the aftermath of tragedy and violence--the days after when you have to pick up the pieces. It is apparent to me that you cannot intentionally harm others in that way and be in touch with that spirit of oneness and interconnection that cradles us as tiny sparks emanating from the same Source. To go on a shooting spree is to be unaware how that destruction harms the one who pulls the trigger and maims the web of life that joins us all.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what name we give to God or if we find the concept of God meaningful or not. What matters is how we can enliven this moment now and each and every moment that flows from this one. And that will move us to a place where we are actively refining and reclaiming the verb state of God-ing, Susan-ing, Linda-ing, Virginia-ing, John-ing, and each of us that can carry our spark through acts of compassion, mercy and unity. May it be so.

"What Are You Waiting For?: A Burning Bowl New Year’s Service "

2010-12-27T16:38:00.000-08:00

Homily by © Rev. Susan Karlson
Memories can be so precious. They are reminders of how fully we live. Even the sad times or the passing of people we love can remind us to live this present moment as children do so naturally.

The Greek philosopher, Socrates taught that “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Reviewing the year can inspire us to make positive changes. A virtual box of memories reinforces what we treasure and what we would prefer to leave behind as part of last year’s archives. Consider the memories that stand out for you from 2010—they may be events or occasions you prefer to leave behind in the year just passing or carry with you.

Reviewing the year about to end is an exercise in reflection and taking stock of where we have been so we can be more conscious but do we really need to be prodded at the start of a new calendar year to let go of our shortcomings, the wrongs done to us or the wrongs we have done to others? Do we need new years’ resolutions to anticipate a change of heart or motivate greater care of the soul or heightened sensitivity and compassion to the needs of one another? Probably not, but humans have devised rituals and made meaning out of their experiences as far back as artifacts exist.

Birth: As 2011 approaches, we celebrate the promise of those born this year. They remind us of the wonder of birth.

Marriage and Commitment: There are others united in marriage or commitment ceremonies. We celebrate their love.

Deaths: We lost loved ones this year—as we remember their names, we cherish what is eternal--love and the relationships forged over time. Though life is impermanent, our memories sustain the transformation they forged in our lives.

Church Membership: And this year, a number of people joined this church and we rejoice in their presence among us.

Our lives are filled with milestones, great occasions and exquisite loveliness. Let us cherish these memories, this treasure box of the old year receding as we welcome in the new.

“Las Posadas—Is There Any Room Here?” by Rev. Susan Karlson

2010-12-27T16:31:00.000-08:00

We lit three Christmas Candles tonight –candles for shining forth greater hope, charity and love in our hearts, in our deeds and in the way we live our lives. Each of us here tonight is a part of something larger than ourselves. Each of us has connections of friendship and love to families, classmates, friends, co workers, neighbors and others that aren’t here with us on this Christmas Eve.

This past spring and summer, people on Staten Island were injured just because they were immigrants, Latinos, Muslim, Russian, gay or because of the color of their skin. All those injured, all those who hurt others and all those who love them or that they love are part of our circle here tonight because of the need for wider circles of understanding and care.

Members of El Centro del Inmigrante have been to our church three times now for services including their Director, Gonzalo Mercado and musicians and dancers for Dia De Los Muertos, Day of the Dead, and of course, this evening as David and Victor played Las Posadas music. El Centro formed in 1997 with the mission of providing for the economic and overall well being of immigrant workers and their families in the United States. Members of our congregation already volunteer with El Centro and we are looking for more ways that we can form closer two way relationships with the people from El Centro.

Unitarian Universalists across the country are working on how to be more effective partners and to advocate for comprehensive and thoughtful immigration reform. Our Las Posadas celebration is a way of honoring the relationships we are building and ask ourselves, as did Mary and Joseph in our Las Posadas re-enactment, “is there any room here?” Can we work together in partnerships to make sure there is room for immigrants and American union workers and so many others who have felt the harshness of being out in the cold without a place to rest, feeling no one cares for them; perhaps each of us wondering at times if anyone cares?

If we light the Christmas Candles of Hope, Charity and Love, let us continue to ask ourselves this question, “how can I make room, how can we make room in our hearts?”

Plunging Into the Dark—The Winter Solstice

2010-12-27T15:34:00.000-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
December 19, 2010

I went to the Winter Solstice Concert at St. John the Divine in Manhattan the other night as part of a midwinter treat for my family. For over three decades, Paul Winter has celebrated the Winter and Summer Solstice there. This year, there was an amazing Tree of Sound, full of gongs, timpani and chimes in the shape of a giant Yule tree. The Forces of Nature, a West African dance ensemble, recreated the flight of the cranes migrating from Africa to Eurasia with a fantasy interaction between women mimicking the cranes’ movements and the observing birds joining the women as they all danced together.

The lights dimmed as a Winter Storm re-enactment gathered behind, in front and all around us. The crackling sounds of a freezing, frightful winter’s night pounded on the walls and whistling through the air. Clouds of fog rolled in and it felt as if the cold entered through the gray stones of the cathedral. Viscerally, I felt the approach of Winter. My thoughts turned to our Winter Solstice Celebration this morning, “Plunging into the Darkness”.

People celebrated the Winter Solstice for millennia past and it captures the imagination still. Though we no longer believe that the sun returns because we hold a ritual, we participate in turning the great wheel of the seasons through our Winter Solstice celebration this morning. If spring doesn’t follow winter or the Earth is erratic in its weather patterns, it won’t be because we’ve offended the Sun—more likely, we will have inadvertently hastened climate change.

Sitting there in the relative darkness of the cathedral, my thoughts turned to people in this church and this community. I remembered people whose loved ones died recently or whose deaths feel new-sprung during this season of family festivities. I envisioned the chill that comes with loss and sorrow--joblessness, arduous moves to a smaller residence, mammoth or minor surgeries and injuries, mobility issues, diminished hearing and eyesight. I remembered, too, the cold, hard, frosty feeling of being unappreciated or unacknowledged at work, school, home or church. And also the cries of children struggling, outcast or lonely.

During the Winter Solstice celebration at St. John the Divine, the Dean of the Cathedral spoke briefly about specific concerns for the worth and dignity of all people—including youth who feel bullied presumably because of their sexual orientation or for other reasons and then see no way out of the pain except to end their lives. The first principle of Unitarian Universalism is about “the …worth and dignity of all people”. It is a core value that unites people from a multitude of faiths and continents.

The reality of working on peace and justice issues over the long haul can sting like a bitter wind of disappointment, shaking us to our core. During a winter of disillusionment, we have to admit that Congress seems frozen in its partisan tracks, forgetting the needs of those most vulnerable—those who really need a tax break and a living wage. There are people mistreated who come from other lands, cultures or religions and there are those who wake up bruised and battered from experiences that are a part of their everyday life.

Through our varied human experiences, we plunge into the darkness of a winter storm, teeth chattering, blowing into our hands to warm them and forgetting to put on a pair of long johns or extra layers when we venture out.
Most animals are keen on hunkering down (except the Staten Island turkeys that get front page news). Squirrels dart up and down trees, gathering the last fall remnant for their nests. Grackles cackle in the tree outside my window, the only birds making merry this time of year. Yet we of the human animal species seem to ratchet life up a notch or two, out of synch with nature and our own intuition, resisting.
In just a few days, on the Winter Solstice, the sun will reach its nadir and begin to steadfastly shine longer each day until the Summer Solstice. On the cusp of the Solstice, we stand still—readying ourselves for winter’s chill in all its many forms, physical, emotional, and spiritual.

This long climb up from all that darkness prepares room inside us for thawing out, taking stock, and tending to those people and things we’ve neglected in the past year, including those fresh shoots of growth inside us.
Inside the cathedral last Thursday evening, the fog gathered like a shroud around us, and a gong sounded behind us. As we turned to look, we saw the Sun Gong and heard it strike over and over as it ascended to the zenith of the cathedral sky. Acting out this Solstice, we participated in the age-old return of the sun ritual, internalizing the intermingling of our “innermost psyches” with what goes around us.

Winter Solstice is a time for hope and belief in the return of the sun and its warmth. Just yesterday, the Senate passed a measure to repeal the 17-year old “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” law which kept lesbians and gays in the closet for fear of losing their military careers. It took 17 turns of the sun wheel to repeal a law that was meant to be a stop-gap measure to end discrimination in the military. Like Nature, the struggle for inclusion and human and civil rights is unpredictable and relentless.

The cycles of nature have their rhythms—heedless of human impatience. Wanting the dark days to be over will not make them pass more quickly. Light and darkness are part of a natural rhythm to which we attune ourselves. As the Sun returned in the ritual at St. John’s, a huge Earth ball moved forward towards the narthex and then rotated as if it was spinning on its axis in space. As it moved upwards, I felt a surge of joy and I thought of all the promise and meaning this year holds—elements of light and darkness—new babies, ornaments colored and hung on the tree by the children, people curling ribbons and sitting on the steps and in the pews singing carols, a member fixing a special meal for vegans and carnivores alike, holistic stories about our member, Alice Johnson who died recently and our secretary’s grief at the passing of Mildred Dolan, a cherished member and friend of this church.

I thought of people that I have observed really listening to one another, caring for one another, and understanding one another after a personal storm had set them apart. I have a newfound appreciation for the title of a book that sounded like an oxymoron when I first heard it—The Joy of Conflict Resolution. And I feel some of that joy that comes when you listen to the stirrings of your own conscience and strive to understand what is underneath the words and actions of another person.
The wonder of the Winter Solstice is not that the sun returns year after year to warm the earth. There is a promise in the turning of the seasons: that we will not always remain in the darkness any more than we will always bathe in the warmth of the light. To get to a place of joy we often have to plunge into the darkness and remain there in solitude for a time. In this quiet, dark place, strength returns, resilience brings us back to life and love. The earth spins, the sun shines in our sphere of the world and we emerge different than we were before the winter darkness descended. We do participate in turning the wheel of our own seasons of the heart.
While, ironically, the days grow longer as winter cold sets in let us hold this poem by Anthony F. Perrino in our hearts this Solstice:
“A gentle kind of madness
Comes with the end of December
A winter solstice spell, perhaps,
When people forget to remember—

The drab realities of fact,
The cherished hurt of ancient wrongs,
The lonely comfort of being deaf
To human sighs and angels’ songs.

