Has it started to feel like this way of life, staying and working at home, wearing masks and taking precautions to go out, not seeing our family, friends, and fellow church members in person, has just become normal? Does it feel, some days, as if we will never return to what was before, that we will be stuck in this nether world for the rest of our days?

I know it does for me.

And, to be completely honest, it can lead to moments of discouragement, even despair. It can lead to days and even weeks of loneliness and bouts of anxiety. If you feel these things, you are not alone. In fact, I would say it’s perfectly normal to feel that way. Isolation is not beneficial for the human spirit. I hope you will reach out, to a trusted friend, a counselor, your minister (me), if these feelings become overwhelming. To make contact with me easier, I’ve established office hours which are posted here. They will also be on the website. Please send me an email  (cyncain@gmail.com)or text (859 221 3034) to set a time to talk. Know that while these hours are times I will always be available, I can be contacted any time in case of an emergency or urgent church business.

I, too, have felt anxious and uncertain. Looking deeply at my unease, I can see that it comes from being alone, from old habits of questioning myself, from shame I thought I’d conquered, and from fear about the future. It has been an enormous help to me to have re-connected with my first Buddhist teachers in California, and to sit with them three times a week, followed by discussion. Had there been no pandemic, I suspect I would never have been together with them again. Is there a practice that has calmed or soothed you in the past? Or can you explore new ones? Of course, if your sadness is crippling and you find it hard to function, please seek the help of a professional. It is never a weakness to acknowledge a depression or a similar challenge. Indeed, it is an act of courage for you and those who care about you!

Even as we gather each week, even as we have time to listen to one another, and to share our joys and our sorrows, I’m imagining ways we could grow into deeper connection, more trusting and accepting relationship. I see this happening in our covenant groups that meet regularly. I hope that our common read will engender even more of this. If you haven’t gotten the Ibram X. Kendi book, I have a recommendation for listening on either Audible (requires a membership) or Google Play books. Your library may also have free audiobooks you can “borrow” from home. I also have one more copy of the book to loan if you need one. Let me know.

Here’s a link to the discussion questions we will be using. Click here.

My intention for these discussions is that all voices and all opinions will be welcome. I think it’s fair to say that we do not have racists in our UU congregation, but that we do have a variety of ideas about the most efficacious ways to confront and eliminate racism in ourselves, our institutions, and our society. The first meeting will be Sunday, September 6, 2020, at 1:00 PM. A zoom link will be sent to all who signed up. (If you can’t make this time, please let me know as we may set up two times if we have enough people). See you then!

With Love,

Cynthia

“People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.” James Baldwin

 It doesn’t matter whether you grew up in Nashville or even whether you grew up in the United States. Every place, every people has a history.

Right now, we in the United States feel we are in one of the greatest crossroads in our history. For me, it’s particularly effective that people who have been adversely affected by the policies and actions of the past four years are telling their stories.

It is through story, and through the particulars of story, that we come to know one another, and are moved to action. But also, those to whom we truly listened are affected too: they are healed; they become more whole.

What does it mean to say people are trapped in history?

One of my resources for this Sunday is a book called The Nashville Way. It’s a chronicle of the civil rights years in Nashville, through stories, stories told to an author, who is white and who was not from Nashville. The “Nashville way” he speaks of applies to both white and non-white Nashvillians. It’s a certain way of acting with civility, deference, following a script, that isn’t written anywhere but is understood.

The history is also trapped in them because until it has been told, it will cast a pall of dishonesty over all our interactions. Or, as the educator J.E. Windrow put it, in 1945, those who “buried their heads in a magnolia scented past” will never make progress. I believe this pattern still exists, and I also believe it can be found in some form in most urban US places, as well as in many other parts of the world.

I read several books about Nashville, but I can’t possibly tell the whole story of what occurred here, even if I gave a dozen sermons, which I doubt you’d appreciate! You may have or decide to buy some of these books. I especially recommend The Nashville Way and The Children.

You can also go online to read about the movement and some of the personalities.

