In High School, we read Julius Cesar, and I had one line: “Beware the Ides of March.”

I was the soothsayer. I had to put all my acting skills into those five words.

Had someone told us, one year ago, that we’d be virtually imprisoned in our homes, separated from our loved ones, fearful of an invisible virus, having to take extreme measures to go out in public, and witnessing the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Americans, the sickening of millions, the unemployment and displacement and despair that come with such an epidemic, all while going through a brutal and barbaric political campaign and election cycle, we couldn’t have imagined it, but my guess is that most of us would have imagined it with sheer horror.

I don’t mean to imply that the pandemic has been easy in any way — far from it — there have been many losses and tragedies for us all, but we have survived. I believe our connections and our commitments have grown stronger and more caring, even as most of us have only seen one another on screens.

The last time I spoke at GNUUC was March 15th, 2020. When I left that day, I left all of my sermon notes, my books, my files, and a good deal of my clothes in Nashville. I could have come back for a day or two, but I haven’t. The thought of being there and not seeing you was too depressing, and I’ve been vigilant about staying well until I could get immunized. I got my first injection yesterday, as Kentucky opened the 1C category! My second will be April 1st. I know that doesn’t mean we will all be back to normal, but it feels like the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning, and I look forward to seeing you again.

I’ve started a conversation with the Board and leadership about moving in the direction of retirement later this year. It’s been a very difficult decision for me, mainly because I love GNUUC so much. But my health and family really leave no options. The Board and I will keep you well informed as our discussions progress.

This year, the Ides of March will be on a Monday. We will be in the second day of Daylight Saving Time, my very favorite time. Here in central KY, it’s light until almost 10PM in June.

This year, I don’t want to be the soothsayer! I hope we don’t have to beware the ides of March, or April, or May. We all deserve a break.

With Love,

Cynthia

My daughter and a church member on the roof of a house we built in Biloxi after Katrina. He died much too young a few years later. Yesterday our congregation had its first death (not from covid) since the pandemic began. Life is #holy #uulent2021

By now, you will have heard that Tom Christenbery, husband of David Frese, member of GNUUC since its beginning, died suddenly on Tuesday morning. We hold David in our love and care, and will share news of ways we can help, and of services if they are planned.

David and I were just texting on Monday, and sharing some fun and delightful memories of childhood, snow, food, pets, traditions. From our exchange, I know that he and Tom had a beautiful last day together.

David also encouraged me to share some ideas as I had done during Advent. I’d already been considering doing this, so I got busy looking for a way to celebrate the 40 days of Lent for UUs.

Although we do not observe Lent as a sacrament, and the majority of UUs are not Trinitarian even if Christian, it touches upon practices that pre-date Christianity and that occur in many spiritual paths. Self-discipline and self-awareness are especially significant this year. Most of us have been forced to give up some things, and to forego pleasures: dining out; travel; visits with extended family; even simple things like browsing the aisles at the supermarket. Could I really be asking you to “give up” something else for Lent?

Yes and no.

You don’t have to practice self-denial unless you think it would be helpful. Simply using these forty days to increase your proximity to God, the Holy, to your own Wisdom is more than enough.

I will be sending you a missive each day based upon a word assigned by some UU folks who enjoy Lent. It will include a photo and a few brief thoughts.

As ever, feel free to ignore them if they aren’t your thing, or let us know if you’d rather not receive them!

This is today's word: “Holy”. The rest will come by e-mail.

Over twenty years ago, I took the Buddhist vows. They are simple, yet meaningful enough that one can work on them for a lifetime and not completely understand them. What I remember about that morning is that I was on retreat with my teachers, Caitriona and Michele, at Manzanita Village in San Diego County. It was about a two-hour drive from my home in Riverside. I learned about them from some friends I had started practicing meditation with, Charlie and Richard. We met weekly at their home for sitting practice. I met Charlie when she and I were in a group of homeschool parents.

Taking the vows is called “taking refuge.” One takes refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the sangha. Each of these three entities is essential to the novitiate. Even if you take refuge as a layperson, you make a promise to honor and strive to obey the 5 precepts. Put simply, they are:

No killing

No stealing

No sexual misconduct

No lying

No intoxicants

These vows can be understood very strictly (no killing means vegetarian diet) or more openly, as intentions or goals. But there is an expectation that they will be recited with others at least once every three months. I failed to keep that promise and the others in so many ways that by the end of one year I could no longer claim to be a Buddhist. Nonetheless, Buddhist practice, study, and meditation are precious to me, and are the spiritual practice to which I return.

