Service is Our Prayer

The Crew from UUCAS helps with the community meal.

I was walking on a trail along the shore of a beautiful pond one winter’s day, relishing the sounds of the birds, the peace of the calm water, and began to notice a bottle cap here, a bit of broken plastic there. It seemed only right to do something to protect the beauty of this space this eco-system that had filled me with wonder and peace. I filled the pockets of my coat, and resolved to come back for a couple of cans that wouldn’t fit in my pockets. The next day I was happily picking up cans and bottles as I walked, until I rounded a corner and saw the pile of trash that had accumulated along the bank in the winter storms. It made the full bag of trash I was feeling so good about seem puny by comparison.

I decided two things in that moment- first, that I had hit my limit. My bag was full, I was tired. I was not up to tackling that oversized mess entangled in the steep bank. Second, I remembered that I am not alone. There were other folks in this community that I was visiting, I had to trust that others who cared about this beautiful place would also lend a hand as they were able.

There’s a wonderful group on social media called “the Glorious Trash Birds” who organize cleanups, and take photos of what they pick up while they walk. They have a tradition called “one piece Wednesday” where they encourage everyone, trash birds or not, to pick up a piece of trash on Wednesday, something easy and achievable. This encourages me when I get down on my small efforts. But still… There’s a lot of trash, much that is beyond my control. I can’t even get all the trash I see on my morning dog walks. Does it matter when I pick up a few loose bits? This was when I remembered the words we shared for our chalice lighting “service is our prayer” The act of bending down and picking up the plastic bag drifting across the sidewalk is like a body prayer saying “I love this place and want to protect it. I worry about the plastics in the ocean, and pray for a solution. The solution is bigger than me, but it is my heart’s desire. I pray for a day when the creeks and lakes and oceans are clean again.”

There is a great theological debate that has been argued along the centuries: “faith vs. works” – which is more important to our salvation, what we believe or what we do? [i]

It says in the book of James in the Christian scriptures:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. [2:14–17]

Whereas Paul says “a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ” so there’s a strong belief in some protestant traditions in “faith alone”

I bet if you’ve spent any time at a UU church you have figured out that we put a lot of stock in good works. We like to roll up our sleeves and as my seminary buddy used to say “build the kin-dom of God on earth”

Faith is where we can struggle. In prosperous, peaceful times, we see our little acts make a real difference. We work hard and the work pays off. But sometimes, in times of struggle, we see our work scattered and broken. We know clearly that the work of our hands alone cannot repair the world.

The history of the Ladies’ aid society of the Cortland UU church, begins this way: “The Aid society in the beginning no doubt grew out of groups of women who met together during the Civil War to sew for the Army.” I can only imagine what it was like to live through that time of the Civil war, here in Cortland. Far from the front, but worried for family members who were away fighting, dying. Here at home there were food shortages, and economic hardship. With a whole generation of fighters away at war, the women sewing those bandages most likely had additional responsibilities and burdens. There was much work to be done and not enough hands to do it.

Still thousands of people all over the country sewed for the soldiers. Imagine a time when the US army could not even supply it’s wounded soldiers with enough bandages, much less proper uniforms. It reminds me a bit of those first months of covid when there were not enough masks, how quickly industrious people set to making them for the folks near and far who needed them. It helped to be doing something when so much was out of our control. I know I was sure grateful for the beautiful handmade masks neighbors and friends made for me. The bandages made by the ladies’ aid society could not staunch the great would of the civil war, or bring their loved ones home safe, but I am certain that each and every bandage was a help and support to the nurses struggling in impossible conditions, and the people whose lives they helped save. And I’m sure it helped those women too, to come together in someone’s living room with tender anxious hearts to do the thing they could do. [ii]

I know when I knit a prayer shawl for someone in specific, they come to mind often as I knit. It really does help me hold that person in my heart, each time I pick up my knitting. This is what I think of when I hear those words “service is our prayer”

Now a hug shawl is not nearly so practical as bandages, but both require work and faith. The work of doing what things we can do, and the faith of knowing that it is not by our efforts alone that the war will be ended, that the wounds will be healed, that hearts will be made whole.