Tennessee article with wonderful photos

MLK Symposium Papers

Civil Rights Walking/Driving Tour Map

So, I will be talking about a few things:

·        How these situations of disempowerment by race, class, caste are universal

·        How liberals have sometimes enabled them whilst trying to “help”

·        How to think about and discern whether/what you might do in response.

·        Why feeling guilty is a complete waste of energy.

There will be a Time for All Sages about the situation of the aboriginal people in Australia. Often, it’s easier to see the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the plank in our own. To go along with that, I’ve chosen some Aboriginal and Australian musicians. Hope to “see” you on Sunday.

Meanwhile: think happy thoughts and stay safe.

Cynthia

My father’s parents, Edith and Roland Cain, who died years before I was born and about whom I knew two things: he worked for “the railroad” and they were both from the “Eastern Shore.” My dad’s only brother, Named after his father, Painted the picture of his mother, and I believe they gave her the coat. Neither of them married until their forties, after their parents both died.

Billy, Shahzadeh, & Carmen

On my all-too-brief attempt to flee the isolation of the pandemic and get out on the open road, which lasted exactly four of the ten days I had planned, I nonetheless visited my paternal grandparents (ok, dead for seventy years but still) and a few of the places my ancestors lived as well as met some intriguing characters. There was Carmen, who worked at the cemetery, and valiantly spent an hour and a half trying to FIND the headstones of my relatives, running up and down lines of engraved granite markers, peering at his printout of the section, like a keystone cop, until he realized he’d mistaken a 4 for an 8, and drove back to the office, leaving me wandering amidst the dear departed in the hot sun, being assaulted by chiggers whose souvenir bites I’d take home with me. I saw his car pull over a few hundred feet away, and he hollered, OVER HERE! … and sure enough, there were my grandparents’ names, and, presumably, their remains. Later, I walked some trails at Assateague National Park and I met a little boy whose mother and aunts kept telling him in Spanish to hurry up, come on, we have to go. He tarried, disappointed they hadn’t seen the famous ponies. He wanted to converse with me in English though and told me his name was Lucero and I asked him what his family called him. He said, well some of them call me Shahzadeh. Wait, I thought, That’s not Spanish!  Somehow, I discovered his father was from Iran, and Shahzedah meant “Prince.” He kept asking me if I lived there or worked there (because of my encyclopedic knowledge about the ponies) and we chatted all the way back to the parking lot. On my way out of the reserve, I saw several ponies right near the road, and I hoped my new friend and his adults hadn’t left too soon to see them.

I stayed 2 nights at an Airbnb at the southernmost tip of the Eastern shore peninsula. The erstwhile town is called Cape Charles. The very eccentric man whose beach cottage I stayed in fit the description (he was an “artist”) but I was somewhat alarmed when I parked my car in the late evening and saw on the back window of his truck an “Infowars” sticker. Nonetheless, I stayed, and “Billy,” who was almost too solicitous, showed me around, then went off to a back part of the house. I took off at 6AM and got back at about 9PM. I did have a lot of plans, but I was also aware that I did NOT want to have a conversation with my host. I was avoiding him! He wasn’t there when I got back (I imagined he was at a meeting of the society for conspiracy theories) but came in shortly. I was hot and frazzled. He asked me if I needed anything, then gave me the most delicious piece of cold seedless watermelon I think I’ve ever had. I did not see him again.

The living room of my Airbnb in Cape Charles. The host, Billy, was an artist and everything was painted! There was also a lot of art made from found objects.

As I reflected upon my trip, and the many people I’d met, I saw how easily I had categorized people: Male, Latina, kid, Italian, Right-wing, creepy, smart, dumb, on & on. I realized how we do this every day. What if we were more intentional about those interactions, and what if we approached conversations with the goal of making the world a better place?

So: what are impossible conversations?

Join us by Zoom on Sunday (or watch later on YouTube) and see what you think.

It’s very unusual to see the Assateague (or the Chincoteague) ponies this close to the road. In July, they are rounded up, and the young ones swim across to the mainland where they’re auctioned off. This is the means by which these wild horses, origins unknown, are kept to a manageable size herd.