Suddenly, they lose their minds
To hearts’ demands and beauty’s grace;
And deeds extravagant with love
Give glory to the commonplace.

Armies halt their marching,
Hatreds pause in strange regard
For the sweet and gentle madness born
When a wintry sky was starred.”

"Bodhi Day--The Move Towards Awakening"

2010-12-27T14:56:00.000-08:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
December 14, 2010

In all my years as a Unitarian Universalist minister or as a lay leader in my home congregation, we have not focused on Bodhi Day during this manifold season of festivals from the world’s religions. Bodhi Day is a minor holiday for many Buddhists—far more widespread is the celebration of Buddha’s Nirvana, his final exit from this world and his birth. Yet, Bodhi Day is cast in a whole new light now along with its relevance to Unitarian Universalists and others who are not Buddhist practitioners.
The story of the Buddha is an inspiring one as is the story of all religious figures. In a way, Buddha’s beginnings are in stark contrast to the humble birth of Jesus, born in a stable to parents who had difficulty finding an adequate dwelling place for one later known as the Prince of Peace. There’s something holistic about these two stories side by side, retold at this time of year—something beyond our associations with abject poverty or lascivious wealth.
The prince, Siddhartha Gautama whom we now know as the Buddha, had every material comfort and privilege his royal family could provide. Sheltered in a palace, so the legend goes, he never saw the sick, poor, aged or knew anything about death or dying. One day he witnessed these human sufferings and he vowed to find the cause and the solution. He fled from his family and the luxurious life he’d known—leaving behind his parents, wife and a young son.
After leaving behind all the palatial pleasures of his youth that he grew up expecting would bring happiness, he spent six years denying his body, undergoing extreme ascetic practices to get at the root of suffering. Finally, sitting beneath a pipul tree, now known as the ficus religiosa or Bodhi tree, he awakened fully and understood about the nature of the world and the causes of suffering.
In this state of total awareness, “suffering”, “struggle”, “sorrow” and “strife” disappeared. He came to the Middle Path, neither punishing nor pampering his body. In the instant of his Enlightenment, he understood the interconnection of all life. Although he was tempted to remain in this state of bliss, freed from deprivation and asceticism on one hand or from striving to find fulfillment through the pleasures of the material world on the other, he got up and “started a new day”. He spent the remainder of his life teaching and mentoring others about the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path he understood from his Awakening (story from Siddhartha’s Awakening, http://www.uua.org/religiouseducation/curricula/tapestryfaith/spiritpractice/workshop9/workshopplan/stories/60546.shtml ).
How often do we misunderstand the religions of the world? We see the flaws and shortcomings of the followers, no matter what the path. In the case of Eastern religions, Westerners tend to denigrate adherents as “navel gazers”, totally removed from the rest of the world or completely self-absorbed. How unlike the Buddha, the Awakened one, who spent his life pointing to a way beyond the suffering of delusion, self-absorption and identification with this mind that takes us on the adult equivalent of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. The myths about Buddhism depart so far from the core of Buddhist teachings about compassion, respect and loving kindness for all living beings. The Buddha, too, was a prince of peace.
Buddhism teaches that Enlightenment, Awakening, is not restricted to the historic personality of the 6th century BCE Buddha. Being fully present in this moment and the next, and the next, is possible but it goes against our natural human tendencies. Every experience gets categorized as pleasurable (which bears repeating), painful (which should be avoided) or neutral (which just seems boring). As I speak about it, this moment now is gone—it has already become the past. It seems a conundrum to stay in the present—it evaporates like dew when the sun comes out.
One of our members gave me permission to tell a story about a great revelation she had recently about staying present and being aware and awake. She was enjoying dinner with some friends when the waitress reached for her plate. Poised with her fork in mid air, ready to take another bite, she vehemently told the waitress she was still eating. The waitress rolled her eyes as if to say, “oh, here we go again.” It was after the waitress left that she realized that her actions could be perceived as ready to stab the waitress with her fork.
She apologized to the waitress and the waitress responded that she had experienced all kinds of hostile behavior from diners in her years as a waitress. The revelation for this diner was that in her preoccupation with her dinner plate and her fears that her meal would be taken or she wouldn’t have enough, she had lost the present moment in the interaction with the waitress, wrapped up in her concerns and responding out of that place. Through our conversation, I realized how much of the pain and suffering we experience or inflict on others is due to turmoil arising from our fears, from not being fully present with ourselves or one another in the moment before us.
It’s hard to stay in the present. One of our readings was a litany of ways that the author was a bad meditator (Ways I Have Been a Bad Meditator by Ted Weinstein). Ironically, being aware of how the thoughts race and the mind jumps from place to place, from past to future, is being mindful, if not present. Even the judgment that I am a bad meditator is a step on the journey to being more aware, leading to being present more often. And every mindful moment is a part of Awakening. The more time spent awake and aware in the present, the more effective we can be as change agents, as celebrants in building the kinder, more generous and peaceful world we envision and the relationships we want to create with each another.
During the Buddha’s austere period, he almost starved himself, practically knocking on death’s door. A woman came by to offer rice and milk to Mother Ganga, the river goddess, when she discovered Buddha, motionless, meditating and fainting from hunger. Offering him this blessed food, she helped sustain him, not knowing that he would go on to Awaken and teach others the path to Enlightenment. Every moment builds on the one before it and leads on to the next one yet we don’t know the results or consequences of our actions. We can only be more aware, aware and present.
The pipul or Bo tree is a tree that spreads out in all directions. In India, it is sometimes known as the mother of all trees and is worshiped as such. Buddha awakened under a pipul tree and cuttings from that original tree have been planted in other places. One of those transplanted trees is around 2300 years old, the oldest known tree planted by humans. Bodhi Day derives some of its significance from this original tree. In some celebrations, a ficus tree is decorated to represent the tree under which the Buddha gained his wisdom.
Having seen these trees recently in India, they inspire reflection on what is timeless and breathtaking. The Buddha spoke of trees as gracious “living organism[s] which give food, shelter, warmth and protection to all living things. It even gives shade to those who wield an axe to cut it down.” (http://www.hindu.com/seta/2010/11//18/stoires/2010111850071200.htm
This Bodhi Day, I decorated a Norfolk Island pine tree with lights made by women from Thailand out of pipul tree leaves, part of a Fair Trade program of empowerment. This tree and these lights symbolize the wisdom and the beneficent teachings of the Buddha. The milk and rice in this bowl remind us to be generous, spontaneous and present to the opportunity before us this moment and every other moment of our lives.
You see the dilemma of the minister; speak of symbols and tell stories about how to achieve that first goal, which is “to see the thing itself, in and for itself, to see it simply and clearly for what it is, no symbolism, please”, the thing being our very existence in this precious, fleeting moment. Self-awareness. Awakening.
What brings you back to now, to this one life and the chance to share with others out of the great gifts you are given?
May this Bodhi Day just passed remind you of what is everlasting and yet ever changing as that original Bodhi tree sprouting new growth alluding to the wisdom of the ages. May your life touch others, reflecting and beaming beyond all pretense and arrogance, sharing each precious moment as it unfolds like the Awakened One who inspired Bodhi Day, even this celebration today.

NYC Standing on the Side of Love Immigration Rally Dec. 9th

2010-12-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

It was a cold day in New York City as we prepared to rally in front of Governor Patterson's office. This was the latest in a series of events in New York City that have focused on immigrant's rights and reform, the passage of the Dream Act and responses to the increase in enmity and attacks on Latinos and people with various racial, ethnic, religious and LGBTQ identities. Standing on the Side of Love with people from Make the Road New York, the New York Immigrant Coalition, and people from many different faiths and backgrounds, I renewed my commitment to building partnerships and coalitions. Yesterdays' Rally was part of the essential struggle for immigrant rights. Here in New York, if someone is stopped for the most minor of offenses, like a parking violation, they can be detained and the New York police, whose duty it is to keep the peace and assure the safety of all persons, are often called to turn over people suspected of being undocumented. So many families are separated and parents deported. The police cannot safeguard the general public with their dual role as police and immigration officers. And many undocumented immigrants do not report crimes or injuries out of fear of deportation and their families being torn apart.

When I first learned of these practices, I thought they parallel Arizona SB 1070! All of us in this country are in danger of having draconian practices, policies and laws with the ignited fears and prevalent myths about immigrants. In spite of temperatures in the 20's, a number of Unitarian Universalists gathered in Manhattan found our spirits warmed as we "stood on the side of love" in solidarity with many other groups.

The strength of our Standing on the Side of Love advocacy and witness efforts is its broad based appeal to many faiths and community organizations. Standing on the Side of Love means that my colleague and friend, Gonzalo Mercado, from El Centro del Inmigrante, noted, "I see you more often here in Manhattan than on Staten Island." He knows he can count on me because of the relationships we are building. Later that evening at an Anti Bias Summit on Staten Island, we talked about ways the Unitarian Church of Staten Island can increasingly work with El Centro and other immigrant groups. He expressed his affection for our church and I assured him that we feel a real connection with El Centro. There will be many more Rallies, phone calls, Summits and times when we work together on deepening the bonds of love and justice between us. That is the power of Standing on the Side of Love during this chilly time of year, or the excruciating heat of the summer just past and all other seasons in between. ~The Rev. Susan Karlson, Minister, Unitarian Church of Staten Island

"We Give Thanks" --"Beyond the Thanksgiving Myth"