Buddhism is less a religion than a psychology. I find it compatible with Unitarian Universalism, and in fact, a much-needed complement, because our faith does not offer an easily accessible spiritual practice to support our individual and collective enterprise.

I also love the five precepts! Even though I fail at them constantly, I find the expression of them, especially as interpreted by Manzanita Village CLICK HERE inspiring and worthy of my striving. I say this to tell you that you don’t have to be “a Buddhist” to benefit from the forms and practices.

This Sunday, I will speak about the idea of community: the sangha, and the five hindrances to mindfulness. I invite you to think about the many communities you are a part of, from bowling leagues to storytellers, and what if any “precepts” or guidelines, written or unwritten, that pertain.

See you Sunday,

Cynthia

Helene Young, at 101, visiting our UU Congregation in 2016. She is the sister of Peace Pilgrim, who walked all over the United States to promote peace and harmony.

First, many thanks to those of you who attended our virtual service this Sunday. I hope you enjoyed meeting Michele and hearing about her creative process. She sent me a note later saying: “What a lovely service and group.
Thank you for making me a part of that. Sweet dialogue in the breakout room.
Take care and much love,
Michele”

What I love about GNUUC is that I feel confident that you would welcome and appreciate our guests. Your openness to new and different ideas is impressive. Although it may seem like a no-brainer that we UUs would be curious and affirming, we are also opinionated, and outspoken. I am so grateful to have been working with you, and I feel a sense of grief and loss that it has been nearly a year since we’ve been together, shared a meal, exchanged hugs and greetings, laughed and listened to one another.

I don’t know about you, but I have felt unexpectedly sad since January. It’s true that the political situation has improved dramatically, yet at the same time, so much damage has been done to what we may have perceived as our democratic institutions that is is breathtaking to assess.

I’ll be talking with you in February about “Beloved Community”: how we can continue to persevere as a community within larger spheres of connection, and I welcome your input. I’m continuously astonished at the ways you’ve found to stay in touch with and support one another!

Meanwhile, I think a great deal about the eldest in our society. I was surprised to learn that more than one-third of COVID deaths have occurred in nursing homes and long-term care facilities. Along with the inequities and the racism that has been made manifest, a blatant disregard for our elders is now apparent.

I have always loved old people. Now that I’m becoming an old person, I understand that we may be diminished physically but that we are fully ourselves as long as we live. Even those who struggle with dementia are no less fully human.

Today we learned of the death of Sir Thomas Moore, the British man who at age 100 raised 45 million dollars for the Health service. He succumbed to the coronavirus, but he proved that you can make a difference in some way even at 100. It’s a feel-good story, but it matters. We don’t need to raise millions of dollars; just making a difference in one person’s life is worth celebrating.

I had the opportunity to meet a woman who was still living alone, riding her bicycle daily, and playing piano at age 101 when I served the UU Congregation of the South Jersey Shore. She also died this past week at age 105.

Helene Young was the sister of Peace Pilgrim, a woman who dedicated her life to walking across the country and advocating for peace. CLICK HERE to read more about her. Her sister died in 1981, but Helene worked to preserve her legacy for another forty years. Spending an afternoon with her was a precious opportunity, and made a difference in how I think of “old” age.

Helene attended our UU services from time to time, saying that if she did join a church it would be the UU Church, but she wasn’t one for organized religion.

One thing Michele and Caitriona remind us of in our Buddhist meditation is the presence of the ancestors. They are a part of us, in spirit as well as genetically. We call upon the ancestors for strength.

Today, we have living treasures among us, people who still remember WW2, people who lived long before cell phones, computers, and even television. Can you make contact with an elder, either in our church community or elsewhere, and listen to their stories? It usually takes just a question or two to get started. Let me know if you do!

Remembering,

Cynthia

Visiting Helene at home with Colby Tippins, a member of the UU Congregation of the South Jersey Shore, in 2016

I have been doing the same thing most of you have been doing this morning.

Watching… and sobbing. I know this Inauguration and change of power in our government does not alter many of the things that we as liberals still must stand against. Racism, capitalist greed, voter suppression, climate change, on & on.

But today feels like a breather.

Today we can celebrate the fact that humanity, decency, and integrity still exist.