I’m back! That is to say, I’m turning my attention to GNUUC after several weeks of attending to family and personal matters, because I am still here, in Kentucky. But even though I’m a few hours away, my heart is with you, each of you, and Nashville feels like a “home” I shall return to.

I’m excited that the Board has asked me to stay on for another year. At the same time, I feel anxious and uncertain. In other words, I feel just like everyone else, not knowing what to expect nor how to meet each day.

Ministry of 25 years (as of June 4th, which I would have celebrated at our General Assembly had there been a General Assembly) did not prepare me for a pandemic, for long-distance pastoral care, for Zoom worship and online meetings, and for working in my bedroom/office.

A photo taken by my father in the 1920s. I found my way to these docks and had a seafood dinner. How curious, to be in the very place your forbears lived and worked and loved and died. “The Docks at Watchapreague” (a very small fishing town on the Eastern shore of VA)

I want you to tell me what you’d like to see me do more of. I’ve been spending a great deal of my time reading, studying, and preparing. I’ve also been maintaining a spiritual practice with some new elements that I hope to share with you. I’ve made numerous contacts and attended several meetings a week with interfaith groups in Nashville.

I think of all of you more than you probably realize. Please let me know if you’d like to chat and we will set up a call. Going forward, I will have open office hours when you can call and talk with me about anything from church matters to questions of faith and meaning. I may not have the answers, but I can listen, and I know how to help you find the answers that you probably already have.

This past week, feeling stir-crazy after more than four months at home, I decided to drive to the home place of my paternal ancestors. My dad died 25 years ago (yes, two months before I was ordained) and he left no clues about his family, other than a few vague remarks about how he spent his summers and a handful of photographs. I knew much more about my mother’s people, even though I barely recall her. But on my leave time, I got back into digging around through the Cain family as well as the McAllister, Purnell, Gillis, Outten, and Hammonds, all of whom lived in a very circumscribed place on a peninsula called the Eastern shore. These people were some of the original settlers, arriving in the 1600s, and fought in both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars (Union.) Dad spent all his summers there. I realized that it was a second “home” to him because it had determined so much of his loves, from carving decoys to making clam chowder and sweet potato pie.

I decided to make a visit, since the virus wasn’t bad there, and I’d mostly be walking in cemeteries, and spend some time following up on leads. It was fascinating, exciting, and foolish! After four days, I had a scratchy throat. I immediately concluded that I had coronavirus. It went away (probably allergies) but a hurricane warning followed, and I left early, driving home in one afternoon. I will go back, someday. For now, I’m home, this KY home, happy to be planning for our shared ministries, and scheduled for a CV test tomorrow!

I love you all very much, and I am so grateful to be working with you a while longer. Let’s get into some good trouble.

Cynthia

Everyone!

I’m very excited.

First: thank you for trusting and supporting me during these days of uncertainty and separation. I have felt the encouragement and enthusiasm of the GNUUC Board and all of our ministries as we plod, sometimes stumble, sometimes lurch through these days. We will all look back and realize that maybe we should have done this or that… but it is my hope that we shall also see in retrospect that we grew in wisdom and understanding.

This time of social distancing has created ministry opportunities for me that I hope will benefit our whole congregation (and beyond.) Because I am not commuting, and because so many community-based meetings and workshops have moved online, I’ve had the opportunity to meet and become familiar with many interfaith leaders and organizers from West Nashville and beyond. Here is a partial list of them:

• Weekly “Rabbi & Reverend” meetings with about 12-15 interfaith leaders

• Participation in the West Nashville clergy group

• Membership in Spiritual Alliance For Interfaith Reconciliation

• Workshops with Gamaliel (NOAH)

• Preaching seminars

• Our gift of almost $10,000 (funded by a UUA grant) to communities most devastated by the tornado has opened doors and created connections.

An example of what has occurred is that West Nashville clergy are making plans to host a billboard for 4 weeks in support of removing the Nathan Bedford Forrest bust from the Statehouse, and to follow up with our presence and continued support. Here’s a link to an article about the latest effort to have the bust removed. Still, as one person of color told us bluntly, that’s great but it has to be just a beginning. I know that many of you have devoted time, effort, and money to support marginalized people. The leading edge is figuring out what we can do as a community and in conjunction with other faith communities that we couldn’t do individually.

