Dear Ones:

I hope and trust this letter finds you well. I hope and trust you are enjoying spring. As I write in mid-April I’m beginning to contemplate our ministry themes for May and June. They go together: Relatedness and Borders. You often hear me speak of our relatedness to the whole of life. (Sometimes I use the word connect­edness.) For me such language is not hyperbole; it is a biological truth, a physical truth. We are related to the whole of life. We are made of the same stuff as stars. All matter emerged out of the same primordial soup.

However, it’s one thing to name our relatedness to the whole of life—to call it “factual.” It’s another thing entirely to know it and feel it deep in our bones. It’s not an easy fact to keep front and center in our con­sciousness. Why? Because our lives are also filled with borders. We are related to the whole of life, but our skin acts as a border between ourselves and “not ourselves.”  We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, but we also know this has never been an easy moral obligation to meet. (Sometimes we can’t stand our neighbors. Sometimes they can’t stand us!) There are many different kinds of borders in our lives (emotional, social, political, geographical, etc.), and thus our relatedness to the whole of life, and sometimes even to our own family members, can seem elusive. Many spiritual practices are designed to help us transcend borders and experience relatedness.

On Tuesday evening, May 15^th, from 7:00 to 9:15, at our meeting house, I will participate in a debate/ dialogue with a conservative, evangelical Christian minister, the Rev. John Rankin. Our topic for the evening (which will be taped for a radio show) will be “What are the Politics of Jesus: Inclusive or Exclusive?” This feels to me like an experiment in finding relatedness in the midst of some fairly profound borders that exist between us. Rev. Rankin was raised in the Universalist Church of West Hartford, but left that congregation and converted to a Christian Evangelical identity in his teenage years. He is passionate about the Bible and about what we might call traditional family values. He is a formidable debater. He is a kind and caring soul. He is one who firmly believes it is better to disagree in the presence of relationship rather than its absence. When we disagree within a relationship we may not change each other’s convictions, but our dialogue and de­bate have the potential to spur our own growth and keep our borders open. When we disagree in the absence of relationship, we are more likely to become rigid in our thinking, strengthen our borders, and miss opportunities for growth. I’m nervous about this event on May 15^th, but also very excited. I hope you’ll join us.

As we journey together through the next few months, expect to hear much more from me on the inter­play between relatedness and borders.

With Love, Rev. Josh

Dear Ones:

“Creativity is our natural state,” says science writer Jonah Lehrer. I think this is a good, solid idea with which to begin reflecting on creation—our ministry theme for April.

I like the word creation. I experience it as an evocative and poetic word. But I also recognize it can be one of those challenging or “haunting” words for liberal religious people. In traditional theological parlance creation refers to the earth and the universe; it implies they were created by an omnipotent, omniscient deity in some long ago divine act. Most of us are familiar with the story of creation in the Biblical book of Genesis: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth . . . .” In the western world this traditional understanding of creation became highly problematic once Charles Darwin introduced his theory of evolution with the publication of The Origin of Species in 1859. If the theory of evolution is accurate (I believe it is) then the world must be much older than the mere 5,000 years the Bible suggests. Many traditional theological assumptions came crashing down as a result of Darwin’s work.

Nevertheless, the traditional understanding of creation has resurfaced in recent decades on the battlefield of the American culture wars: in debates over the teaching of religion in public schools, and in the emergence of so-called “creation science” or “intelligent design.” I don’t put much stock in the latter. I’ve preached on it from time to time. To me, intelligent design is both bad science and bad theology.

But I don’t want to spend the month critiquing traditional understandings of creation. Rather, I want to reflect on the impulse that lies behind the telling of creation stories. What are such stories for? What human yearnings (or anxieties) do they address? I also want to explore the idea that the world and the universe, rather than having been created, are themselves inherently and continuously creative. And since we human beings, like all living things, are intimately connected to the world and the universe, doesn’t Jonah Lehrer’s statement ring true? That creativity is our natural state? Which leads me finally to the question that feels most important and most relevant to our spiritual lives: how do we enter into our natural state? How do we access the creative essence at the heart of who we are? I hope these questions strike you as meaningful too. I hope this spring you will find the creative well within you!

With love,

Rev. Josh

Dear Ones:

Our ministry theme for March is community. I admit it’s no coincidence that we chose this theme for this month. March is also the month in which we kick off our Annual Appeal. In short, it’s the month when we ask each other to make as generous as possible a financial pledge to UUS:E for the coming fiscal year. March is the month in which we ask each of us to reflect on the value UUS:E holds in our lives. What does this spiri­tual community mean to us? What would we lose if it suddenly disappeared? And just as important, what can we do to make it even more valuable, more precious, more meaningful?

I’d like to share with you some of the things that have excited me recently about our congregation. First, we are slowly building the UUS:E Council of Elders, which I believe will result in UUS:E’s elders being more visible in and integral to the life of the congregation. Don’t miss their March 11^th worship service!