There are many ways to serve. Tasks of all shapes and sizes. What’s interesting to me about that word “serve” is that it is a transitive verb – we serve someone or something. So it is important to ask who or what am I serving? It is a humble word -- it puts the needs of others before ourselves. Humility is important here because we often think we know what someone else needs. Harms have been done over the centuries by people of faith deciding they knew what another needed; think of the Indian boarding schools, the great harms that were perpetrated there in the name of saving souls. Paternalism is a word that comes from a root that means “father” to help someone like a father would. Which means treating the person being helped like a child. It’s a characteristics of white supremacy culture.

This is something we were very aware of when the Athens congregation wanted to do something to support the black community. When we reached out to a group called “Mother’s Helping Mothers” to ask what they needed, the leaders told us that we were the only organization to ask what they needed, Most called to tell them what we wanted to do for them.

Here's another example, I was part of the project grow board as we chose exotic heirloom tomatoes to grow, excited about increasing the diversity of food species and keeping heirloom varieties going. We held an open meeting of our members and heard back from the community that people don’t know what to do with a green tomato, and could we just please provide some ordinary red tomatoes that was what they truly wanted, that trying to grow your own food and eat more healthy vegetables was already a lot for most families. Serving with humility means asking those we serve what it is they most want and need.

The Athens congregation takes as its mission “To live ethically, grow spiritually and serve lovingly” I think that’s important- that we serve lovingly. The love we put into the doing is important. There’s a line from the Hobbit movie, Gandalf the great wizard says to the homebody hobbit Bilbo, who is not sure how he can be of use in the epic fight of good and evil that is unfolding around him. Gandalf says:

“Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”

These are challenging times in which we find ourselves. It’s hard to know what we can do to ease the suffering of neighbors and friends, much less those far away whose stories break our hearts. But like the women who sewed bandages during the Civil war, we can make service our prayer. Spirit of life, May each stitch we sew, peace of trash we pick up, ride we give to a friend, hand we hold in the hospital, raised bed garden we build, tomato we harvest for the foodbank, may the work and the faith of our small acts of kindness and love be part of the healing of our world.

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[i] Here’s a deep dive if you are curious https://rsc.byu.edu/vol-13-no-3-2012/paul-james-faith-works and an overview of the divide from a catholic perspective https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/faith-and-works-0

[ii] http://civilwarrx.blogspot.com/2013/02/civil-war-bandages.html Here’s a lovely piece about “lint” for wounds https://civilwartalk.com/threads/the-lint-societies-what-women-did-and-why.156511/ One about what women sewed for themselves and the soldiers: http://www.lovetosewstudio.com/sewing-womans-clothing-during-the-civil-war-times/

The Wisdom of Traditional Meals

'Tis the season for traditional meals. Some we are looking forward to, some we are dreading, some we are skipping this year. Is there a meal in your family where you can count on the menu being pretty much the same year after year? For the purpose of this reflection, I'm thinking about all kinds of families, including both the ones we were assigned to and the ones we chose. I invite you to call to mind the meals that worked, the meals where you felt welcome, where it seemed like generally everybody found something to eat, no one went away hungry.

A lot of us have just celebrated Thanksgiving, and I remember growing up Thanksgiving was exactly the same every year. Was it like that in your family? Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes made by Gramma, cranberry sauce made by the youngest cook in the family, Waldorf Salad and pumpkin pie with real whipped cream.

When I met my partner Eric, he was a little confused by the homemade cranberry sauce, (his was a canned cranberry family) but totally grossed out by the Waldorf salad- which is- anyone else have this for thanksgiving? It’s cubed apples, celery and mayonnaise. Eric had never had it before, and he thought it was pretty gross. That’s fair. I like it, but that’s fair.

