September 16, 2007 Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley
The human heart is restless,
full of longings,
itches that need to be scratched.
What do you yearn for?
So much we strive for satisfies—
just not for long —
success, money, food, entertainment, love, sex, accumulated stuff.
Soon, whatever, it’s not enough.
We want something more—
Robert Fulghum, cowboy, salesman, painter, folksinger,
bartender, art teacher, Unitarian Universalist minister,
writes of a time
when he wanted to be somewhere else in his religious journey.
He yearned for something more.
Zen and its idea of enlightenment appealed to Fulghum.
He was ready to empty his mind
and say, “I get it!”
He took a leave of absence
and went off to Japan to get Zenned.
He shaved his head,
put on the gray robe,
and was ready to become a holy man,
planning to be enlightened in about six weeks
when his return ticket home expired.
But, sitting still gave him cramps.
The food gave him diarrhea.
Sleeping on a board gave him a backache.
He thought his fellow monks viewed him as a Western fool,
laughing at him behind his back.
To his surprise, he was invited for an interview
with the master of the temple.
He says he felt like a stock boy
being asked to have lunch with the president of the company.
The master was a solver of all Zen puzzles or koans,
writer of books,
speaker of seven foreign languages,
a paradigm of the great teacher:
wise, good, respected, accomplished.
Fulghum was ushered into the master’s private study.
They knelt on cushions, bowed their mutual respect.
The master out of courtesy, Fulghum out of awe.
For a long time the master looked at him and into him.
Very deliberately the master shifted his weight to one knee,
and just as deliberately reached for his backside
and scratched himself in that way
and in that place
you were taught that in public was a no-no.
“I have hemorrhoids. They hurt and itch.”
Fulghum didn’t know how to reply to such an opening remark.
He kept his mouth shut and pretended to be thoughtful.
“The hemorrhoids come from stress, you know.
From worrying about this firetrap of a temple burning down.
From worrying about trying to get enough funding
from donors to keep it in repair.
From arguing with my spouse and children,
who are not as holy” —he smiled-“as I am.
Sometimes I think I would like to get a little place in Hawaii
and just play golf for the rest of my life.”
He scratched again.
“It was this way before I was ‘enlightened,’ you know.
And now it is the same after enlightenment.”
He paused a long while.
Rising, he led Fulghum to the entrance of the temple.
They stood before an ancient scroll.
He said it was time for Fulghum to go home
where the master imagined Fulghum had been
a “thirsty person looking for a drink
and all the while standing knee-deep in a flowing stream.”
The master read the scroll, first in Japanese
and then translated into English:
There is really nothing you must be.
And there is nothing you must do.
There is really nothing you must have.
And there is nothing you must know.
There is really nothing you must become.
However. It helps to understand that fire burns,
And when it rains, the earth gets wet…”
“Whatever happens, there are consequences.
Nobody is exempt,” said the master.
With a wink, he turned and walked away.
Carefully scratching his backside.
(Fulghum, It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, Villard Books, 1989)
Almost two decades ago, I had my first experience
of being on staff of a Unitarian Universalist leadership school,
a kind of religious summer camp for adult UUs.
On the staff was The Rev. Frances West.
When I met Frances she was almost two decades older than I,
about the age I am now.
She was gray-haired, wore glasses
and the simplest matronly plain skirts and shirts.
But Frances was playful and sensual, bawdy and soulful.
She moved as if her body was sacred.
She took delight in people as if every body was sacred.
I wanted to be Frances,
but only Frances could be Frances.
Really I think I wanted to be at home in myself
as she was at home in herself.
She gave the impression she had made peace with herself
and that gave her joy — despite circumstances.
I’m sure she had her frustrations and worries.
No doubt sometimes, she wanted to pitch the whole thing
and run off to the beach and bask in sunshine all day.
I guess sometimes we all do. I know I do.
She took things lightly enough to enjoy herself
and seriously enough to be aware of consequences to her actions.
There was really nothing Frances had to be.
And there was nothing she had to do.
There was really nothing she seemed to need to have.
And nothing she had to know, nothing she had to become.
