Even in the mud and scum of things, something always, always sings.
~attributed (erroneously?) to Ralph Waldo Emerson

Beloveds,

The world is messy: right now, of course, but truly, as always. Sometimes it helps to look for beauty, for whatever sings, whether within or around us. Sometimes it has to be enough just to affirm that somewhere there is surely singing, until one comes around again to the direct experience of beauty and joy. I hope you have, or can create, something fine and beautiful near you this week. 

We will have extra opportunities for song and celebration this weekend! Friday evening, some of our UU siblings from the far reaches of Tennessee will be coming into town & sharing dinner from our GNUUC kitchen, and Saturday–Oh! There will be the TUUCAN Fall Flock all day long, and a morning full of No Kings demonstrating downtown. (I hope someone at No Kings will be singing protest songs–if you’re there, go find them & help!) Sunday will find UUs from all over the state worshipping together at First UU Church on Woodmont Blvd (please join us there at 10 am), and I am sure there will be singing. You can find more about these goings-on in the announcements below.

Yours in listening for the song,

Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org 

P.S. TUUCAN = Tennessee Unitarian Universalist Community Action Network = all the congregations in our fine (but very wide) state joining together to side with love and coax a more beautiful, more just world into being.

P.P.S. (just to be sure you see it) NO Sunday Service at GNUUC this weekend! Join UUs from all over the state at First UU (1808 Woodmont Blvd) at 10 am. 

The only thing that isn’t worthless: 
to live this life truthfully, fully, and rightly 
and to be patient with those who don’t.
~Marcus Aurelius

Beloveds,

What has always drawn me to that particular nugget from Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor and wise guy) isn’t so much the encouragement to truthful, full, and right living as it is the invitation to patience. Encouragement to patience with those around me seems like always-good advice, but at this particular moment, with an overabundance of “those who don’t” being reported everywhere I turn my browser, patience seems like a tiny little trickle when I really want to call down the roaring waters of justice. (Note: the waters of justice in the Hebrew Bible are not peaceful, happy waters, but destructive floodwaters in the desert.) It is so tempting to imagine meeting substantial parts of the world around me with righteous anger, or at least self-satisfied dismissal or disdain. Patience is too tall an order when I see policies and decisions that are causing death.

And yet, setting aside whether I’m even in the position of living truthfully, fully, and rightly enough to recognize clearly those who do not, it occurs to me that I might also read in those words a suggestion that I meet my own failings to live my best life with patience. I don’t know about you (perhaps you are living fully, truthfully, and rightly), but I am curious about how meeting myself with patience might differ from my customary culturally-programmed lean into diagnosis, judgment, and correction. It feels softer, for sure, more compassionate, and perhaps more likely to lead to the kind of growth we all long to find in ourselves and each other. 

I’m going to try being more patient with myself. Who knows? While it probably won’t change the world around me much, it might make a difference right here where I can feel it.

Yours in compassion and patience,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org 

Beloveds,

It’s a busy week at church: meetings (Finance & Board), a Saturday retreat (Worship Team), outings for me to Vanderbilt Divinity School (I’m the UU liaison & there are two UU students there this year!) and to the Board of Zoning Appeals. I am also working on Sunday’s sermon, whose title includes the word “God” which I am keenly aware we very rarely use in our sanctuary!

If you’re worried or puzzled about that word, let me reassure you that I have no investment in your particular belief in/rejection of/understanding of deity or spiritual beings. I myself don’t really think of God or Spirit or _____(insert any of many names) as a being, but I am endlessly curious about how we human beings grapple with understanding …how shall I call it?....the nature of reality beyond ourselves, the data of our senses, and the interpretations of our brains. I am inclined to believe that it’s important to try to feel connected to whatever reality there is.

Here’s a warm-up poem for our time together Sunday; it’s a favorite of mine and expresses something we all need to feel, at least from time to time.

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
~ Denise Levertov, “The Avowal”

Yours in faith and love,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

Beloveds,

It’s a busy week at church: meetings (Finance & Board), a Saturday retreat (Worship Team), outings for me to Vanderbilt Divinity School (I’m the UU liaison & there are two UU students there this year!) and to the Board of Zoning Appeals. I am also working on Sunday’s sermon, whose title includes the word “God” which I am keenly aware we very rarely use in our sanctuary!

If you’re worried or puzzled about that word, let me reassure you that I have no investment in your particular belief in/rejection of/understanding of deity or spiritual beings. I myself don’t really think of God or Spirit or _____(insert any of many names) as a being, but I am endlessly curious about how we human beings grapple with understanding …how shall I call it?....the nature of reality beyond ourselves, the data of our senses, and the interpretations of our brains. I am inclined to believe that it’s important to try to feel connected to whatever reality there is.

Here’s a warm-up poem for our time together Sunday; it’s a favorite of mine and expresses something we all need to feel, at least from time to time.

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
~ Denise Levertov, “The Avowal”

Yours in faith and love,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise.” –Alice Walker
“Sanctuary is where we dream in safety.” – Leela Sinha

Dear Ones–

How has your summer been? I am “back” from time away from work, and although I travelled only a small bit (and that unexpectedly), it has been good to have time just for myself and family. Now I’m ready to see what this church year brings us and excited to live into our responses to each other and the world around us. How rich in surprise can we be? What dreams can we grow in the shelter of each other? 

Let’s find out!

Yours, in expectation and hope,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org