But here’s the one that shocked me- he didn’t like Pumpkin pie. Can you imagine! In fact, his family didn’t have a traditional thanksgiving dessert! I didn’t realize how different family traditions could be when it was just us and the grandparents when I was growing up. I just thought that was Thanksgiving.

As I grew up my parents got divorced and moved out of our family home, now Thanksgiving was different every year. While I was in Seminary we often had thanksgiving with our Vegetarian friends, and stuffed acorn squash was a staple for a while. One thanksgiving I was introduced to a sweet potato casserole I actually liked- and thought “Where have you been all my life?!”

It wasn’t until I became interested in local seasonal food, that I noticed the traditional dishes for thanksgiving matched so well with what was growing at the farm. Potatoes, brussels sprouts, cranberries, pumpkins, apples- these are what is available in the fall if you live around here, where those traditions originated. Even though we now get almost any food we want at the grocery store any time of the year, the thanksgiving meal still has its roots in the wisdom of place and season- if you live in the north east that is.

It wasn’t until I was cooking for a family of my own, that I began to understand another wisdom. Those meals where everyone feels satisfied don’t just happen. It takes a lot of thought to have something for everyone- the niece that doesn’t eat meat and hates squash, the half of the family that loves giblet gravy, the others who find that gross. When I had to give up dairy, that might have meant giving up mashed potatoes, but we came to a new tradition -- the bowl scooped out for Darcey before the milk and butter go in. Well I thought it was a new tradition, but I just learned recently that PapPap also didn’t eat dairy, so this was not a new tradition, but an old one put into use again. When people eat together regularly, they begin to know what meals will satisfy them all.

Even when there were only 3 of us in our household, there was a tension between my dietary preferences and needs for a low-fat diet with whole grains and lots of diverse vegetables, and my son’s preference for more mainstream American comfort foods. Through years of trial and error we came up with a cannon of foods we all could enjoy. (And when I go out of town they make a giant tray of mac and cheese the first night I’m gone). Over a couple of decades eating with my partner’s family, I began to wonder about how those mealtime habits and traditions came to be. I thought of how our traditional family meals might be some combination of the foods that were available near our ancestors, and the unique genetic heritage of body and health in our shared genes. My husband’s family comes from Estonia on his father’s side, with a short growing season and cold winters, where it makes perfect sense they would be a meat and potatoes family, and live to a ripe old age eating the traditional foods of their people.

Over years of eating together, that core set of dishes- that can be made with local ingredients, and work with the dietary needs and preferences of those who share a table become the spread we see at the traditional meals.

This is the nature of tradition- like the holiday meal, they are honed over time, year after year as people use them. The wisdom of all those people, who cooked and ate, who shaped the meal, as the meal shaped them. In good times and in bad the tradition grounds us, connects us to those who came before, to the wisdom of our ancestors. And like all things, traditions change… need to change as the world evolves and grows.

One of the things we are working hard on, in our Unitarian Universalist tradition, is to notice who is not fed by the meal we are preparing. I bet most of you know what it is to show up for a meal with a new group, a new side of the family, and stare uncertainly at an unfamiliar spread. If you have a dietary restriction, you know that sinking feeling- there is nothing I can eat here. I’ll always remember my friends rehearsal dinner at a traditional and fancy Chinese restaurant- course after course of beautiful platters came out, but at our table most of our dining companions were vegetarian or vegan, and they sat with empty plates. Finally on the 4th course, the pork came with a shredded cabbage garnish, and my friends took their first bites of the night. The next day at he wedding the catering was all vegan, and I imagine different people were fed and bewildered.

The church potluck is a wonderful example of this process. We start to notice whose plate is empty, and talk about what would make us nourished and satisfied. As new folks come and go we realize the vegan soup is not gluten free, or that the beautiful vegan gluten free dish contains nightshades, which we didn’t realize made it dangerous for one of our friends.