Frances just was.
In 1975 Frances had been a lay leader
in her Unitarian Universalist congregation in Atlanta.
She read an article about the first American hospice.
She and a buddy had another friend who was dying of cancer.
They longed for their friend to be able to die at home, in beauty,
as pain free and lucid as possible,
and with compassionate companionship like hospice.
So these two UU friends with the support of their congregation
started the first hospice in the state of Georgia.
Amazing what two people and a congregation can do!
Frances died this spring.
I don’t know the circumstances,
but I like to picture her in the presence of loving family and friends,
crying and laughing, gratefully, gracefully letting go.
Frances introduced me to an expression.
The leadership school campers were gathered for evening worship.
We sang Love Will Guide Us, the song we sang today after the story.
Frances knew the tune as an old familiar hymn
that lent itself to harmonizing.
And that’s what happened-beautiful harmonies.
As the song ended, Frances looked around lovingly at us all
and said, “Now that scratches what itches in the soul.”
Right here, right now we’re reaching to scratch an itch.
This is the Jewish High Holy Days.
Wednesday at sundown
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, began.
We wish all a sweet new year.
Wednesday also began the Islamic holy month of Ramadan,
a time of prayer, dawn to dusk fasting and reflection.
We wish all a blessed month.
This weekend also begins a ten-day Hindu festival,
celebrating the birth of Ganesh,
the elephant-headed god celebrated as the remover of obstacles.
This morning’s story was from the Ramayana, a Hindu epic poem.
We are a liberal religious community
lifting up all these religious traditions.
We’re grateful for all the world religions.
Each tradition has wisdom to offer from their stories and practices.
The religious impulse is broad and deep
and won’t be confined to one narrow way.
We are proclaiming what the world needs to hear-
The world’s religions and spiritual traditions
have much to learn from each other.
Good relations among religions lead to the end of war and create peace.
What’s could be more essential?
We’re encouraging our children here to build bridges not battles
as they grow up in this world of rich cultural diversity.
If you are like me,
a religion celebrating wisdom filling the whole earth
satisfies a deep healing, spiritual longing.
But that’s not all.
Here we proclaim the worth of all earth’s people.
Each person is encouraged to speak of the truths they know
from their own living and questioning.
Each of us listens and learns from the others.
It’s a spiritual practice that sparks mutual regard,
friendship, and deep sharing.
Each person has a piece of the truth,
and we need one another to be more whole,
to have more joy, and to make more of a difference.
When we participate together in living out our values,
we maximize our caring.
If you’re like me, celebrating life alone is hard.
Celebrating together scratches what itches in your soul.
As our service ends today, we will reach out
and take the hands of strangers and friends.
Our reaching out has consequences.
It’s good to feel a hand in your hand
as a loving connection,
as empowering strength,
as a reminder.
There’s really nothing you have to be or do,
nothing you need to have or know or become.
You are!
And we are all connected.
The energy, the spirit we generate here
fuels the compassion
we carry with us into the world.
What would life be like if you moved as if your body was sacred,
if you took delight in people as if every body was sacred.
What if you could take things lightly enough to enjoy yourself
and seriously enough to feel the consequences of your actions,
the weighty consequence of your life!
Your presence makes a difference.
Together we make a world
in which love and kindness, generosity and gratitude are at the center
In this place, this liberal religious congregation, come home.
Come home to yourself.
Come home to community.
Come home to the world.
You have a place here. You belong.
Like the Zen Buddhist master, the Hebrew Prophet Isaiah says,
Come you longing thirsty souls and drink.
You are knee-deep in a flowing stream.
Come you famished folk; a feast is spread before you.
Around you, the mountains and the hills sing;
the trees clap their hands.
Despite everything, move with them in peace and in joy.
In the Message Bible, a contemporary translation, Isaiah says,
Hey there! All who are thirsty, come to the water!
Why do you spend your money on junk food,
your hard-earned cash on cotton candy?
Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best.
You’ll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
exuberant with applause.
Go out in joy!
A sweet new year!
A blessed month!
A joyous homecoming to you!