I am so grateful for this congregation, for the chance to serve you, and the wider community of Nashville. I will admit that I harbor doubts when I look toward the future. Trying to do ministry from afar is, at best, awkward. I miss seeing your faces in person, and I know you miss this too, But I am so impressed by how you show up for each other week after week, and in countless ways throughout the week. You are all ministers to one another.

I’m truly impressed by the interfaith community in Nashville, and Zoom meetings have given me a chance to be more involved. Among the groups I meet with regularly are NOAH religious leaders, West End clergy, “Rabbi and Reverend,” an interfaith discussion group, the Atlantic Institute, a group that supports Turkish Muslims in exile, and NOAHs criminal justice task force. Sometimes I worry that I won’t be able to sustain these commitments when/if COVID restrictions end, but for me, it’s best to stay centered in each day and do what I am able.

I was invited to give an invocation at NOAH’s large public meeting on Sunday! You can see my prayer in the first few minutes of this video, CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO but I hope you will watch along for a while to get the picture of NOAH’s work and learn how Gamaliel and similar organizations make change. It’s exciting.

See you in a few weeks!

Cynthia

In talking about Listening to our Body, it’s enough for a start to realize we even have one. As I quoted during the meditation, it was James Joyce who wrote, Mr. Duffy lived a little distance from his body.

That’s the common situation for most Euro-centric cultures, religions, and nations. I love this poem, and the reading as well as the interpretation:

CLICK HERE: The New Religion

 It came out on Monday, or I may have read it to you on Sunday!

Once we decide to begin a new relationship with our own bodies, to accept and love them just as they are, we begin a spiritual quest. We begin the arduous journey of self-concern. It won’t make you popular, because some people will call you selfish and indifferent, and imply that you’re not compassionate.

For me, a good way to do this is movement, dance, easy yoga, and walking. I also love poetry, and reading or listening to a good poem a day is a treat for me, something I have to do like a discipline, because it’s for me, and the things just for me are the first to go when I feel stressed.

I regret that I ever felt bad about myself or my own physical being. But I understand it, which is something like forgiveness. And I am certain that I can’t truly help a single soul unless I am working to care for me.

I put a question on facebook:

Do you love yourself? If no, why not? If yes, How much?

Only about 5 people replied, all affirmative. I must admit that I was delighted to see that all of them were members of congregations I’d served. (One was a colleague from Transylvania.) I hope it made at least five other people think. Surely, if you believe God made you, you must love yourself! If you don’t have those beliefs, you can still deeply understand that you, like everyone else, are part of the great mix of beings that walk this earth and therefore of course you are to be loved. Even if you have done wrong, you can do something about that. Remember guilt is legitimate if it tells us we did wrong, but shame tells us we are something wrong. It is never helpful and almost always an impediment to wholeness.

We can talk about politics, crises, the environment, racism, and much more, and we should, but we ought not forget that our society and much of the world is in a great spiritual crisis right now, and I’m not talking about religion. Today the ones who boast of being the most religious are often the most dangerous, the most heinous. I am talking about our relationship with truth and with humanity.

This extended break from the typical routine is a wonderful time to begin or to revive a spiritual practice. I look forward to the journey along with you.

Cynthia

Chincoteague pony grazing last week.

I loved seeing your pets and hearing the names of the pets you’ve lost.

It got me thinking how much we love the mystery and majesty of wild animals, like the ponies at Chincoteague Island, near my ancestors' homeplace, about whose origin is still unknown, but which have drawn and fascinated people for centuries.

It reminded me that we can hold two seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time, like wilderness and responsibility, and that indeed that is what UU ism is largely about.

I think this time of isolation and separation has been difficult for so many of us and yet at the same time it has allowed us to see what is really important, what really matters. I believe that we have taken a deeper look at our relationships not only to people but to animals, nature, and the world around us. One hopes that in addition to seeing clearly the beauty, the magnificence, and the importance of this world that many will also see the reality of the danger, the harm, and the threat to life and become committed to working to preserve it.

Or, at least, stop actions that destroy it.

We’ve seen how easily years of work and lifetimes of struggle for civil rights, environmental and social justice, and decades of decency and democracy can be destroyed in unilateral and dictatorial acts. Many of us are fearful and alarmed.