But sometimes, if we pay attention, if we listen, if we say what we need, and contribute what we can, people go away fed. This is a wonderful metaphor for community. When we come together, week after week, we start to know one another’s needs, restrictions, desires. We learn a new recipe with almond flower when the birthday girl is gluten free. We put cheese on the side when we think of Bob, we make the special cake Elizabeth said she loved. I have seen you notice, and care. In a small congregation like Cortland, I know some of you actually have a running list in your mind of what each member can eat.

Once we’ve found a pattern that works, and settled in, it becomes easy. This past thanksgiving my partner made gravy, as he always does, I made my families’ cranberry sauce recipe, as I always do, and some extra vegetables for the table because I like extra vegetables. And Nonie made the mashed potatoes, and took some out for me before she adds the butter, like she always does. We don’t have to think too hard about it.

But when new folks join us, we have to add a new layer of consciousness to what we do. This can become a tradition too. My friend Suzanne who is an excellent hostess, always asks “is there anything you need, or anything you aren’t eating right now?” before I come to visit. I remember the first potluck I took my vegetarian friend to at my seminary. I was so worried there would be nothing for her to eat, but in fact there was no meat on the table at all, except one casserole that had a little tag sticking out of it “warning, bacon!” We can’t possibly expect to know everyone’s needs and preferences, so in the process of getting to know one another, of finding that just right meal that has a bit of something for everyone, we talk about it until we get just the right mix. When we are learning new traditions, or whenw e are including new people into old traditions, communication helps.

Then maybe it will take some learning- we have a chance to grow our knowledge and understanding. What is gluten anyway? And did you know some vegan hot dogs contain gluten? When we first started using the word “woke” what we meant was that we had woken up to the needs and experiences of others that we had been asleep to, that we had not been conscious of, particularly around race and racism. But another way to think of it is just old fashioned politeness, being a good host. At a good meal, everyone goes away with a full belly. And when know what’s in the food we are serving, and whether that is nourishing or toxic to the folks at our table, that is true hospitality, the kind we aspire to in this congregation.

We love when new people come to visit or to stay in this community, but when they do what’s on the table may change from “the usual” It usually takes time to find a new equilibrium. Eventually it is the tradition that at our holiday gathering, cookies baked with almond flour; we may not even remember that we first did this to make sure Betty had something sweet to end her meal.

In this community, though we love to eat together, we are really here to feed one another’s heart’s and spirits. On any given Sunday, maybe there is something on the table you can’t eat, but hopefully there is something you can.

ON our metaphorical table there are things like worship, or pickle-ball, or that book group coming up. In this congregation we have theists and atheists, folks who want more God talk, and folks who want less. Folks who want to run back and forth on a pickle-ball court, and folks who need to just sit. Folks who want worship to lift up the crucial social justice issues, and folks who feel worship should be a refuge from events of the day. Not every dish will be right for you, and that can be disappointing at times, but that’s the challenge and gift of community- to hold our diversity in mutuality and love. Please tell us what you like and need, think of others, make space for their needs too. And be sure to bring your favorite dish (real or metaphorical) just because we’ve never had it before, doesn’t mean it won’t become our new favorite.

As you move through this season full of traditions, I encourage you to get curious about where your own traditions come from, and who is fed by them. I encourage you to notice whose plate is empty, and ask what would nourish them, I encourage you to try new things, experiment and explore,

May this be a place where our tradition grounds us, connects us to the wisdom of all who have come before, and always makes space at the table for new people, new sources of nourishment and joy.

Sacred Places

Photo of Oak Flat by Sacred Land Film Project

In the mountains of Arizona, there is a place called Oak Flats, a sacred site used for ceremony by the Apache people. The Apache Stronghold describes it as “a place to pray, collect water and medicinal plants, gather acorns, honor the people who are buried there, and perform sacred religious ceremonies. Oak Flat is listed on the National Register of Historic Places as a Traditional Cultural Property“[i] But this sacred place is located over a great triangle of copper, one of the biggest copper reserves in the country. And though it was protected from mining since 1955 by an executive order by President Eisenhower, in last minute addition to the 2015 national defense authorization act, a rider was added to swap this sacred space for some other land owned by the mining company. The save Apache Stronghold has been fighting a legal battle to save this land, and the Supreme court is scheduled to decide if it will take up the case on December 6.