Because I had relationships with the Imam and a leader in the Muslim community, I was able to reach out personally after the anti-Islamic ad appeared in the paper. Their gratitude and good wishes for our community were abundant. Building relationships.

In addition, I’ve been doing some fairly intensive work and study in my Buddhist practice and with guided meditations, Neuro Linguistic Programming, and even hypnotism, which I hope will provide me with resources for our times ahead, or at least make me a calmer, healthier minister when we all join together.

I have a better phone!

When I return from leave at the beginning of August, I will set up a link with “office hours” during which you can schedule a phone meeting, to plan church events, to kvetch about anything church or non-church, or just to process how you are doing. Meanwhile, I’m still on duty for the next week so please text or leave a message if you’d like to set up a call. My cell # is 859 221 3034.

Don’t forget to check in on one another by phone, e-mail or snail mail, and to thank your leaders, volunteers, and pastoral caregivers for carrying the burden of planning and shifting gears day by day.

My love to all,

Cynthia

I knew nothing about this statue! Keep me informed!

"From Out the Cave" by Joyce Sutphen, from Straight Out of View. © Beacon Press, 1995.

When you have been at war with yourself for so many years that you have forgotten why,

when you have been driving for hours and only gradually begin to realize that you have lost the way,

 when you have cut hastily into the fabric,

when you have signed papers in distraction,

when it has been centuries since you watched the sun set or the rain fall,

and the clouds, drifting overhead, pass as flat as anything on a postcard;

when, in the midst of these everyday nightmares,

you understand that you could wake up,

you could turn and go back to the last thing you remember doing with your whole heart:

that passionate kiss,

the brilliant drop of love rolling along the tongue of a green leaf,

then you wake,

you stumble from your cave,

blinking in the sun,

naming every shadow as it slips.

What good or surprising things have happened for you since this pandemic began? I would love to know! Send me an email, a text, or call (just leave a message) …

If you can’t think of anything, may I recommend learning to love and cherish yourself?

The root of compassion is self-regard (in case self-love seems like a bridge too far… I get that.)

On Sunday, I will share more about this, and a few ways it is done. Hope you’ll join me and your fellow GNUUCers.

MEANWHILE: Starting when I return from leave, in August, we will join a community book reading that all can take part in. The book is How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi. Please buy it from an independent bookstore if you can! Then start reading. We will tap into this and some other materials throughout the Fall, and next Spring, you will be invited to a lunch meeting with the author!

This quarantine will yield so many things of value that we can’t begin to comprehend. A great shifting of energies and will is going on before our very eyes. Be a part of it.

Much love,   Cynthia

Five teens from Nashville who organized a peaceful March in four days.

I have a periodontal appointment today, which I remembered, but then I realized that I wasn’t sure which office it was, and couldn't recall the name of the MD, nor had they sent me a reminder! When I remembered the name of the practice, I called and was reminded that it’s a sedation appointment so Eric had to change his plans to drive me. I’ve had several of these moments since the pandemic began, and I’m not ready to chalk them up to aging or dementia. I’ve talked with my adult offspring, and they acknowledge having this same kind of event. My son Colin is in New Mexico, one of the least affected states, and still, he feels confused, unable to concentrate, and indecisive about his Ph.D. studies. I’ve managed to convince him not to make any major decisions until the pandemic has been mitigated, but talking with him helped me see why I’ve had similar feelings. Each week, I think I’ll drive to TN to pick up some things and see a few people (safely), but then I change my mind for any number of reasons.

This is all to say that you aren’t necessarily losing your mind and that the lowered cognitive abilities you are experiencing are most likely temporary.