I know liberals, and I know how cynical we can be. But just for this time, let’s allow the words of the beautiful, talented Amanda Gorman, a 22-year-old poet who like Biden (and me) overcame a speech impediment, as she both faces the harsh reality of what happened just 2 weeks ago and offers a glimmer of hope. CLICK HERE to listen again, or if you missed her amazing poem.

When I returned to ministry from semi-retirement, it was in no small part due to a feeling that there must be something I could do to give people hope, to provide a container for people to get through what was a more and more harrowing series of national events.

But whatever I thought I was doing, what happened was that you saved me. You helped me with your kindness, your warm welcome, your understanding and patience with me, even as we’ve faced this oxymoron called “virtual ministry.” You renewed my faith not just in human nature, but in liberal religion and in Unitarian Universalism.

I thank you, and I love you all.

Cynthia

My elder granddog (Gia, age 13) visiting the farm. One thing we can all agree on: puppies are cute.

Dear, dear people:

I, like you (I assume), have been inundated with a barrage of images, sounds, facts, lies, opinions, and prognostication about the Insurrection of January 6th. Perhaps like me, you weren’t surprised. Maybe you were shocked only that there was so little preparation, so little defense. As your Minister, I don’t need to tell you how to feel or, for that matter, to repeat or curate what you’ve already read or considered.

Here’s what I would love to suggest:

This event should have horrified all of us. But those of us who experienced childhood trauma may be particularly affected by the news of this past week. Why? Many reasons. Childhood trauma, even when dealt with, creates deep wounds in us that must be acknowledged. In much the same way that certain sounds and signals re-traumatize vets with PTSD, violence of the past week took many of us to a place where we’d been betrayed, bullied, violated, abused, and attacked with words and actions.

For me, those insurrectionists (I feel like that word gives them too much credit, since they were more of an angry mob) triggered every memory of white, entitled men (and these are NOT ALL MEN, in fact they’re a minority) who’ve intimidated, demeaned, and objectified me. Behind the subtle “humor” and good-natured “kidding” lies a rage that can be unleashed at any moment. Women, people of color, marginalized people, and many men know this.

Furthermore, some of us were not just the bullied but were also the bullies. We like to think we are nothing like those people. But if we are honest we all have a rageful, vengeful, maybe even a violent self somewhere in us. I know I do. It’s not the place I order my life from, but it can come out if I think I’m defending something or someone I deeply believe in.

So. We may regress in some ways that surprise us. Eating too much or unhealthfully. Slipping away from routines that we rely upon to stay healthy and steady. Watching too much TV or spending all day on the phone “doom-scrolling,” as one pundit called it. I found myself retreating into a documentary about Scientology on Netflix.

A colleague mentioned on social media that a HS classmate had contacted her on LinkedIn. She was aghast that he clearly disremembered having taunted her for being Jewish and had even put a swastika on her locker. She wondered what to do. Some replies suggested she ignore him, others that she confront him.

I didn’t have a suggestion about what to do, but applauded her for being vulnerable and reaching out to us. Colleagues she knew well, and others, like me, she knew mostly online. Her post gave me the incentive to think about my own responses, and also to think about ways I might have been complicit in bullying long ago. No, I didn’t paint swastikas or anything like that, but bullying takes many forms.

Reach out. Try to take care of yourself, but don’t pile judgment on top of shame by scolding yourself if you don’t. Avoid people who make you feel worse. Join your church family, even if you don’t feel like it. Someone else may be encouraged by seeing you there. I love you!

Cynthia

Our new grandpuppy, Haze! Her older sister Gia is completely traumatized.

In Sunday’s sermon, I mentioned the destructive and tragic event that took place in Nashville on December 25th. I started to say “bombing,” but I was impelled to say “terrorism” since I had read so much and contemplated not just the events surrounding the explosion but the post on social media made by the Gideon’s Army organization (above.) Since we made a contribution to them after the tornado, I have followed their activities. In late December, I took part in required training for people who want to volunteer with them. I did this because I would love for some of us to work more closely with them as the pandemic ebbs and I don’t ask you to do what I will not do myself. I was so impressed with the welcome and wisdom of the leaders, and the open-hearted, generous but firm and clear reminders that when white people come into Black and Brown space, there are certain caveats we must remember.

One of those is to center the voices of POC (People of Color.) That does not mean to silence or ignore other voices, but to pay particular attention to the ways in which marginalized voices have been left out. The point Gideon’s Army was making may seem too extreme for some: what is terrorism? And yet, the question they ask: how might the words have been chosen had the suicide bomber been an immigrant, a person of color, or of a different faith, is one worth considering. As UUs, we are never afraid to ask and discuss those hard questions! I welcome and encourage these discussions.