2010-11-29T12:26:00.000-08:00

"The Story of Thanksgiving" (story narrative from http://www.nmai.si.edu/education/files/NMAI_Harvest_Study_Guide.pdf)
Since November is American Indian Heritage Month, this is a good time to learn more about the Native Americans, without whom there would not have been that first Thanksgiving. The traditional foods we eat at Thanksgiving were all foods grown and harvested by the Native people of the Americas. The Native Americans at that first Thanksgiving were the Wampanoag and their ancestors had been in the area for thousands of years by the time the Pilgrims got there. Giving thanks was a central part of everyday life for the Wampanoag and for many of the Native people of the Americas.
The Wampanoag offered their thanks back to the earth in the form of offerings like shell beads and other items. According to their beliefs, it wasn’t possible to take from the earth without giving something back. Life just didn’t work that way. When they enjoyed an abundant harvest, they gave thanks. During their ceremonies, they would feast, dance and play games with a “give away” where families gave away personal items they had to others in the community who were in need.
The Pilgrims who landed in 1620 were not prepared for life in the Americas. They didn’t bring enough food and the planting season was over by the time they arrived. The Wampanoag had other problems with a neighboring tribe and many of them had been killed by diseases that previous European explorers brought. One survivor, known in our history as Squanto but whose real name was Tisquantum, taught the settlers how to survive and he also introduced one of the leaders of the Wampanoags, Massasoit and the governor of Plimoth, John Carver. They later signed a peace treaty.
By the fall of their first year, in 1621, the settlers had a successful harvest and they planned a Harvest Home celebration similar to one that would have been celebrated in England. This was what we typically think of as the First Thanksgiving though there is no mention of giving thanks. The settlers included typical Wampanoag foods and the Wampanoag contributed other food to the feast. This three day celebration was a symbol of how the Native people and the Europeans could live together peacefully.
The Wampanoag people still exist today and they continue hunting, fishing, gardening and gathering as their ancestors did. Many Native artists create baskets, carve wood, make pottery and wampum just as they did hundreds of years ago. Many of the children now learn the Wampanoag language and maintain their culture.
The first Thanksgiving was a mixture of Puritan religion and the European Harvest festival with the addition of Native foods. Thanksgiving still emphasizes feasting and plenty. Knowing more about that first Thanksgiving and the practice of the “give away” ceremonies, may instill in us a greater sense of gratitude and thankfulness—not just now but throughout the year.
Homily “We Give Thanks”—"Beyond the Thanksgiving Myth"
So what does this story beyond the usual Thanksgiving myth have to tell us about Thanksgiving today? Our Call to Community at the beginning of this service expressed thanks as the Wampanoag and other Native people often do –feeling gratitude for the earth, the sky and the wind, the plants, the animals, the water and how all life lives and dies as shown in the living plant and the fallen leaves.
Our skit about the Guest at your table program reminds us of the ways we can work together with people from different areas of the country and the world to help make positive changes that the people in need determine for themselves—like drinkable water, getting a fair price and safe working conditions for the women picking and harvesting bananas, and finally returning back home after being in refugee camps for years, rebuilding farms and homes, and healing the sore spots where hope lights up one family’s life after another.
Just coming back from India, I am still reeling from what I saw and experienced in the slums of Delhi where the Self Employed Women’s Association of India (http://www.sewabharat.org) provides a means for women to make a decent wage by sewing traditional beads onto clothing and selling them overseas. The dignity and the courage of these women and young girls learning their craft and gaining from computer training will remain with me forever.
I am in the process of sorting out in my mind the degree of poverty and need in this country and abroad. Certainly, there is hunger and need in this country that we need to address. There is oppression and injustice and that is something I have pledged my life to work on. This church has often prioritized local charitable works and justice. I understand that but something is shifting in me after spending six days hearing about Mark Kiyimba’s experiences in Uganda, after seeing our Unitarian Universalist Holdeen Partners Program in India, and reading the Stories of Hope that the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee works with.
I am aware more than ever that those with the least resources in this country have more than most of the people in many areas of the world. There is no denying that those of us with very modest incomes here are seen as wealthy by most of the world’s citizens. It puts this Thanksgiving into a whole different perspective for me. At the very least, I feel a need not to take for granted the many gifts I have, to feel grateful to the people who grow the food I eat, that harvest it and package it.
I hope that all of us, the members and friends of this church, and all of our community partners, can be grateful and give thanks. I think of the Wampanoag Indians who believe in the “give away” of personal possessions to those in need. We are exercising some of that with our food to El Centro, toys for Seaman’s, and to expanding our generosity and service to others, including the planned youth service trip to New Orleans.
I have a prayer this Thanksgiving that we each find ways to make the spiritual practice of gratitude a part of our daily life, to witness even when we’re cold and feeling sad, that life is precious and fragile. It is not guaranteed. It is a gift that each of us experiences and we can become more aware of the gifts of life or stay oblivious to them. Let us choose to move beyond what comes with the Thanksgiving myth—that we are takers, exploiters, that we use everything up until there is no more. Let us investigate how to do a “give away”—in terms of sharing, caring, and being thankful as often as we can remember how we are blessed.

The Guest At Your Table boxes—

These Guest at your table boxes show four people highlighted in Unitarian Universalist Service Committee eye to eye partnerships in Uganda, Afghanistan, Ecuador and Guatemala. We have told some of their stories this morning. You can read more about them on the Unitarian Universalist Service committee website.
The Guest at your table program hasn’t been real popular here at this church.
I've heard people say they can just write a check—what’s the point anyway in really taking in the Guest At Your Table program? The point is that we need reminders to think outside the box—to be more generous, to open our hearts more often, to think about others and how we are all connected. The Guest at your table box is a way to do that during the holidays—to place this colorful box on your dining room table and put your spare change in it—to say to yourself—today, the Guest at our table is coming—How can I understand a little better what life is like for him or her? How can I be a good host? How can I share what little I have with someone else?
And when we sit down to eat, we can really think about Carmen in Guatemala, Maral in Afghanistan, Opoka in Uganda, and Carolina in Ecuador and the thousands of nameless and faceless people in the US and abroad that our coins empower to do good work in their communities. We pass out these boxes in that spirit and I hope that every one of you will spend the coming holiday season with a Guest at your table and return the boxes full as you can the first two weeks of 2011.

Closing Words—Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address
"We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to leave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way.
And now our minds are one."

"Lessons We’ve Learned From The Dying: Memorial Garden Anniversary Service"

2010-11-29T11:48:00.000-08:00

What I’ve learned from the dying has come through those living beings who let me accompany them to the threshold. I have been witness to the last breath—that great mystery. The lessons have been many. The dying gave me a gift. My mother’s time in Hospice was by far the most illuminating. I learned these lessons for the living from her.
Lesson I: Surrender—what is and isn’t in my control
I was ready to give my sermon though something in my bones told me I would not be speaking it. I don’t remember the theme—I only remember I had lived almost three weeks in a Hospice Care Center, curled up in a little corner, watching my mother slowly go away, coming out occasionally to voice some concern for me or some wish for herself. Slowly, ever so slowly, she stopped eating and drinking—she let herself surrender to the dying process though it pained her to do it. I know. She told me so.
Lesson II: Giving up appearances and carefully crafted stories about who we are
I learned what was most important to her and to me. I learned that keeping up appearances didn’t make much difference at the end of her life. Why then should it matter to me, her only daughter?
Lesson III. Letting Go in phases
I learned that she would be my mother till she took her last breath though she didn’t speak much that last week. I learned from my best friend, a Unity minister who took a course from Hospice, that the dying often manage to time their death till some momentous passage is over. My mother lingered on after her house was supposed to sell, after Valentine’s Day, after I gave her permission to leave if it was time.
Lesson IV. The Holy and the Great Mystery of Death
I learned that there is something holy, something so sacred about being with someone in the same room when they die or shortly before or after. And I learned that you can’t always be there but that there is still some connection between those we love as they leave this world.
My mother died early in the morning as I lay sleeping in the bed in the same room. I sensed her departure. It was as if there was a hush and a brushing past me. Something I can’t rationally speak about, something I will always remember.
Lesson V. Love Calls Our Name and Death is one of its faces
And I remember going home and taking a nap, tired from the weeks at Hospice, sad, relieved, uncertain. And as I woke from a peaceful nap, I heard a bird call outside our bedroom window. It makes no sense but I knew it was connected to my mother, to all life, to life calling to life, to the tender thread between the living and those whose time on earth is complete. I was never more sure of my love and connection to my mother than that.
Each living being I have accompanied to the threshold of death has taught me something. They have honored me with their presence; they have taught me how love calls our name. They have spoken without words about that which is at the core of my faith—that we are blessed by our time together, that each second of our lives is precious, no matter what it holds. That some part of us endures—it lives on in each of us, the living.
There is a poem that was printed at the end of the Hospice book. I first heard it at a memorial service for one of the members of the church I served prior to coming here. It was read by her Hospice volunteer. It stays with me. No matter what your beliefs about death and dying, may you learn lessons from the dying and from your own experience of moving closer to impermanence and life’s end. I offer this poem to you:
“I stand upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and moves softly out to the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and look at her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sky and sea come down to mingle with one another. Then someone at my side exclaims—“Look, she’s gone!” Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull as she ever was. Her diminished size lies in me, not her. And at the very moment when someone at my side exclaims, “Look, she’s gone”, there are other eyes eagerly watching her approach, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Look, she’s coming!” And that is death.”

Benediction in the Memorial Garden by Rev. Susan Karlson, 10/24/10

Here in this garden,
Life and death comingle.
Lily turf now pronounces
“Here, in this place, beloved,
Are the Ashes of those you love.”
Do you see this beauty?
Can you sense the ties between us
As fresh as the green shoots
And the apples hanging nearby?

We mourn;
But some part of us knows
that they are with us still,
As verdant as the garden green,
The vast azure blue of sky
And the first kiss of frost in the fall.

Be still, and feel this peace.
And be at peace, here among the living
And those we remember today.