I heard Wendsler Noise talk about this place when he came to speak at SUNY Geneseo. He told us that this is one of those places that tradition tells us must be protected to help the world start again when pollution and destruction have wounded our natural places. In November (2019) Noise went to visit the U S Forest Service officials, and, to quote Noise “ I … told them that I am vacating San Carlos reservation and I’m going back to Oak Flat (Chi’chil Bildagoteel), a sacred place that our people were forcefully removed from under the United States. I denounced all their negligence and the pending land transfer to the mining company, Resolution Copper.”

Then, says Noise “I left the reservation, I walked back the way they had brought in my family, forcefully, on foot, and I moved back to my ancestral homeland of Oak Flat. That’s where I reside today.”

When he spoke to us at Geneseo, he told the story of a woman who visited, a white woman, protestant. The place touched her, she said she could feel the power of the place, she felt connected with Spirit there. In this David and Golith court battle with the powerful mining company, they were collecting amicus briefs, and this woman’s story was included. But when Noise went through the final filing, her story wasn’t there. He asked his lawyer, but the lawyer said that, from a legal standpoint, land can’t be sacred to white people, because we are people of the book.

Having a sacred book you can carry seems like a survival adaptation of people who have left their sacred places. Perhaps your family is like mine- my family left another land and came to this. A grandfather fled antisemitism in Austria, a great grandfather came to farm. Others… we don’t even know what countries many branches of my family come from. I have never stepped foot on the continent of my ancestors birth.

This is normal for many people who live in this country. In our culture every place becomes a bedroom community for your job, or a resource to be turned into products and profit.

But we in this congregation have talked a lot about coming to know the places we live, to challenge the place doesn’t matter, and I know I feel a change in my own heart and mind gradually dawning.

I think how my heart would break if they cut down the honey locust trees across the street where the squirrel nests are.

I remember how we stood at Greenspring in a circle around the burial mound for our friend and member Jeff Singer, as we threw our rose petals on his grave, how the soil is our ancestors. That old phrase “dust to dust” – reminds us that the dirt beneath our feet is a sacred legacy of generations of beings, ready to become new life. Oak flats is such a place, where the ancestors reside.

Have you ever been to a place that felt sacred? I know when the Cortland congregation was talking about selling that building, we sat there in the social hall talking about all the memories, about the generations of people, of history that passed through there. We talked of the feeling of being there. It feels like a sacred space. And this space we hold so dear has only been loved by us for a couple hundred years old, not the thousands of years of Oak Flats.

More and more I believe that place matters. Places are not interchangeable, different places have different feelings, different stories to tell, different wisdom.

View from my favorite spot on Lake Ontario

Perhaps you have a special place where just being there changes something in you, nourishes your heart or spirit like no other place?  I think about a spot on Lake Ontario where my partner and I return year after year, how something lifts and lightens as we round the bend and catch sight of the lake. I think about a retreat center where my heart and spirit have been transformed beyond what I thought possible. The director says with a chuckle that it is the place itself that does the work, and I believe him.

The key to the case now before the supreme court is religious freedom. Whether or not you believe that a place can be sacred, it is a deeply held belief of indigenous peoples that place can be sacred, that certain places hold wisdom, connect us to our ancestors, help us be closer to Spirit. This is not just a theoretical belief, but a “direct experience of divine mystery and wonder” That different places have different wisdom to offer- one cannot simply pick a place and declare it sacred, the way we might find a new site to build a church.