In the midst of this comes the news (that isn’t really new) that the streets are filling with protesters who have reached a breaking point after one more murder of an unarmed Black man. George Floyd has brought people together who may have otherwise been too preoccupied with work, studies, and other obligations to respond with such a fulsome and universal outpouring. It’s both distressing and heartening. As I ministered through the nineties and early 2000s, it was almost impossible to get students to engage in numbers over any number of tragedies and inequities. The changes we see are exciting. My daughter, out of work, has devoted herself to the movement in Lexington full time. Our former exchange student in Germany has been involved. No doubt you know and know of people who have risked their safety by hitting the streets. It is both terrifying (because of the physical danger and potential exposure) and beautiful. Read this article about Nashville teens who started a peaceful march that drew 10,000. It will be years before we can fully comprehend the gifts that this tragic interlude has made possible.

I had a mentor who taught me this: Can you wait until the stream clears and you can see what lies beneath? In other words, have even more patience than you ever thought you could. We are going to come out on the other side.

In the meantime, those of us who aren’t ready to march in person can support organizations and individuals who are. I trust your wisdom to find those entities and give what you can. Our congregation will be realigning our goals for the year. You have exceptional leaders who embody wisdom, compassion, intellect, and knowledge. Embrace them!

Together we can study and learn. I’m going to have us start a community read of Ibram X Kendi’s book, How to be an Antiracist. Start by getting the book, and commit to the discussions we can have with one another. There will be a communal read with other congregations, and a chance to meet the author next Spring. I will provide dates and other details soon. “See” you in church later this month and , meanwhile, stay in touch! I am here if you need me.

I am purchasing several copies of the Community Read book, How to be an Antiracist. If you'd like to use one of these, just let me know! Cynthia

Love, Cynthia

Hello and a virtual hug!

I’m sharing several pieces of news today.

First, I have been working to become familiar with interfaith and faith-based groups in Nashville. Some of these are NOAH, Pray for Nashville, Interdenominational Ministers, “Rabbi & Reverend” Weekly Discussions, Gamaliel Faith Leaders, Gideon’s Army, West Nashville Clergy and the Atlantic Institute.

That brings me to the current crisis around policing and racial profiling. (Of course, this is not new but it’s being addressed and exposed in ways not seen before.) Because of the pandemic and quarantine, most of us can not go to the many protests, vigils, and meetings, as much as we’d love to. I hope you are finding ways to donate money, supplies, and time (for example making calls) to the NAACP, M4BL, Black Lives Matter, and in our own city, NOAH and others leading the movement. Or, perhaps you can read something to yourselves or to the children in your life. You can study so that you are informed. I am re-reading James Cone’s Black Theology and Black Power.

Children’s BOOK click here.

Our congregation along with FUUN contributed over $10,000 to Black-led organizations through a grant and your donations. These funds for tornado relief, but they have opened up points of entry with the Black organizers. Again, this is not to take away from the many here who have advocated, contributed, and worked in the city of Nashville and beyond.

We’ve ordered a Black Lives Matter flag and will display the flag when it arrives. I’m aware that in the past, concerns were expressed about the choice of flags. It seems to me that now is the time to put those to rest. Here are some questions you may have:

Will it change anything? Maybe not, but neither will our silence. My experience, having been an Interim at one of the first congregations to post a Black Lives Matter billboard/sign in 2015 in very conservative South Jersey, is that while five years on, many things have not changed, the process changed all of us. It opened doors and hearts, including the hearts of the congregation.

Will it endanger our facility or our members? In the NJ congregation, the sign was defaced and replaced numerous times. Racism is not confined to the South! When we got threatening messages, we traced them and found they came from other parts of the country. Nonetheless, members of the Atlantic City Muslim community (this is a Black organization in AC) attended many services and stood in the back by the doors. Even with all the vitriol, and five years later, no attacks other than the defacing of the sign have occurred. The fact that a BLM sign might put us in danger leads to two observations: We see that even the words, “Black Lives Matter” are enough to anger people. Two, we recognize that people of color wake every day to danger and threat just living their daily lives.

But what about the bad things BLM has supposedly done? Black Lives Matter is not an authoritarian or even a centralized organization. The fact that a person or person who is using those words did something you see as bad or wrong is no aspersion on the movement.