“Living in the Body”

2010-10-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
October 10, 2010
Inspired by Joyce Sutphen's poem of the same title

We know about living in the body. Our backs ache sitting too long. Because of the work we do or did so long ago, our knees and hips go out. We grow into the need for glasses, stronger prescriptions all the time. We have a voice that rivals the angels or we sound more like a tomcat wailing in the night. We keep a luxurious head of hair—or we don’t. The spiritual journey always starts with us and so it begins with living in the body.
How do we make peace with the body we’re given and give this one life all we’ve got? The Unitarian Universalist principles promote acceptance of one another, but that implies accepting ourselves too. This is the ongoing search for Truth and Meaning, part of this liberal faith. Truth be told, it’s part of the human story
In 2008, a remarkable event took place. University of Minnesota researchers successfully got a heart from a dead rat to beat again. This is an astonishing true tale that Doris Taylor talks about in an interview with Krista Tippett on her radio program, Being. The scientists start with a dead heart, then they remove the cells by washing soap through them which creates what they call a ghost heart. They introduce stem cells into the organ and feed and nurture it. And then, the heart beats again—pulsating, pink and lovely.
Taylor explained that stem cells are what allow us to heal ourselves. Children fall down all the time but rarely have lifelong scars. Every time there is an injury to our bodies, the body signals that it needs more stem cells. When we are young, the stem cells obey the call and send out a fresh supply. It takes them longer to replenish as we age.
Stress impairs our ability to heal; it reduces our stem cell count. There’s a tiny piece of DNA called a telomere on the end of the cell becomes shorter under stress. When telomeres get to a certain short length the cells signals the body that it’s time to throw in the towel. Then life ends.
Observing this delicate balance between life and death at the cellular level, Taylor hypothesizes that it is possible using stem cells to help the body to repair itself and reverse the effects of aging. Her work is fascinating and though I share her hope of finding cures for debilitating, chronic illnesses and relieving suffering, I doubt that the fountain of youth and immortality are possible or desirable.
Another key element of her research involves meditation and healing. Short periods of meditation may profoundly enhance the number of stem cells. It may well be that alternative holistic modalities like meditation, yoga, prayer and other spiritual practices documented to reduce stress also increase the body’s ability to produce additional stem cells, leading to regeneration and renewal in the body.
All of this promising work with stem cells has far reaching implications for the emotional, physical, mental and spiritual components of our lives. The spiritual implication is to connect to that spark of mystery and divine life within us—as scientists don’t know how a cell even exists. We also need to honors our bodies, grow and nurture our hearts, and transforms our relationships.
Forrest Church, well known Unitarian Universalist minister who served All Souls Church in Manhattan, talked and wrote about living fully and with zest though we are inching closer to death all the time. In our culture, we try to hide from the realities of aging, death and dying. Avoidance or denial leads us further away from accepting our bodies and ourselves, further from a quest for truth and meaning. The temporary relief we feel comes at the expense of our peace and equanimity. We can’t deceive ourselves but for so long. The poem, Living in the Body refers to seeing the same face in the mirror, the same skin over the same bones; knowing that we can only make certain changes in the body—as Joyce Sutphen says, “better to leave it as it is.”
When I think of our mortal nature, I turn often to the image of the hauntingly beautiful live oak trees. When I lived in Mississippi I would look at those ancient survivors that had weathered hurricanes, tornadoes and human selfishness. I would sing to them, praise them, be reminded of what a joy it is to be alive especially when I felt small and weighted down with some human complaint.
For though the live oaks are twisted, gnarled and bent in their dipping down to the ground and stretching up to the sky they endure. Their image brings me back to my own fragile, evolving body. They are a reminder that we humans too find ways to bend, change and endure.
Our culture touts youth—the current proverb is that the 40 is the new 30 and that those in their 50s are as spry as their parents at 40. What’s up with that? It seems self deceptive—like we can trick our bodies and imagine we are not our current biological age. We can keep fit and take care of our diets, keep challenging our minds but why this focus on the fountain of youth, on being something we are not any longer?
We can understand it—our bodies get sick, there are aches and pains and illnesses. We don’t want to dwell on those aspects of living in the body yet we can’t deny that our bodies change as we get older. I admire so many red and purple hat ladies who adopt the outlook, “when I am an old woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me…” ( from the book, "When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple", Editd by Sandra Martz, Papier Mache Press--Watsonville, California 1987). They are accepting of who they are in their bodies as they are.
The particular path we take to grow spiritually and morally doesn’t matter so much. Some will count their breaths, become more aware of breathing in peace, breathing out love. Some will pray, sing, dance, or cultivate and create something beautiful. Unitarian Universalists find meaning and truth in any of these forms just as anyone else. No one searches entirely in isolation—our life journeys are connected to others, but we start and return and endure in these bodies, alone.
Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese, reminds us “you do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”
May you befriend your body and find that live oak part of yourself that weathers every storm and bends gracefully in the wind. Amen and blessed be.

"Love Your Neighbor Interfaith Sunday: Celebrating Mahatma Gandhi's Birthday and I Am Staten Island"

2010-10-16T14:30:00.000-07:00

Call to Community: My favorite Indian movie is Swades, which is titled in English, “We, the people” but “Homeland” in India. In one song, the main character Mohan is singing to the entire village that has been watching a movie when the electricity goes out. The villagers are separated by a screen that divides one group from another. Near the end of his song, they remove the dividing screen and children from both sides play, sing and dance together. This song speaks to us here in Staten Island after a season of divisions:
"Yeh Taara Woh Tara"
(adapted slightly from a translation by Palacerani from http://www.bollywhat.com/lyrics/swad_lyr.html)
“This star, the one yonder and every little star,
Whichever one you see looks lovely.
This star, that star, every star, when all these gather together in the night,
The whole sky shimmers.
Twinkling stars, a couple of stars, a handful, a hundred stars
Shimmering. Every star is a fiery spark.

If you have seen the rainbow,
Then tell me how many colors there are in it?
There are seven colors …but they’re so close;
Just think, if these colors all dwelt separately,
How would a rainbow ever form?
Likewise, if we couldn’t join hands and unite
To fight injustice,
Then our people would not be a nation…

Individual drops, by joining together, Make a river.
Every drop makes the sea; otherwise what is a sea?
Understand this riddle; a drop existing on its own,
Just as a drop, isn’t anything.
Were we to desert one and all,
Then we would end up feeling incredibly lonely.
Why not unite then in a single current?

This star, the one yonder and every little star, twinkling stars,
A couple of stars, a handful, a hundred stars shimmering.
Every star is a fiery spark.”

"Love Your Neighbor Interfaith Sunday: Celebrating Mahatma Gandhi’s Birthday and
I Am Staten Island"
© Rev. Susan Karlson
September 26, 2010

In five weeks, I’ll be traveling to India for the wedding of my daughter’s high school friend. We’ll be visiting the Gandhi Memorial in Delhi and meeting women from the Unitarian Universalist Holdeen India program, SEWA Bharat, the Indian Self Employed Women’s Association. SEWA is inspired by Gandhian thinking and the principles of satya (truth), ahimsa (non-violence), sarvadharma (all peoples and faiths working together) and khadi (promoting local employment). When I return, I hope to bring greetings from SEWA Bharat and share with you how their families’ lives are different since finding SEWA and how SEWA has spread to other countries throughout the world.
On my way back from a silent meditation retreat in Massachusetts, I met a young man on the bus named Shrinivas who sat beside me. We began talking about his homeland of India. Because Shrinivas feels honored to serve as an ambassador for Indian film we began an e-mail correspondence about Indian films that he recommended. I feel immense gratitude for the ways he widens my understanding and appreciation of his country and his careful responses to my questions and reflections after seeing those films.
Every year on Indian Independence Day, Shrinivas watches the film, Swades, meaning “Homeland”, one of the most beautiful films about communities joining together. In telling a little of the story behind Swades on this “Love your Neighbor Interfaith Sunday” and the Sunday immediately before Gandhi’s birthday I want to bring us into a greater appreciation for Staten Island, this place that is home to people from many different countries, ethnicities, identities and faiths. The English title of Swades is “We, the people” and it reminds me of the new slogan, “I am Staten Island—we are Staten Island”.
Swades tells the story of Mohan, educated in the United States and working as a manager on the National Air and Space Administration’s (NASA) Global Precipitation Measurement Project which is capable of tracking sources of clean water. Mohan returns to India because of a growing sense of responsibility for the woman who cared for him as a child growing up in India. He wants to bring her back to the United States, but finds her caring for an old childhood friend, Gita, who teaches school in an impoverished village.
Upon arriving, he begins to understand more about his native India—those aspects he wants to forget and was glad to leave behind and other parts that he values and that feel like a part of his soul.
Mohan is inspired to help Gita enroll more students but discovers that traditional caste divisions between the villagers thwart unity and what he deems as progress. Ultimately, Mohan understands that his country and the people he loves are held back by poverty, illiteracy, sexism, and the classism that the villagers consider the traditional and unchangeable nature of their culture.
In the most rousing part of the film Mohan uses his engineering skills and leadership talents to inspire the villagers, from council elders to untouchables or dalits, to work together to harness a natural spring’s water to generate reliable electricity for everyone. He realizes that his heart belongs to the family he loves, the people in that small village and his native land, India. Of course his romance with Gita has a happy ending, too.
Over its history Staten Island has become the home of Dutch, English, Irish and Italians of diverse religious faiths. Now Latinos, Russians, Chinese, Liberians, Sri Lankans, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikhs grace these shores. Neighborhoods have shifted from one ethnic group to another, sometimes causing tensions between newcomers and those who settled here before.
The I Am Staten Island campaign’s basic premise parallels Gandhi’s principles echoed in SEWA, the Self Employed Women’s Association: practicing non-violence or ahimsa while understanding sarvadharma, that each one of us living or working here, no matter what faith we practice, what work we do, how we identify or where we come from, is a part of Staten Island. We all can play a part in khadi, promoting local employment and making this Island not only dynamic and vibrant, but safer and more welcoming. And we need to know the truth, satya, about the tensions between us and what economic and social currents keep us stuck and separated in the shallow shoals.
“I am Staten Island” looks at what is underneath the violence that erupted last spring and summer. There are no simple answers. We must listen to one another’s experiences as we share our stories. Like Swades song about the stars sparkling in the sky together that make the night shimmer, and the many drops that are like currents to the sea, “we, the people”—all the people, are Staten Island.
I Am Staten Island has formed a number of working groups to address community problems through education, youth engagement, policing communities and law enforcement, partnering with businesses to provide more jobs and recreation, and public relations. A ten-point plan includes this Interfaith Weekend preaching out against Hate; a religious roundtable that explores ways to build bridges between the different religions, midnight basketball, and dinners in the Port Richmond area for African Americans and Latinos to dialogue while sharing a meal.
To be successful, just like SEWA Bharat and the depiction of the villagers coming together to generate electricity, I Am Staten Island needs everyone’s energy to creatively curtail the unemployment crisis, the economic disparities, substance abuse and addiction, and widespread stereotypes about ethnic, racial and religious groups that fray the common bonds between us.
Staten Island’s problems didn’t begin last spring—they are rooted in economic and social problems that keep us from feeling that this Island is home and workplace to all of us.
Gandhi’s words ring out: “Hesitating to act because the whole vision might not be achieved, or because others do not yet share it, is an attitude that only hinders progress.” The song, Yeh Jo Des Hai Tera speaks to this call whatever our native country, which is, ultimately, our common homeland of Earth: “You are the one who should choose the path, You should choose which direction to take. This country, this soil, this land is yours.” And so it will also be the home of us all—for all of us are neighbors on Staten Island.