Second, speaking of worship, judging from feedback we’ve been receiving, I believe our Sunday ser­vices are as meaningful and powerful as they’ve been in my nine years as UUS:E’s minister. Not only has our lay-led worship been exceptional, but we’ve had some wonderful special guests, including Bishop John Seld­ers for World AIDS Day, Imam Kashif Abdul-Karim speaking about the connections he sees between Islam and UUism, Matt Meyer leading us in drumming and song, and spoken word artist Uni Q. Mical reflecting on restlessness.

Third, we have successfully expanded our Adult Religious Education offerings. My personal favorites include last fall’s course on Howard Thurman led by Bishop Selders, our four-session survey of Unitarian Uni­versalist Christianity, and our showing of the movie “Raw Faith.” (If you missed “Raw Faith,” I would be happy to show it again—just let me know.) I’m also looking forward to “Theology in a Secular Age,” which I’ll be teaching in March and April, and the online book discussion group, “Chaos, Wonder, and the Spiritual Adventure of Parenting.”

Finally, UUS:E members have been present at a number of powerful social justice actions in Greater Hartford, including  the Interfaith Fellowship for Universal Health Care’s Valentine’s Day prayer circle at the SustiNet Cabinet and the Governor’s office, as well as a press conference in support of Sujitno Sajuti, an Indo­nesian immigrant who has been unnecessarily detained by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement.

UUS:E is growing, not only in numbers, but in the depth and quality of our programming, and in our positive relation to the wider community as a congregation that acts for justice and “stands on the side of love.” Our community is growing! Let’s celebrate our growth! Please mark your calendars! Saturday, March 17^th is our Annual Appeal kick-off celebration, featuring great food, music, and fellowship. I hope to see you there.

Our ministry theme for February is restlessness. Hmm. This is not a traditional theological term—not one of those haunting words. It’s more of a feeling or a condition. For example, my children grow restless when they’re bored. Many of us start to feel restless in February because we’re tired of winter and we’re beginning to sense the coming of spring. Sometimes my mind races at night and I lie awake, restless, unable to dream.

I think it’s fair to say that many Unitarian Universalists experience a kind of spiritual restlessness in our lives. We tend to grow restless in response to easy answers to our spiritual dilemmas. We tend to grow restless in the presence of creeds that require memorization but no analysis. We tend to grow restless with any religion that binds us too rigidly to the past. We tend to grow restless in any religious context that does not allow us to raise questions.

Restlessness (spiritual or otherwise) can be both physically and emotionally uncomfortable. When we feel restless it often means we need to move, change or flow; to analyze, question or examine; to explore, journey or travel; to mix things up, to shakes things up, to rile things up; to shift, to bend; to rise up, to wake up. When we feel restless it means we need to act in some way to alleviate the feelings of discomfort.

In 2005 the historian Leigh Eric Schmidt published a book about 19th- and early 20th-century liberal religious Americans (including Unitarians and Universalists) who were constantly pushing up against the limits of their received traditions, and constantly expanding the boundaries of what constituted acceptable spiritual practice and identity in the United States. He called the book, “Restless Souls.” It strikes me that restlessness is a wonderful source of innovation in religion and spirituality. Without restlessness to keep us wakeful and seeking to change and move, we grow stale in our spirituality. Our restlessness, if we attend to it, can lead to new beginnings, to freshness, to creativity.

I will elaborate on these ideas in my February 12th sermon, and then again in the February 19th service when we welcome spoken word artist Uni Q Mical into our pulpit. Uni Q is a dynamic, young performer whom I met at an antiracism conference in New York City this past October. She has some thoughts about restlessness and is planning to debut a poem on the subject when she visits UUS:E. Don’t miss her performance on Saturday the 18th at 7:00 p.m. at the Charter Oak Cultural Center in Hartford (presented in partnership with UUS:E!) I am excited. And I am out of my comfort zone in the best possible way!

For now, it’s February. We’re half-way through winter. Now is a time when we can expect ourselves to grow restless. If it happens to you, I pray you can move and change and flow well. I pray you can transform your restlessness into new beginnings, new insights, new perspectives and new creativity.

With love, Rev. Josh

Dear Ones:

We arrive at the holiday season once again—the dark season which is also the time for festivals of light. Welcome to the season!

Those of you who attended the memorial service for Bob Richardson on November 6^th might still have the sounds of the Citadel Band of the Manchester Salvation Army ringing in your ears. It’s rare that we have 25 brass instruments playing in our meeting house! As many of you know, Bob was born and raised in the Sal­vation Army. Though he became a Unitarian Universalist as an adult, he never lost his fondness for the Salva­tion Army’s music. He had the opportunity to reconnect with this part of his past before he died. It was impor­tant to him to have the Citadel Band—the band he once directed—at his memorial service.