This stands in contrast to other anti-racism efforts I’ve encountered and gives me so much hope for Nashville (as do NOAH and other organizations).

I hope you’ve had a chance to view the video of the lecture given by Rasheedat Fetuga, the founder of Gideon’s Army, at FUUN this Fall. CLICK HERE to see it if you have not! If you don’t follow her, or Gideon’s Army, you may not know that her son has been in the hospital with severe injuries. There is a meal donation service that is set up to provide meals from restaurants and food services via donations, called “Meal Train.” I was able to donate FOR GNUUC, so thank YOU for funding a Minister’s Discretionary account! I was excited to learn about this service, and I thought, BRILLIANT! We could use this ourselves to organize meals for folks who need them.

CLICK HERE to see Rasheedat’s page and to learn more about Meal Train. It works for families as well as for organizations!

When I come across something like this, I’m likely to think, wow! That seems so simple. But it took a creative and imaginative way of looking at a challenge in order to make it happen in the world. In the coming weeks, I will be talking about how we can harness our own individual as well as collective imaginations to come up with ways to meet the challenges as well as opportunities for GNUUC.

Stay Tuned!

Downtown Springfield, KY in snow, on the left, our erstwhile Airbnb, a “failure” of sorts, but a big lesson!

Today, Willow came to visit and we found a bag of Playmobil toys that were in with our holiday stuff. Some years ago, it was a Nativity scene. I made an effort to explain the Christmas story to Willow, but since she attended a Jewish preschool and her mom is atheist, she got Jesus mixed up with Moses and talked about how he was floating in the river and the King tried to kill him. I looked but could not find any baby Jesus nor anything that resembled Mary. There were lots of animals and even a Santa Claus.

Looking everywhere for Jesus is sort of the liberal Christian story. Finally, we realize that whatever we needed to learn from the Christmas myth and the parables of Jesus are already within us. In fact, not only are they not outside of us, we will never find them, anywhere, not in things, not in people, not in places. The Divine Child lives within us as Truth, as innocence, as hope.

That’s why Sophia Lyon Fahs, a UU educator who became a Minister in her mid-seventies (she lived to be 101), said, “Every night a child is born is a holy night.”

I know not every UU finds prayer helpful. Those of us who pray don’t appeal to a personal God who is listening to our petitions. But praying is a way to distill our deepest longings, to focus our grief, to turn over control of life, and let things unfold as they will. It is a way of honoring our divine child and our interiority, much like listening to our dreams, and tapping into archetypal themes. In that regard, the Christ child story is very much a part of the collective wisdom.

The value of the Christmas story is that we can always believe that something good will happen, something is always being born, humans will continue to persevere and humanity will prevail

I look forward to seeing you on Christmas Eve…. and beyond! With Love, Cynthia

And here’s the picture from today’s Advent calendar!

Marjorie as Gerda in the Snow Queen (addendum to today’s advent calendar)

I feel certain that this holiday season will be both one we remember and one that we take the time to remember holidays past. I know for some of us the notion of nostalgia about the holidays is downright absurd. Even if you did not have a single moment of joy to speak of, try to find some way in which you were gladdened, through something you saw, listened to, or had someone relay to you.

I’ve already told you that the days between Thanksgiving are the most challenging time of year for me.
Starting with my Dad’s only brother, who died Thanksgiving night, through the loss of my first child, my mother’s death anniversary, my nephew Jim (who died of overdose/suicide 15 years ago this Sunday,) my Uncle Jay Dee Patton’s death on Christmas eve, and any number of family fights and addiction challenges, I have to search to find an unscathed memory.

What helps me most is to lower my expectations, as Don Juan told Castaneda, “to almost nothing.”

We would have been in New Mexico this year with my son Colin and his partner Liana. Of course, we had to cancel. Sadly, very sadly, Colin and Liana have split up as well. We are grieving the loss to our family.

As the years go by, I treasure reading holiday poems and stories, listening to music, and simple pleasures of the arts and of nature. I have to think of it as a gift to myself. My personal favorite is A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas. What is yours?

So besides taking time to remember, take some time to re-member your spirit, to bring the scattered pieces of your heart and your dreams back together, however that looks to you.

Please plan to join your church family on Christmas Eve for some festive and thoughtful time. You will get information about how to join and when the recorded service will be available in plenty of time!

Until then, stay warm and stay safe!

Cynthia