"Where Do We Come From, What are We, Where Are We Going?"

2010-09-30T21:09:00.000-07:00

September 19, 2010
© Rev. Susan Karlson
Three simple but profound and universal questions are posed in the title of Paul Gauguin’s painting, “Where do we come from, What are we, Where are we going?” He paints a dream that explores human life from birth to death and the meaning we make of that life along the way.
“Where do we come from?”
“Where do I come from? Where did you find me? Asks the baby of its mother. She weeps and laughs at the same time and, pressing the infant to her breasts, answers, you were hidden in my heart, darling, you were it’s desire.”
We all have this child’s question inside of us—we want to know where we come from. I am one of those people who really love history. Looking back at my life, my family and even this church help me figure out how I got from there to here.
The other day I was talking about my experiences in Gulfport, Mississippi to a friend and I realized how that short span of eleven months refueled me for my life here in Staten Island. Spending half of the month in Gulfport, I slowed down; saw my life more clearly and fortified myself for the transition to New York City, an unexpected opportunity. I saw how that had been true at other times in my life as well—times that the pressing of the accelerator to the floor gave way to a letting up on the gas, shifting gears, appreciating what was before me.
This is true in communities, too. Last year, one of our members told me how life resembles the tides. She needs the low ebb tides to follow the fast moving currents of the full. Sometimes, she said, she found that church life felt like only fast moving currents and that there wasn’t time to slow down and enjoy the slack tide.
“What are we?”
Our theme this year is “Building A New Way”. The way of building is to not burn ourselves out in the fast moving currents of everyday life—and even more so in the pace of New York City life. I learn this lesson over and over again. I have many good teachers—a whole bunch of them are people in this church.
Sometimes, ministers have a hard time with balance—news to you, I’m sure. We have a vision, we see what we think needs to be done and we charge out in that direction, not looking behind us—just full speed ahead. People around us have ways of slowing that change down, questioning, pointing out the flaw in moving too fast. It’s the natural way of a culture—it’s the way institutions work.
For the past two years the leadership of this church and I have worked hard on a Mission and Vision, on reinvigorating the Small Group Ministries, reviving a Social Justice program, revising the Bylaws and a host of other changes. We now have a new website design—it’s so beautiful—and a newsletter editor who has totally redesigned the newsletters. We are still working hard and we are certainly building a new way.
Yet, while I want this to be the year that we move ahead with the growing projects and visions we must also take time to just cherish what we are and who we have become. I want to get to know more of you and relish knowing you as people –the substance of your lives, the passions you have, the dreams and visions that occupy center stage in your life. And that is where my focus will be this year—a year of renewal, a year of appreciating one another, and a year of growing in love together.
“Where are we going?”
This past week I read these words, penned by writer George Sand: “The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. Another “I” is beginning.” (quoted in Traveling with Pomegranates, p. 143).
Last night members of the three Small Group Ministries, which met during this last church year, brainstormed some service project ideas that they might do together. All kinds of creative energy came out, exciting projects that will serve this church or the wider community. I noticed how comfortable people felt sharing with one another, risking a bold idea, listening, exploring and questioning. I see that as part of the natural gifts that Small Group Ministry offers—places where people can be themselves, enjoy a deeper relationship and share from the core of their being with people that care. This Sunday and next people can hear what these groups mean to the people involved in them and sign up for the new groups that will begin in October.
Elizabeth Terry who could not be with us today will return later in the year and lead us through an asset mapping exercise geared to help us identify what are the gifts, talents, connections and passions we have that connect with those of other people. Having gone through this exercise before, I can say that it is exciting to see how one idea connects to someone else’s, how one person’s dreams are enhanced by someone else’s. The creative process emerges and people leave with a greater sense of what is possible—where we can go from here. In these small groups and exercises is a “we” that is beginning.
In his painting Gauguin moves from depicting the intimacy of a mother and her baby to contemplation of the great mystery symbolized by the statue with outstretched arms. There is tranquility to this figure bridging youth and the old woman who is prepared to meet her death. It is the great mystery expressed in the song, “Mystery, mystery, life is a riddle and a mystery”. It is the mystery of life erupting out of the present moment. As much as we may seek to understand there are some things that cannot be explained—not through reading, reason, or science.
From the Buddhist perspective, it doesn’t matter so much where you have been or where you are going. We all get a body, we all get older, we all will die. It’s the living of this moment now that counts—savoring the luscious fruit that we’ve reached for and acknowledging the bitter herbs that work their way into our diet as well. Awareness and acceptance of all of our joy and our sorrow will better bring us equanimity and peace.
Our past is the parent of our present, the child who was hidden in our heart, who was our desire. And we now are that present child asking, “Where do I come from? What am I? Where am I going?” And we will always be.

“Return Again”—A Water Ceremony near Yom Kippur”

2010-09-30T20:57:00.000-07:00

September 12, 2010
© Rev. Susan Karlson
I served as chaplain at the Ground Zero Memorial for families and workers lost on 9/11. In a way, families of those who died on 9/11 returned again to that place of loss and sorrow, laying flowers on the reflecting pools, listening to the names, spending moments of silence as bells tolled at the times when each Tower was attacked and when they fell. And I was there just to be a presence with them—to hand out tissues or to offer a bottle of water, take a photo if they wished. It’s nothing complicated, just being present with someone. But it is important to recognize our common humanity, the suffering of the families and friends who still go through such painful loss, which is written on their faces, in the trace of their tears and in the flowers they placed on the reflecting pool.
As one reader said, “do not make this a celebration. This is a somber time.” True enough. I saw there the children growing up who lost parents nine years ago. There are the spouses and partners who lost their love. There are parents who mourn the loss of a child—something no parent ever should do. There are the friends invited to be a part of the ongoing lives of the surviving family members. There I was for the first time, a witness to the power of “returning again”, to looking back, and then continuing with the whole holy stuff of our lives. That day, that place was solely for the grieving families, the survivors of that tragic day. I understood in a way I couldn’t by merely reading the news or even talking to singular surviving family members how precious and sacred that space is for them on that anniversary.
The High Holy Days of the Jewish people and the whole month of fasting, prayer and good works for Ramadan are significant holy days for Jews and Muslims—aimed at making people better people, more able to love one another and to care for each other when someone is hurting or hungry, sick, or in need. Eid-ul-Fitr, the celebration at the end of Ramadan and Rosh Hashanah overlap slightly this year and coincide with the ninth memorial of the attacks on the World Trade Center.
Our Celebration this morning is about just that kind of care and wholeness. At the beginning of the service, we lifted up the Jewish practice of Tashlikh, casting bread or pebbles in a flowing stream to remember how we want to cast out the harm we’ve done to others and offer a practice of seeking forgiveness for ourselves and one another. The president of our congregation reminded us of the dangers of Islamophobia and Antisemitism. We might also remember the spirit of welcome here after this summer of attacks on our neighbors, on those thought to be “other” whether the “Other” is Mexican or Russian, Gay, Black or White.
Our Water stories remind us that water is recycled over and over and so are we—we return again to the cycles of this church—the water ceremony, the church barbecue, the anniversary of the founding of the church, the Memorial Garden Anniversary and joining with people new to the community just moving here, finding this church for the first time and celebrating others who have left this community whether through death or moving on to another place. It is this community that honors all people and all life, that carries us in the currents of support and love no matter what we are going through. It is this community whose concerns broaden to include those who feel unsafe or unwelcome, who are afraid and who hurt. It is to this community that we return again—we return again in love.
My favorite reading at this time of year, well, really for most of the year, is a Litany of Atonement by Robert Eller-Isaacs. It is about forgiving “ourselves and each other”—beginning “again in love.” He writes, “for remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference”, “for each time we have struck out in anger without just cause”, “for the selfishness which sets us apart and alone”, “for losing sight of our unity”, “we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.”
And so may we start this church year and our lives in general—may we forgive ourselves and each other; may we begin again and “return again” in love.

"Bringing Us Back To Now"--An Animal Blessing

2010-09-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

Bringing Us Back To Now~How Animals Care For Us
© Rev. Susan Karlson

We are all animals. Today, we celebrate the non-human animals among us, the rich interdependent web of life that holds us close and that affects all of us.
Animals live in the now. Sure, they may nudge us to get their kibbles a little sooner or get a little weirded out if their routines are upset that we’ve created, not them. But our pets live in the present moment. In that way, they teach us something about appreciating the golden present, this “now” that the golden retrieval brings its owner back to over and over—with a “bow wow, bow-wow, bow-wow”.

When my cat Blue notices that we are approaching the door, he gets as close as he can to scoot out the door though he is an indoor cat. Getting out, he expects us to scoop him up again but yesterday we watched as he found the dry dirt outside and just rolled over and over in it. He loves the smells of this church, all of the outdoor cats that crawl up on the chairs on our porch, all of the wild opossums, squirrels, birds and critters that live outside our doors and have left their scent. And Lilly, our dog, who takes two walks a day is as infatuated by this church and its smells and many areas of wonder.

Now, I’m not thinking we’re going to go around sniffing like the cats and dogs but there is something about seeing an area as if it is fresh and new. There is something about looking out the window and noticing the birds and listening to their songs and the sounds of children, lawnmowers, and the leaves blowing in the trees—that brings us back. And it strikes me that our pets and other non-human folks are not the only ones who often experience life this way for if we look at children—they see each moment as an opportunity to take in something for the first time or even something familiar but to realize how it is different.

