Rev. Cain will be on leave the week of Oct. 3-10th. The common read book discussion scheduled for Oct. 4th WILL be held.
The Binding of Isaac
On Sunday, we shared music and ideas about the Jewish New Year, which includes Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The ten days between are the Days of Awe, when the faithful turn toward one another and ask for forgiveness.
We also forgive ourselves.
In my Buddhist meditation practice these past months, I have been deeply influenced by my teachers who have also evolved in our twenty years’ separation. Their once-Zen practice has been shaped and molded by many new learnings and it is completely dependent upon self-regard and self-compassion as the basis for all spiritual development.
Sometimes, Caitriona will sing: Treat yourself with tenderness, treat yourself with tenderness… I was so surprised to hear her sing the first time!
I shared the story of the Prodigal Son because it is so often told in connection with forgiveness, but it is another story, perhaps the most troubling one in the Hebrew Scriptures, that is told on Rosh Hashanah: The Binding of Isaac.
Abraham is tested by Yahweh who orders him to sacrifice his only son. He obeys, and at the last moment, God steps in and spares Isaac.
What kind of God is that?
At the very least, it seems like a cruel God, one with a bad sense of humor.
There are dozens of midrashim, or explanations on this text. Here’s mine, because I think this is not only a story about Man and God, but a story about human nature.
Life tries us. Sometimes just getting dressed can be a test of will and spirit.
We are being tested by the Universe right now, and much of the suffering was caused not by God’s cruelty or even Nature’s indifference, but by our own willful, greedy, and thoughtless ways.
I also agree with the midrash that reflects upon the notion that it sometimes takes near tragedy to understand the importance of what we have, including the value of our loved one:
It took an unfathomable divine decree, for Abraham to be truly present with his son. All of us face the test of Abraham. Will it take a moment of crisis before we walk together with those we love?
No one would rejoice at the deaths and suffering this time has wrought.
Nonetheless, we have a collective opportunity to go deeper into our own truth, to reunite with what truly matters, and to become more whole. Let us not squander it!
Love,
Cynthia
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
Poet Rio Cortez
How can we meet this moment with courage?
Simple, and yet seemingly so frightening.
We are called to stay engaged. Called by what, you say? By whom? By our shared faith, by our covenant with one another, by our individual and collective consciousness.
I don’t hear anybody calling! You say. Then maybe you not are listening.
Don’t only listen to the voices that are saying what you already know. Listen to the ones that challenge you, that defy your sense of reason, of order, of progress, of the way the world “ought” to be. Maybe those were just stories we told one another and ourselves for so long we believed them. And denial can be a very helpful tool! I learned a long time ago that if we all realized everything at once, we’d have a total psychic split. Reality is too much to comprehend. We take it in small doses. As we do, we become more connected with one another, with the Universe and its mysteries, until finally we disappear and leave this physical world for others to save or destroy.
This week, I will be talking about how we re-learn and re-know the world anew as we pass through it.
One of the things we are all coming to terms with in new ways is racism and the ways it permeates all of our lives.
Here’s a poem I read recently:
DRIVING AT NIGHT
Rio Cortez
For Laquan McDonald
I think it’s quails lining the road but it's fallen Birchwood.
What look like white clouds in a grassy basin, sprinklers.
I mistake the woman walking her retrieve as a pair of fawns.
Could-be animals. Unexplained weather. Maybe they see us
that way. Knowing better, the closer they get. Not quite ready
to let it go.
Laquan McDonald was one of many young Black men shot and killed by police. 2014. The poem explores the territory of how we think we know something by what we perceive, and yet, how often we perceive wrong. Here’s a link to an NPR series that goes in detail about his life, his killing, and the trial. Click here.
Laquan was what was called a “throwaway” kid. He was bounced around in the system. His life did not matter. My Seth would have been such a kid, too, if Eric and I hadn’t fought to have permanent custody of him. Would he have been shot down like Laquan? Maybe not, because he’s white… but then again, maybe so, because he’s autistic, and autistic kids are five times as likely to be assaulted by police as neurotypical ones.
In our book discussion of How to Be an Antiracist, which began Sunday, we started with the question, “what made you think or understand something in a new or different way than you had before?” I believe that GNUUC has the courage and the fortitude to have these talks productively. You have proved me right!
Truly, every day is an opportunity to learn something new.
It takes courage to admit we don’t know everything, that what we think we’ve known may be wrong, that indeed we may have been terribly wrong and may even have wronged others.
The root word for courage is the same as the word for heart. In French le cœur. In Spanish, corazon.
Take heart. You have more heart and more courage than you think.
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.
As long as the GNUUC Building is closed, and Rev. Cain continues to work from home, these are the hours she will be in her virtual office and available to meet.
WEEKS 1-3 of each month:
Monday 8-4
Tuesday 8-4
Wednesday 8-4
Thursday will be her sermon prep day, Friday day off, Wed. eve & Sat. meetings. The fourth week will be off except for urgent matters, emergencies, and scheduled meetings. Please call, text or email to set a time.
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
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.