It’s important to do what we can: vote (Did you reply to the NOAH survey yet!? Let us stand up and announce a 100% voting rate!); urge others to vote; volunteer in various capacities; donate to important races; and perhaps most importantly, help others who are falling between the cracks created by this administration: the unemployed, the underinsured, the underserved, the undocumented workers, the disenfranchised; you know the list. It goes on.

But even as we must never close our ears or harden our hearts to the bitter realities of now, so we must also keep room for the reasons preserving this world matters: there is love, there is courage, there is beauty. 

Joining your UU community on Sundays matters. It really matters now. It’s not just for you. It’s for everyone who needs you to be there so they can feel held and heard.

Here’s one more animal poem, and some pictures of our family pets. Please join me and the Worship team (have you thanked them lately?) on Sunday when I will begin a three-part series on healing: personal, communal, and global. This week is still taking shape but it will focus on healing from trauma and listening to ourselves and others.

Love, 

Cynthia

Eric with our new granddog Gia

Son Casey with Gia

Willow with our Whiskey

Rev. Cain will be on leave the week of Oct. 3-10th. The common read book discussion scheduled for Oct. 4th WILL be held.

On Sunday, we will honor our Jewish siblings (as well as those among us with Jewish heritage or cultural ties) by acknowledging the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

These are the Days of Awe, when the Book of Life is open, and during which the Jewish community practice teshuvah, turning. Turning away from habits that are unhelpful, turning toward forgiveness, turning toward God.

Teshuva is return. To turn again, to turn away from sin. The concept of “sin” in Hebrew has twenty different words. The most common word is chata'ah, which literally means to “miss the mark,” much less punitive than the damnation and hellfire many of us associate with sin. God is literally waiting with joy for his people to return to Him, to rejoice and to forgive their sins.

You can read more about The Days of Awe by clicking here.

One act of repentance we all can do is to turn our minds and hearts toward justice. Even though most UUs do this all the time, the New Year can be a time to renew our intention (kavanah.)

I love the notion of healing the world, tikkun olam. No one person, nation, or faith can do this alone. That is absurd. It will take all of us, together, working beyond boundaries, asking for and giving forgiveness, to do the most important task before us:

Here is an important way you can help! Please sign the Interfaith Statement in this eBlast, composed by a member of the Temple, but signed by over 450 Nashvillians, including 100 clergy. Our goal is to have 1,000 signatures this week. It is just a beginning, but during these days of turning, may it signal a new start. The letter will be distributed to major news and media outlets. Let me know if you have any questions.

Love & Hope,

Cynthia

The Byrds of Paradise (1994)

Even though we work as “a team” and consult with one another frequently (or maybe because,) Nathanael and I have never taken the time to sit down and get acquainted. I’m sure he’s heard or read bits of my “story,” (maybe more than once) as I use illustrations from my own experience, but I didn’t know a lot of his. For example: He was born in Norway! His parents were Baha’i missionaries. He left there for St. Louis at age three. (He was born the year I graduated from High School, 1973.) His parents and he and his siblings moved on to Hawaii, where he experienced racial animus against white people, who were minorities there. '

I told him about a TV series my nephew was in as a child star based upon that premise called The Byrds of Paradise. 

He also lived on Oahu and in Micronesia as his parents’ marriage ended, he stayed with his father, who went on to law school, he attended high school in several venues including by correspondence for one year, and finished in the white bastion of Amherst, Mass!

To me, this and his Baha’i faith go a long way to explain Nathanael’s exuberant, extroverted, and versatile ways. I think people who move a great deal and must adjust either learn the skills to do so or become extraordinarily withdrawn. By contrast, I went nowhere and was very provincial for about 30 years, as well as being super introverted, so I had to teach myself to have confidence in new circumstances.

I love this part of his story:

I got my first Lego kit, a Saturn rocket. I insisted on building something with the kit without following the assembly instructions. I required myself to use every piece. The irony was that there were these few pairs of pieces that, had I read the book, I would have understood were meant to be mated together to make HINGES. In the moment, I used them unmated for other improvisational purposes. But I often wonder what even more amazing thing I could have built if I had only taken a moment to read and understand hinges. Perhaps that informs my enduring enthusiasm to read the documentation.

Okay, there’s a lot more! But leaving out the mushy parts and the other stuff for another day, I pass the baton. Who would you like to know better? Give them a shout or email and ask them if you can interview them, by phone or just by email, as Nat and I did. If you’d rather, we can pair you with someone. 

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.