For all of us, nature around us calls us back to this moment, the only one that we can have an effect on. Just as with Buddha’s birth as an antelope, what matters is how we work together, how we build a new way in this moment, this time right before us. We can get ourselves out of some pretty tight jams if we work together. We can free ourselves from old, stale ideas and we can build a healthier place for all of us—feathered, finned, four-legged, two-legged, furry or hairless. With all our senses, we can take in our world and the habitats we share, trying to “do no harm” as the Buddha taught and being aware of the creatures we affect through our sometimes careless and selfish actions.

Lynn Ungar who works with the Religious Education department of the Church of the Larger Fellowship wrote this Animal Blessing prayer:
“…We give thanks for these our non-human friends…” and send out our love …to the animals who live lives of service …such as guide dogs, police horses, search-and-rescue dogs to pet therapy cats. We ask for blessings on the cats and dogs who roam the streets hungry and without homes, and send our prayers for the …animals whose lives and habitats are threatened by…humans that affect the land, water and seas that are their homes.
“May we care for the wild ones whom we rarely see as much as we care for those who greet us at the door...” “May there be Frisbees for the dogs and sunny sofas for the cats, friendly shoulders for the parakeets and cockatoos and warm rocks for the lizards and snakes. May there be food for the hungry and shelter for the cold, play for the young, and rest for the weary.” So may it be. Amen.

Staten Island SI Advance Articles on Mosque and Community Center in Midland Beach and July Prayer Vigil

2010-08-11T23:40:00.000-07:00

Clergy Response to the animosity surrounding sale of a long unused convent to Muslim American Society on Staten Island:
http://www.silive.com/eastshore/index.ssf/2010/06/feds_stonewall_mcmahon_on_mas.html

Clergy Response to Violence on Staten Island and support of I Am Staten Island campaign:
http://www.silive.com/northshore/index.ssf/2010/07/islanders_take_a_stand_against.html

Prayer Vigil, July 29, 2010

We are Staten Island clergy, religious leaders and members joining as one body this evening to offer our prayers for healing, strength, and a spirit of community renewal.
We all are Staten Island and we say that this violent spring and summer must end. The ten Latino men beaten since last April are Staten Island and each of their attackers is also Staten Island. The Russian woman beaten in Grasmere. The African American youth beaten in South Beach. The gay couple, Luis and Richard Vieira, attacked on this site several weeks ago are Staten Island and so are the people that attacked them. Though we have different beliefs, cultures and customs in our respective religions, we stand united that targeted violence against anyone is unacceptable and we are committed to make Staten Island a place where all people are safe and welcome.
Each of our diverse faith communities are Staten Island . Each religion teaches that we are all members of one human family that should strive to understand one another and treat one another with dignity and respect.
As Staten Islanders, we affirm that violence against anyone because of the color of their skin is unacceptable. Beating someone because they come from another country to work and care for their families cannot be tolerated. Violence based on someone practicing a different religion is a breach of the holy books and teachings of each religion. As faith leaders, we do not condone religious violence. Targeting people for violence because of their sexual orientation or identity is contrary to the teachings of our religions and cannot be tolerated. Antagonizing those living in poverty or the homeless has no place on Staten Island.
We all are Staten Island and we have a responsibility to build bridges of unity, tolerance and respect, “BE” the example to our children who are the future of Staten Island that these values can be lived in peace, harmony & unity. On this sacred ground where violence once occurred, we bring a united spirit of hope and courage, we bring compassion, steadfast love, we bring our prayers and our commitment to foster greater understanding of one another and to foster peace.

This Hot Summer in Staten Island

2010-08-10T16:28:00.000-07:00

This morning we held a Clergy Roundtable at the Unitarian Church of Staten Island with NYC council speaker Christine Quinn, NYC council woman, Debi Rose and Assemblyman Matthew Titone about what clergy can do to respond to the summer's sweltering heat on Staten Island that has come less from the 90+ temperatures than the explosion of violence, fear and alleged hate crimes.

During the meeting, I had a deja vu experience paralleling my first week on the Gulf Coast three years ago. I had particular images of Mississippi and the rest of those "deep south" states and the bigotry and racism that I was sure went along with them. My first week in Mississippi, I attended community meetings of a rainbow coalition coming together around the enduring aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Here I found people working together from various organizations, religions and racial and ethnic groups in a way that I hadn't experienced in much larger cities or urban areas. That same week, this organization hosted men from Iraq who visited to find out how local Gulf Coast communities handled disasters and fostered reconciliation and healing. It opened a floodgate for me--one of being present to what was happening in the moment, dismantling preconceived notions and generalized geographical prejudices.

Before I arrived in Staten Island, I heard about the racism and the North/South Shore divide. You can't live here long without observing some of this hateful behavior but to say that this is the norm for Staten Island is to shut one's eyes to the people in every neighborhood who go out of their way to help their neighbors and would do anything for another person--the young Latino man who helps a young White child with a cart full of water bottles get on and off the bus with his heavy load, the young Black man whose groceries are leaking and the older White woman who hands him an extra bag and the men and women from countries all over the world who share their stories with you if you just listen to them and smile in their direction.

Yes, Staten Island is suffering right now from a rash of violence and alleged hate crimes. Headline after headline includes violence and racial and ethnic slurs against Latinos, denigration of Muslims seeking a new location for a much needed mosque and community center, attacks on a gay couple eating an early morning meal at a local restaurant, the beating of a Russian woman, an attack on several young Black men and the brutal murders of her four children by an unemployed mother who then killed herself, leaving a neighborhood to grieve and wonder "what can we do in such desperate times as this?" There is no denying that we need to address the pain that is saturating our borough like a blanket of humid air settling over us.

But it would be wrong to think that violence defines Staten Island, that we are monocultural, one race or one religion. Staten Island is extremely diverse. We have a wealth of cultural, ethnic and religious diversity and I'm proud to call myself a Staten Islander. Through this long painful summer, we have come together as one community to say that each and every one of us is Staten Island. We have formed Anti Violence Task Forces and Clergy groups and I have witnessed some of the victims of these alleged hate crimes attend rallies and task forces and share their stories- asking for unity, asking for peace, asking for us to all work together as one. We are acknowledging the impact of joblessness and poverty. We recognize we have a lot of work to do.

The "I am Staten Island" campaign, initiated by city councilwoman, Debi Rose, with widespread community support has proposed a 10 point plan. Speaker Quinn asked for our input this morning, that this plan may end up being 100 or 1000 or more points to it. The clergy involved are dedicated to reach out to youth, to gangs, to open our doors so that there are safe places for people to go; so that there are activities for our youth and so that there is education, dialogue and outreach regarding diversity and respect for all. There are business leaders meeting together to come up with plans for jobs and mentoring for youth and those who can't find employment, and education programs planned, bringing back the successful "Respect for All" curriculum. Check out iamsi.info for a listing of activities, programs and new plans as they emerge. You will see that the Staten Island depicted in movies and bantered about by people who have not updated their impressions in decades, is archaic.

We are half a million people with cultures including Latinos,Sri Lankans, Liberians, and people from many different Asian and African countries. We are Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh,Unitarian Universalist, and people with no religious affiliation. Our skin colors range from deepest mahogany and cocoa to vivid earth tones, peach and ivory hues.Despite this "heated" summer, many of us here on Staten Island have chosen to be proactive and to do something about the "heat wave". We have our share of problems and racism and hate crimes are a part of what we need to address, but that is a very limited understanding of who we are and how we stand together. We are Staten Island and we will make it through this hot summer--TOGETHER!

Reflection on Immigration Reform and my NYC civil disobedience

2010-06-11T17:44:00.000-07:00

The Unitarian Church of Staten Island that I serve has focused many of its Standing on the Side of Love services on immigration this year—inviting speakers from the Liberian and Sri Lankan communities, and from organizations like El Centro del Inmigrante and Make the Road New York. A central charge of the Staten Island Clergy Leadership group has been to address the alarming rise in anti-immigrant violence fueled by ignorance and fear. So when I learned of the act of civil disobedience planned to encourage the Obama administration to finally make comprehensive reform of immigration policy a top priority I committed myself to a personal act in support of my beliefs.

As 56 of us linked arms and walked into the street to block traffic in front of the Federal Plaza where many immigrants and their families face deportation every day we sang We Shall Overcome. There were taunts from others who opposed our action, but I felt the strong cloud of witnesses to justice in whose line we stood. For me, it was a reaffirmation of my commitment to be a white ally and my calling to the Unitarian Universalist ministry, which was forged in the anti-racism work of our Association. Those of us willing to be arrested were treated well by the police and the judicial system. I know that the many immigrants arrested each day know real fear as families are shattered by immigration and naturalization policies and practices that reinforce a system of “us” and “them”. We risked very little on this one day while immigrants risk being deported, losing their jobs and being treated like criminals every day. Arizona SB 1070 and other bills of this sort will only fuel more violence, racism, distrust and fear.

Members of my congregation individually work tirelessly for legal and social services to immigrants in New York City and Staten Island. They are witnesses to the daily tragedy for immigrants in all the boroughs of New York City.

As a result of my act of civil disobedience and the church reaching out to immigrant communities this year, immigration coalitions are hoping that we will act in solidarity with them to make Staten Island a safer, healthier and more just place to live. I believe we can make a difference if together we stand on the side of love and justice.

http://standing-firm.chttp://standing-firm.com/

Rev. Susan Karlson in the yellow Standing on the Side of love t shirt with the purple stole on the left behind the men in orange shirts.

Participants released the following joint statement concerning today’s civil disobedience action:
“Being conscientiously of opinion that our current immigration laws betray our core principles of democracy, inclusiveness and justice; that they allow for Arizona’s immoral and unconstitutional SB1070; and that their continued enforcement through detention and deportation separates families and destroys communities; we are compelled to escalate our call for Comprehensive Immigration Reform in the face of inaction from our nation’s elected representatives.
“Today we stand in solidarity with the millions who contribute to our communities and economy while being denied full access to them. Our act of civil disobedience is performed with the belief that our laws can—and should—be better, and that our nation’s leaders cannot stand on the sidelines as our society’s core values are betrayed by a broken and immoral immigration system.
“We invite the enforcement of the law upon ourselves in the hope that our arrest today will be the catalyst for principled leadership from the President and Congress and for meaningful Comprehensive Immigration Reform that will put an end to the arrests and other mistreatments faced by our friends, families, congregations, and communities.”
—Unity Statement Signed by Those Arrested

Blogging after a year's hiatus

2009-08-19T14:18:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed blogging when I was in Mississippi. I found a certain amount of fulfillment being able to collect my thoughts and express my musings. Though I often thought about restarting my blog, I never got to it this past year as I settled into my new role as minister in Staten Island. So here I am in August of 2009, intent on blogging again.