When we understand that land is sacred, one is inclined to follow practices that do less damage, that are more harmonious with the community of beings who live in your place. I’m sure you heard in the news about the big Biodiversity report:

“Three-quarters of the land-based environment and about 66% of the marine environment have been significantly altered by human actions. On average these trends have been less severe or avoided in areas held or managed by Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities.”[ii]

Siham Drissi who works at the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) says:

“When land is owned, managed or occupied in a traditional way, the word “traditional” refers to a knowledge that stems from centuries-old observation and interaction with nature. This knowledge is often embedded in a cosmology that reveres the one-ness of life, considers nature as sacred and acknowledges humanity as a part of it. And it encompasses practical ways to ensure the balance of the environment in which they live, so it may continue to provide services such as water, fertile soil, food, shelter and medicines.”[iii]
"UNEP also engages with religious leaders and communities to work with Indigenous Peoples. A focus of our work is the mutual recognition of the sanctity of life and nature, and the equality among the beliefs of the world’s religions and the traditional spiritualities of Indigenous Peoples. In doing so, we hope to contribute to the safeguarding traditional knowledge, while healing our planet by facilitating the reconciliation of historical conflicts between religions and Indigenous Peoples."

What can we do, so far away from the mountains of Arizona, so far from the halls of power in Washington DC? In the short term we can send donations, we can sign petitions, call our lawmakers. But starting now, and for a long time, we must first listen to  “the original keepers of the lands, those who obey natural law and are in the service of the lands on which you stand.”[Joy Harjo] [iv] When someone like Noise who was raised in the traditional ways and served as former Chairman and Councilman of the San Carlos Apache Tribe, chooses to give up his life in his home, to live for years in an encampment to protect one single sacred place, can we listen deeply? can we learn something about a radically different way of being in a place, of knowing a place, of protecting and living in reciprocity with a place?

Second, we can come to know our own places, even if we live, as I do, on a downtown street with the noise of heavy traffic competing with the twitter of birds. Even sitting on the porch watching the squirrels, scampering across the branches of the honey locust trees, noticing the patches where the soil looks healthy and happy, and the places where living things struggle, is a spiritual practice. It brings me joy and grounding, but also the intimate knowledge of the family of beings. The more we pay attention, the more we listen as if place can be a teacher, can be a guide, a wise elder, the more we will understand the importance of that relationship. The more we will see ourselves as relatives. We begin to look out for our tree neighbors, our bird neighbors the same as we look out for our human neighbors.

As Noise said in his talk with the Poor People's Campaign: “we really needed to come back and to re-strengthen the connection that we have with Mother Earth, and with ourselves, before we can go anywhere or impact anything. It really started from there.”

Our new Unitarian Universalist statement of values says:

“We honor the interdependent web of all existence. With reverence for the great web of life and with humility, we acknowledge our place in it. We covenant to protect Earth and all beings from exploitation. We will create and nurture sustainable relationships of care and respect, mutuality and justice. We will work to repair harm and damaged relationships.”

This practice is good for our spirits and hearts, but it is also good for the world, human and non-human alike. The more we know the land, the more we listen and love the land, the better protectors we will be. Let us listen to those known this land intimately for generations, and follow practices that nurture and protect these sacred places. And let us listen the earth herself, the spirit of life who are part of this healing. They will support us in this healing as they have always held and supported us. We, UUs, renew our commitment to listen and participate in restoration and healing as each of us is called in our own unique ways.

 

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[i] http://www.apache-stronghold.com/take-action.html 

Another helpful article about the Oak Flat campaign https://www.nationalgeographic.com/environment/article/oak-flat-exchange-arizona-sacred-site-mining-company

 [ii] Intergovernmental Science-Policy  study on Biodivserity https://www.ipbes.net/news/Media-Release-Global-Assessment

[iii]  The United Nations: [Siham Drissi is a Programme Management officer at the Ecosystems division at the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)]

08 Jun 2020 Story Nature Action

Indigenous Peoples and the nature they protect

https://www.unep.org/news-and-stories/story/indigenous-peoples-and-nature-they-protect

[iv]  [Joy Harjo “For those who would govern” p. 74. ]