Do we want to be anti-police? Isn’t that what Black Lives Matter stands for? That is an over-simplification and a tactic used to discredit this widely accepted mantra and group. As I told you months ago, the opposite of Black Lives Matter is not All Lives Matter; it is Black Lives Don’t Matter. Even large corporations like Amazon and Facebook are now saying BlackLivesMatter. Here’s a message from Calm, a mainstream app for meditation and stories.

Read more about the BLM Movement here.

 Black Lives Matter is a central target of disinformation and you are a key line of defense. Report suspicious sites, stories, ads, social accounts, and posts about BLM.

Please read all you can about these questions and, if you still have concerns, let me or a member of leadership know, and we will listen.

As much as I miss seeing you in person, I accept that for now, we must keep our distance. It’s difficult and wearying, isn’t it? Know you are all in my thoughts each day, as I walk, meditate, read and study. I love you! I know you are brave and determined. I am working on ways we can be better connected. We can do this.

Cynthia

Hello to all:

I’m sharing with you my contribution to the Ministry Days celebration for 25/50 years of service. On June 4, 2020, I will celebrate twenty-five years of UU ministry. I can’t think of a better place to be now than with GNUUC (even if it’s on screens for now!)

As I return to my usual duties, I shall be working closely with our leadership to plan how best to serve you in the coming weeks/months. To be honest, we can’t know what lies ahead! But we can make plans and change them if need be.

I shall be setting up virtual office hours so that you can make appointments to me via Zoom. I’ll also be continuing to host a Faith & Fiction reading group every Friday. We’re read Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Just let me know if you’d like to join! You can get it on Kindle today or buy a used copy for a few dollars.

As Garrison Keillor has always said: Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.

The Waking

BY THEODORE ROETHKE

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there, 
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how? 
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair; 
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do  
To you and me; so take the lively air, 
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.   
What falls away is always. And is near.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

Twenty-five years ago, I was welcomed into this ministry with a Charge from one of the greats, Gordon McKeeman. He was already retired but had briefly filled in at the small Shenandoah Valley congregation I was ordained by. His words to them (and me) were: Stop comparing her to me. I was a speaker; she is your minister now. I was (and still am) very introverted. I was full of doubt that I could do the most basic tasks of ministry: pastoral care; preaching week after week; tending to the dying and their loved ones.

But that self-doubt provided one thing that was essential: humility. I entered this profession with a beginner’s mind. I listened to my elders, to those with experience, and to community leaders. I learned that my passion for racial justice was a fire that would carry me into the public sphere, and like the words of Roethke, I learned by going: to Ecuador, to Geneva, to Transylvania, to Biloxi, to Alabama. And by going to a congregant’s home, helping clean up the blood and bone of her adult son, who’d ended his life, by going to the home of our custodian, who died of carbon monoxide in his own garage. And by going to marches, rallies, vigils and press conferences going deep into friendship with Black families, congregations, and communities. My call was originally an inkling, a hunch. It became manifest to me through listening, learning, and through my own courage and conviction.

I still have doubts and questions, even on the verge of retirement: was it worth all that I and my loved ones lost? Did I do anything at all worthy of the title “Reverend”? And, as is human, I sift back through the detritus of those decades, with remorse for my sins of commission, but mostly of omission. Would I do it again? In the good moments, I feel certain that I took the right path. Other times, not so much.

But these questions rarely nag me today. I hope I still have humility. But I know I have a perspective born of a multitude of learnings that both kept me sane and helped me evolve in this maddening, frustrating, and disillusioning yet grace-filled work: Family systems; 12-step work; spiritual director training; disciplines of yoga and meditation, a sense of humor. Still, if I had to choose one thing that has sustained me, it would be the people: so many loving, brave, generous, noble, and committed people of all ages who have encouraged, companioned, challenged, and tolerated me through all of my fumbling and learning. So many of them live on in just memory now. But it is in their honor that I celebrate my service. I couldn’t have done it without them.

Our South Jersey Shore congregation in 2015. After Charleston SC, we sent flowers to an AME congregation is sympathy. Many of them joined us as we put our sign by the busy road. We were one of the earliest UU Churches to do so. It led to many, many good things!