There have been a few transitions to make in moving from Wilmington, NC and Gulfport, MS to New York City. Some claim that Staten Island is not really a part of the city--it's really a little provincial island unto itself; a bit of extended suburbia. Yet when I go through the neighborhoods with their diverse communities and take the bus, there is no mistaking that this small land mass called Staten Island, home to half a million people, is part of the city. Though we are one of the five boroughs of New York City, we have no public hospital here and I know that many people have to spend days in the emergency room waiting for a bed. We are often labeled "the forgotten borough" and I often find this to be true--in terms of health care, exorbitant tolls to get to work or to get home, and the underfunded mass transit here on Staten Island.

Like other parts of New York City, we are part of a diverse community that calls to me. Down the street there is a Spanish speaking church, and a local Catholic church provides meals every week. In the church I serve, we provide a safe and comfortable haven each and every night of the week to ten to fifteen men. We provide performance space to community theatre groups of all ages and art exhibit space often during the year. We hold services on Gay Pride and Marriage Equality. We address universal health care, immigration, prison ministry, and the high price of war and tough economic times. We hold Summer Forums on what it's like to be a Muslim on Staten Island, ethical eating, and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. These programs are not unlike those held by other Unitarian Universalist congregations or many other denominations. This borough is known for its pushback on people of color, immigrants, people with different sexual orientations and its amazing ability to retain the status quo despite thousands of people moving here and calling this island "home."

When I ride the bus or engage in one of my favorite pastimes, people watching, I see a different Staten Island. I remember riding home on the bus one late night. A man stood on the bus with his grocery bag leaking. Someone casually pointed this out to him while another passenger gave him one of her bags to put his groceries in. I have witnessed young men so often stereotyped as not caring about anyone else, move over so someone else can sit down and they have this unmistakable look of compassion and care on their face that just makes me smile. I have seen countless acts of mercy and good will walking or riding down the streets. I have seen the rudeness and heard the honks and the cursing too but that doesn't undo my love for this city and my hope that we can transform it with a spirit of feisty love, dedication and commitment.

A new church year begins in two weeks. We will start the year off with a Blessing of the Animals and our annual church picnic, a water ceremony, ingathering and Staff Appreciation Sunday. We have a new Religious Education Coordinator, Board, and Chairs of various committees. I had several wonderful trips this summer--to our Unitarian Universalist General Assembly in Salt Lake City, to San Francisco and Pt. Reyes National Seashore and to an Adaptive Leadership conference in Boston, Massachusetts. I approach this September inspired and rested and ready to begin again!

Blessings on your journey,
Susan

The Knoxville, Tennessee Shootings on July 27, 2008

2008-08-09T11:48:00.001-07:00

In Tragic Times Like These,
We Come Together in Love, Compassion and Support

Rev. Susan Karlson
Gulf Coast Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
August 3, 2008

I need the parable of the mustard seed this week. I have been reading news articles and minister chats, and op ed pieces all week long about the shootings in Tennessee. My heart has a little kink in it—I can’t seem to get the knot out. It feels like when they drained the fire hydrants outside my apartment because the pipes were sending out brown rusted water. Something in my soul needs flushing. Some hope needs tending. Some mustard seed needs to flourish. But it feels instead like something is broken into shards like the shots fired out last Sunday in Knoxville, Tennessee.

In the fall of 2001, I began my internship in Annapolis, Maryland. I took a few seminary classes at the same time—one on the Psalms and the other on Job. Looking back, I can see how much I needed those two classes. Less than a week after I started my classes and internship, the Twin Towers toppled and the Pentagon plummeted under the attacks of 9/11. I remember feeling numb, contemplating my daughter’s welfare who had just moved to New York, the world spiraling out of control before me.

That is where the Psalms came in. My professor, Denise Hopkins, had just completed a book on the Psalms. In it, she talked about the four seasons of that poetic book. The four seasons included a time of beginnings, excitement, passion; a time of dissolution and disorientation, a time for readjustment and reorientation, what I call the in-between-ness of life and a time for renewal and the birth of hope and vision. There in that numb, dislocated place, I pondered the question of the Psalmist—oh my God, why have you forsaken me? Why have you forsaken us? What is wrong with us human beings that we could do such a hideous thing? How will we ever live to hope and dream again?

Well of course we do. The human spirit is resilient. It is wise and brave and daring. It is that spirit that infused the Tennessee congregations even when they were in the midst of their personal agony. It is that way of life that becomes your default setting when you are in the midst of a crisis. You live out the fears, the ingenuity, the backlog of your life that informs how you are going to approach a rudderless time in your life. Greg McKendry had his default set and it was pretty clear that he didn’t need to think or worry; he just acted in the best interest of those children, their parents and the rest of the congregation. Those brave souls that wrestled Jim Adkisson to the ground also had their default system in place. They acted on auto-pilot within seconds of the attack. They are not just heroes—they are wise intuitive souls and their love and compassion and bravery showed up in that moment.

But I am not saying that it is bad if our response, if our default position, is set differently. We all wonder if we would act in a similar vein if something of such horrific magnitude happened to us. That is where the seasons come in—they strip our egos of right and wrong, presumed patterns we all should follow. They put us in the now of life as Eckhart Tolle describes in his book, The New Earth. They allow us to be aware of what we are feeling in this instant, to immerse ourselves in this moment, not to moralize ourselves into some future place we ought to be in.

I think we jump too quickly sometimes from disorientation to new beginnings. We push away the doubts and try to put a band aid on our wounds so we won’t know we hurt. We wipe away all the natural feelings we have in a tragic time like this so we can feel happy, certain and safe. My friends, life is just not ever certain. There is one certainty on this physical plane and that is that we have a body and we will lose this body one day. Meanwhile, we have this present instant—this second here now—the golden present. Feel that now-this one second-tick tock. Now we are on to the next one.

These days following the Tennessee shootings of our sister congregations is a wake up call. I am not saying we need tragedy to give us a wake up call, to call us to attention. But often tragedies mobilize that awareness within us; they transform us through the crucible of fire and cause some shift within us. We can ask ourselves where we are right now—in a time of disorientation and pain, undergoing a period of crisis, feeling that we are forsaken by those we love, perhaps even our understanding of God or the Divine in our lives. Or are we in a holding pattern, managing in the in-between spaces. Are we facing new beginnings, an exciting time of possibility or adventure? Or are we reorienting, resetting our compass to true north, aligned with the core of our being?

At the end of the course on the Psalms, we planned a chapel service and let everyone pick a color of yarn of their choice representing the seasons. I chose gray because I felt that my life was dissolving—not a negative thing. One has to die to be reborn, to thrive and grow. Four short months later, my mother had surgery for cancer and my cat was diagnosed with a lymphoma and died within the month. The dissolution continued, the grief and sorrow were indescribable but out of that chaos, a new life began for me and for my mother. Like the phoenix rising out of the ashes, sometimes the disorientation cycle brings us to a new birth, a greater hope, a brighter calling.

Out of the desperation and despair, hope shines forth. And that cycle of the seasons in the Psalms is like the first tiny shoots of the mustard seed in the Parable of Jesus recounted in our story for all ages. The mustard seed sprouts, emerging from the cold, barren ground. The mustard seed parable has deep meaning if we ride with it down all its metaphorical meanings. The mustard seed is that small bit of infinity that is programmed to just “be”. It is our nature to set seed, to nurture that fragile growth of this birth, to tend to one another and support one another as we realize our true nature and the spirit that is our essence. In that place, we grow from the tiny mustard size to the fully embodied spreading mustard tree, sheltering and nurturing all life that we are connected to and in deep relationship with.

And so it is with us in solidarity with sisters and brothers in Knoxville or other places where prayers and support dispel that false notion of isolation. For deep down we are all connected by a mighty taproot and we cannot really dislodge that connection through acts of hate or bitterness.

Knowledge of trauma and recovery processes tells us that one trauma will reactivate a past trauma. That is actually the way of the mind and the ego altogether. It will latch onto something that fuels its engines and run with it. In these times, it is often necessary to be gentle with ourselves, to not fault ourselves because we are moving slowly through healing, forgiveness and getting on with our lives. There is no right or wrong speed of moving through disorientation, orientation, reorientation and renewal. We just observe ourselves and our thoughts and feelings.

We can’t stand the uncertainty of life—not knowing if we might be targeted, if disaster may strike or strike again! We need to safeguard our children, put trauma response protocols in effect and do what we can to handle a future emergency. But no security policies or personnel, no emergency preparedness, locks or gates or lockdown procedures will guarantee awful events won’t happen. As the Buddha revealed, the human life is full of suffering but there are ways to awareness, a way through the darkness and the pain. There are ways to plant the mustard seed of hope and heaven on earth that will flourish as it unfolds in its time and in its unique way.

The good news of the past week is that people from every denomination and religion rallied around the Tennessee congregations with an outpouring of prayers, love and support. More people are learning some truths about Unitarian Universalism, and liberal religion through this tragedy.

The mustard seed parable plants a larger vision in our hearts—it is the power of love that continues to grow though it is threatened by larger and more pernicious weeds and vines. The love keeps right on growing, irrespective of the force bent on killing it. There are some things that cannot be eradicated. In Knoxville, the hate that burst out last Sunday could not drown out the spirit of that church—for “love is the spirit of that church and service is its law”. That is the birthright of each of us as mustard seeds in the fertile ground, becoming more aware of how closely we are tied together in a “network of mutuality”.

