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

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.