February 11, 2007 Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley
Once upon a time, so long ago that I was your age…
Once upon a time, so long ago that it seems like just yesterday
a group of boys and girls were sitting in a circle
in a Unitarian church.
We were wondering about God, and we were taking turns
saying what we thought about God.
Mark said, “I think about God when I look at the stars and I wonder where they came from.”
Tom said, “Sometimes I think on the other side of the stars there must be a big brick wall where everything ends, but then I wonder what’s on the other side of the brick wall.
Carol said, “I think about God when I think about time. I remember yesterday, and the day before yesterday…and I just keep going back, thinking there was always a day before, before I was born, before my Mom was born, it just keeps going back, forever.
Maria said, “I think time goes on forever. There will always be a tomorrow. The sun sets at night and rises in the morning, forever, even after we die.
Karen said, “I think about God when we go to the mountains, or, like last summer, when we went to the ocean, and I stood on the beach and just watched the waves roll in.
We were quiet for a minute, then someone said,
“Michael, you haven’t said anything. What do you think?”
Michael said, “Well no one has ever asked me before what I think.
Thank you. I guess I think about it differently:
God is the love I feel for you and the love I know you feel for me.”
We realized there are so many ways to think about God.
Last weekend I visited the church where, so many years ago, we had this
conversation. I even saw some of the friends who were part of it, all
grown up.
And I thought about you, young people in this church,
and I hope you will think about what God is, and
that you will make friendships with one another that will last a lifetime.
About the time we had that conversation
a Unitarian minister who worked with youth groups wrote a song.
This was in 1954 and the Unitarians and the Universalists
were still two separate groups.
The youth groups were the first to merge, and this was their song:
We would be one as now we join in singing
our hymn of youth to pledge ourselves anew
to that high cause of greater understanding
of who we are and what in us is true.
We would be one in living for each other
to show to all a new community.
That song is now number 318 in our hymnbooks…though one word has
been changed. Now it says we would be one as now we join in singing
our hymn of love…
As we sing this song, I invite you to go to your classes…
make friends, and have some deep and important conversation!
People want to know what you think.
Rev. Bill Hamilton-Holway
Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley
February 11, 2007
A week ago, Barbara and I were in Oklahoma, with my family, celebrating my Dad’s life at his memorial service. I want to thank all of you who have been so caring, expressing in so many ways your condolences and support. On this two-week emotional journey I have been upheld by your love and compassion.
Dad’s memorial service was held in the church in Tulsa his parents founded , and where their ashes are scattered, and now, some of his. It’s the same church I talked about in our story, where my friends and I as children considered the nature of the divine.
Being in All Souls Unitarian Church again brought back many memories and some reflections on the nature of religious community.
It was a great gift to be raised in religious freedom. In my ministry I have heard the stories of countless people who suffered emotionally and spiritually from the imposition of beliefs and even abuse by people in positions of religious authority. What I learned, was the struggle to be true to myself, to discern the depths of my own understanding and commitment. I learned that it matters what I think.
It took me a long time to understand how fundamentally different our approach to religion is from those who turn to a scripture, or a dogma, or a person as the ultimate, final authority. We come from a religious tradition that holds the opposite view. We stand in the present, informed by the past, but with our eye on the future. Revelation is not sealed. The nature of existence is on-going change. Truth is always evolving for the divine spirit is creativity, and it resides in each one of us.
Our religious tradition calls us into community to support one another being agents of truth’s revelation. We honor the worth and dignity of each person, in spite of the cruelty of which we are capable, because we believe we each may speak truth that offers healing and transformation.
We are called into community so that we don’t get so wrapped up in our individual version of reality that we miss important perspectives. Most of us remember Henry David Thoreau for his building a cabin and living in the woods at Walden Pond, outside of Concord, Massachusetts. We often forget that Thoreau walked into Concord almost every day. This man who loved the solitary life knew the value of community.
The nature of existence is that we each experience on-going change from only one perspective. I stand on my spot. You stand on yours.
We need one another to get the larger view.
We need one another to remind us that we are connected more than we know, that we are interdependent, that together our lights may make a radiance.
We need one another in order to tell the story of community that documents our lives, and points us toward the future.
We need one another to make our stories into adventures of compassion and love.
The Divine is the love I feel for you and that which I know you feel for me.
Our living story is how we shape this transforming power into sacred experiences, chapters — daily, weekly chapters of celebration, gratitude, and commitment.
On this day when we recognize, with the presentation of Flaming Chalice awards, the generosity of three among us for their abundant gifts of time and talent, we write another page in this communal love story.
On this day when the members of this church thank those who have served, and elect new members to the Board of Trustees, we write a page of gratitude, and we shape our communal character.
On this day we remind one another that being in religious community is a spiritual practice, an intentional choice to engage with others in creating compassion to transform ourselves and the world.
It takes practice to build a religious community guided by love and
sustained by right relations. Sometimes we fail, so it takes practice
to show respect by honoring differences and assuming good intentions.
It takes practice to speak with care and listen appreciatively.
When we practice with sincerity of purpose we learn to communicate
directly, honestly, and lovingly with each other, especially when we
are in conflict.
We learn that when we hurt one other, we can trust in our ability to
forgive each other, and ourselves, in order to begin again in love.
Though the lesson is sometimes difficult, we learn to stay engaged and
to participate in our own growth and transformation.
Last Sunday afternoon, Barbara and I, my mother, my sisters, and our families, gathered on the highest hill in south Tulsa. It is the home of Hope Unitarian Church, where my parents were founding members almost forty years ago. We were standing on a chilly day in the warm sunshine in the Memorial Garden my Dad helped to make. We were scattering some more of his ashes on the grounds of this church where he was elected first president of the Board of Trustees. I was feeling sadness, but my eyes were overflowing with tears of gratitude.
It was my privilege to be raised in religious freedom. It is my calling to strengthen it, and to pass it on.
Last August, after my father’s first stroke, I wrote him a letter expressing my gratitude for him. It said, in part:
“In the third grade [my teacher,] Mrs. Williams asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Of course I said, “An engineer!” I wanted to be like you. Life and calling led me in another direction, but it was not away from you. I think of it sometimes as toward your deepest convictions. My hope and prayer is to live a ministry empowering individuals and communities to shape their freedom into actions and institutions of love and justice.”
Just like you.
At Dad’s memorial service, after the opening prayer, we all raised our voices in memory, tribute, and re-commitment. We sang:
We would be one in living for each other
to show to all a new community…
We would be one in building for tomorrow
a nobler world than we have known today…
As one, we pledge ourselves to greater service,
with love and justice, strive to make us free.
[“We Would Be One” #318 Singing the Living Tradition]
As this Valentine’s Day approaches, and we turn to contemplating the love we know deep in our hearts, may we remember religious freedom in community,A Love Story worthy of our deepest commitment. May we remember, and may we open our hearts, and our doors, that this great transforming message may reach all who long to hear it. ♦