I read a beautiful illustration of the power of love and hope and the season of renewal recounted by the religious education director at Tennessee Valley, Brian Griffin. First Baptist in downtown Knoxville held an ecumenical service with more than 150 people in attendance. Two candles symbolized the lives of Greg McKendry and Linda Kraeger who died last Sunday. After the altar candles were lit, Brian Griffin lit a third. “This candle sat in the middle of a chalice decorated with a painting of smiling children holding hands that Griffin carried to the church.”

He said he grabbed the chalice almost instinctively as he left the church. The chalice means a lot to the “children who were traumatized last Sunday, who saw one of the worst acts I have ever witnessed in my 51 years, and they lived through it.”

“And it is their resilience and the resilience of this community that has caused me to see the hope that will come.” Lighting the chalice there was “a symbol of love.”

“I lost sight of that during the shooting; I lost sight of that for moments [on Monday]. But I have not lost sight of it now. I have never felt more confident in the power of love.”

Let us not lose sight of the power of love and hope—a force so strong that Martin Luther King reminded us: “hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear, only love can do that.” May each of us find the season of our life in our midst. May we find reassurance and a calm center in us that grows as the tiniest mustard seed and spreads out to Knoxville to shelter our own spirits and those who feel great suffering and in pain at this very hour. May it be so.

Sermon--Truth and Reconciliation in Mississippi

2008-07-31T19:33:00.000-07:00

The Rev. Susan Karlson

July 6, 2008

As a child, I remember watching television court dramas like Perry Mason. Witnesses swore to “tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” As an adult juror, I heard a similar oath taken when people took the witness stand.

I doubt we Americans are so devoted to telling the whole truth. Children are taught glamorous versions of our history. A student of James Loewen’s, the author of Lies My Teacher Told Me, even claimed “[Abraham Lincoln] was born in a log cabin which he built with his own hands” (p. 184). Think about that for a minute--why can’t our heroes and heroines be ordinary people who do some extra-ordinary things that we hope to emulate?

I confess to some big misconceptions about Mississippi. Last month I rounded out my view of Mississippi history with a trip I made to Natchez that totally blew me away. I saw the Native American Indian Mounds. I felt a sense of awe, climbing the thirty foot Emerald Mounds, piled high by the Natchez people long before white settlers arrived. I saw these incredible historical murals in Vicksburg with children from different races playing together in the fountains downtown in the sweltering Mississippi heat.

But the most transformative time for me was stopping at the Natchez Museum for the Preservation of African American Culture. The interpreter told me stories about the African American heritage in Natchez and the state of Mississippi for over an hour—some parts were radiant, others tragic.

Mississippi elected two African American United States Senators in its history. When you consider that there have been only five African American U.S. senators in all of American history, you see Mississippi anew. He told me about a law prohibiting the importation of anymore slaves from Africa. Creative Northern businessmen found a way around it—ships sailed to Caribbean ports and then transported their human cargo to the South. Plantation owners didn’t live in the South however—they lived in the North and only came down here when it was time to sell the king cotton crop. Racism and slavery is a blight-filled legacy that mars all parts of this country.

African American and Native American museums, heritage tours and itineraries are so popular now that they are overcoming many local citizens’ fears that people will be shocked and scared away by the truth. I believe in
another reality—that we are able to deal with the truth when we hear it, that the human spirit is eager to hear about real people who made all-too human mistakes, just like we do. Telling real life stories about historical people and events can embolden us to work to counter the sting of racism in and around us.

As I left Natchez, I stopped at the Forks of the Road auction block. This is the site of the second largest auction block in the United States, second only to the one in New Orleans. It felt eerie to walk on land where our African sisters and brothers were bought and sold. And though I felt a kind of grief that left me breathless, I wanted to be a fearless witness to that historic agony because it affirms the importance of investing my energy in racial justice work.

Unitarian Universalist history is full of abolitionists, martyrs and those who worked for racial justice. But that’s not the complete story. At antiracism Jubilee World workshops, we often start by creating a Wall of History. We tape newsprint paper on every wall and write the people and events we can remember that sought to eliminate racism and strove for racial justice. But we also dedicate portions of the wall to the names and events that reinforced racism. In this way, we begin our work by telling the whole truth about Unitarian Universalism, not merely some myth about who we are.

In my experience, this work of truth and reconciliation is powerful and transformational. Some years ago, my mother researched our family history and she found that our family owned two slaves. My mother quite confidently felt that she had nothing to do with that, she didn’t condone it and it was way before her time. She was right, of course. None of us need be ashamed of actions taken by family members long before we were born.

But I have another perspective. I figure if your family is dependent on the servitude of others to make ends meet, no matter how poor a farmer you are or how well you treat those you enslave, there is something inbred in your attitudes about relationships with other people. And unless you are aware, you will likely pass those unconscious attitudes on to your children and your children’s children and on beyond that, forever. I realize it is up to me to rectify my attitude and my relationships, knowing that part of my family history.

We all live in a country that justified slavery for centuries and fostered unwritten laws to deny the worth and dignity of all people. That history is embedded in our national DNA. My message this morning is about asking
ourselves what messages we received that are life giving and which ones to discard because they enslave us to fear and constrict our hearts.

If you examine most Unitarian Universalist congregations in Mississippi and the nation, you’ll see we have few people of color. Particularly in Mississippi, our congregations don’t adequately reflect the racial mix of Mississippians in general. It might behoove this congregation to hold a Jubilee workshop or some other such event even if more people of color never come here. It might give you a clearer sense of your history, values and priorities as you imagine the future of this Fellowship.

This congregation is blessed to be part of a rainbow coalition, the Steps Coalition, where Vietnamese Boat people work alongside Latinos and Latinas brought here to do recovery work. People from the Turkey Creek project brought the FEMA trailer they’ve driven across the country to the
Unitarian Universalist General Assembly held last month in Florida to let people know the situation here in Mississippi. This is the beautiful side of Mississippi life — uniting to address common needs.

In this country, people from European American backgrounds have a certain amount of inherent power and privilege because of the perception of being white. It is possible to create a different future if we use that power and privilege to tell the truth about our history and work on reconciliation.

I stopped by a park near the beach in my Gulfport neighborhood. Family members celebrated a young teen’s birthday. I was the only white person in that park. I approached an empty swing and a young man began talking to me, telling me about his relatives and identifying each child’s relationship to him. And later, some girls in the family asked me to give them a push on the swing. One girl asked if this was my park or if I built it.

I like to think that our interactions opened up something inside of each of us—that to them, I became at least one white woman who could be trusted to swing them or a person interested in their family celebrations and how much they mean to one another. That experience reminded me once again how I carry my white skin privilege and power wherever I go and how my whole experience here in Mississippi has transformed and opened my heart. This is not just the amorphous deep South to me now but you have shown me that Mississippi calls diverse people to learn and work together. May each of us listen for the whole truth and swear by it, day by day.

Truth and Reconciliation in Mississippi

2008-07-10T01:33:00.000-07:00

After coming to Mississippi each month since October, I decided to visit some of the sites
on the African American and Native American travel itineraries. I traveled to Natchez and Vicksburg and took these photos. I'll include my sermon by the same title shortly.

Emerald Mound, ancient Natchez Indian site
Natchez Trace Parkway in Mississippi

Downtown Natchez Historic Home
"Beyond the Gate", my title

Historic Mural,
Vicksburg, Mississippi

Fork of the Roads, Natchez, Mississippi
site of the 2nd largest
auction block in the United
States

Life From Both Sides Now--Attack of the Nesting Terns

2008-07-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

© Rev. Susan Karlson
I wrote about the attack of the nesting terns in my July minister's column for the Gulf Coast Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in coast Mississippi. I was walking along the beach in Gulfport, feeling the cool summer breeze on my skin when I noticed a sign with instructions to stay off the beach because terns were nesting there. I walked on the sidewalk, but suddenly noticed hundreds of terns circling above me, dive bombing me as I walked. I looked to see if I missed nests on the sidewalk or if there was another sign. No, no nests, no more signs. The tactics of the terns worked somewhat--they got my attention. I would have walked away completely but I was afraid I'd really step on a nest if I skirted the sidewalk and what righteous bird would nest on hot pavement anyway? Some birds strategically aimed their droppings just to make sure I got the point--"You are not welcome here. Get out!"

I kept checking the cement. I did see one flailing featherless chick-- with wings spread out twice the size of its scrawny little body. All my motherly instincts were to cradle the young one in my arms and protect it from the June heat and the scorching pavement. Ah, but I remembered the birds and their droppings and decided against it. It was their job to safeguard their brood and they seemed to figure I was some kind of large bird of prey.

I thought about the letter of the law which I obeyed. I was not stepping on the beach; I was not in official nesting tern territory. I was doing the right thing and yet...

How like a human to consider how this experience relates to human beings! I was right--the bird nests weren't there on the sidewalk. No danger for them from me really. But they were right too--and after all, they weren't adept at reading signs. There was one little chick there, all alone, crying out in need and they were doing their best to cradle that chick in the way they could--dive bombing the intruder.

We humans tend to neglect looking at the other point of view. We know we're right but from the other side of the earth/sky continuum, they are right too. They have roles to play and every instinct in them is finely tuned to carry out their responsibilities until that baby bird grows up and leaves the nest to carry on the tradition.

Liberal religions like Unitarian Universalism honor the traditions of other religions and diverse cultures. Each person has the right and the responsibility to make their own way down the road of life and we encourage others in their spiritual search. But we are all human and we too get stuck in legalistic thinking. We get entrenched in doing things like we've always done them.

Maybe it's enough that we notice this time that there are two sides with valid perspectives and we take the time to reflect on these matters. Maybe next time we'll consider a different route that doesn't turn flocks of birds into defenders of their region. Maybe, just maybe, this little incident has something to teach us about how we approach one another in our families and our communities. And probably it is equally apt in this political climate in this country and in our relationships with people from other countries. It matters where we walk and how we choose to meet those on the journey--whether two-leggeds, four-leggeds, slithering or swimming creatures or the winged migrants that share this path with us. A little more tolerance and forethought, and a bit less arrogance may change the dynamics enough to make the planet more sustainable and help us consider the impact of our actions and our presence in the web of life. That is my perspective looking at "life from both sides now". I hope it flies!