Bob’s memorial service (like many of our memorial services) was an affirmation and a celebration of wholeness. We mourned and celebrated his whole life and the many aspects of his identity—his Salvation Army heritage, his military and academic backgrounds, his Unitarian Universalism. It reminded me of the ser­mon I gave years ago when I was the candidate for the minister position at UUS:E. It was very simply titled, “Wholeness.” In it I spoke about the pride I took (and still take) in the modern, science-oriented Humanistic faith of my UU upbringing; and I also spoke about the pride I took (and still take) in my grandmother’s Penn­sylvania Dutch brand of pre-modern, pietistic, rural Christianity. I spoke about being an agnostic with atheistic leanings, yet still having access to my grandmother’s God (who was never quite as angry as she sometimes let on). I said I had struggled as a child and a young adult to figure out which way to go, which spiritual identity to choose. But in the end, I think we can have it all. I think we get to be our whole selves—not partial selves— if that’s what we want. As Rachel Naomi Remen says, “anything good you’ve ever been given is yours for­ever.”

I suppose this lesson is embedded in Christmas. At the core of our American celebration are the ancient pagan symbols and practices—the fir tree and wreathes, the yule log, the traditions of gift-giving, the celebra­tion of light at the darkest time of the year. Then there is the Christian celebration—the story of the birth of Jesus, an angel speaking to shepherds in the fields by night, a message of peace on earth and good will to all. Then there is Santa Claus. Then there is our modern secular celebration, shopping and gift-giving, more lights, Rudolph, Charlie Brown Christmas, and so much more. Layers upon layers, each full of meaning. Just like us.

In this dark season, as we approach the winter solstice and the Christmas holiday, I invite you to con­sider your whole self. What silent pieces of you may be longing for expression? In this dark season, may you find wholeness.

With love,

Rev. Josh

I once read somewhere that it’s best to praise children, not for getting right answers, but for staying fo­cused and working hard.

This idea rings true for me as a statement about ministry and caring for others. So often in ministry, we find ourselves in situations where there are no right answers, but there is still important work to be done.  In the midst of grief, pain and loss, for example, there is often nothing that can be said to alleviate another’s suf­fering. There is often no answer to the question, why me? But the work of staying present and open to the one who is suffering is vital. Even without answers, there is work to be done.

I forget this wisdom sometimes. I fall into the trap of wanting to be the expert when an expert isn’t really needed; wanting to say the perfect thing in a difficult situation, when there’s really nothing that can be said; wanting to solve someone’s problems, when he or she isn’t actually looking for a solution. I fall into this trap sometimes.

Where does this come from, this tendency to forget that sometimes getting the right answer is not im­portant? I suppose it comes from an impulse towards perfection. I suppose it comes from a place of insecurity and wanting to be liked. I suppose it comes from being an adult child of an alcoholic. I suppose it comes from many sources.

Our theme for November is compassion. And while so much discourse on compassion is about how we empathize and sympathize with those around us who are in pain, I’m wondering here about what it means to be compassionate to ourselves. I’m wondering, because this impulse towards perfection, this wanting to be liked, this needing to have the right answer all the time doesn’t feel very compassionate towards myself. When I pause to pay attention to it, it feels rather overbearing and oppressive. And I wonder: if I’m being overbear­ing and oppressive towards myself, am I really able to offer compassion to others? I suspect the answer is “no.” I suspect that my ability to offer compassion outward into the world, is limited by the extent to which I offer compassion to myself.

So, in my initial reflections on compassion, I’m offering myself the following reminders. Perhaps they will be useful to you as well.

1. I want to work hard, but not for the sake of perfection.
2. I want to work hard to be present to life.
3. I want to find and offer the right answers, but only when they’re needed. My presence is often more valuable than my answers.
4. When I can’t find the right answers, I won’t be discouraged. I’ll just say, “I don’t have the answer, but I’m still here, I’m still present.”
5. I want to be kind to others, and therefore I will be kind to myself.

Have a great November!

With love,  Rev. Josh

The 2011 Jewish High Holy Days began on the evening of September 28th with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. They end on October 8th with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. In reference to these “days of awe,” our theological theme for October is atonement.

For Jews the mandate to seek atonement is very clear. In the Book of Leviticus God specifies to Moses that the tenth day of the seventh month shall be a day of atonement: “It shall be a holy convocation for you: you shall deny yourselves and present the Lord’s offering by fire; and you shall do no work during that entire day; for it is a day of atonement, to make atonement on your behalf before the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 23: 27-28).

You likely know what I’m going to write next. Unitarian Universalism, being the modern liberal, religious tradition that it is, does not mandate a practice of atonement for its members. We do not say: “You must admit your wrongdoings and seek forgiveness from those whom you’ve harmed.” There are good reasons for our refusal to make such a mandate. We recognize that in matters of faith and spirituality, at least for
us, mandates are not good motivators. We UUs typically don’t engage in spiritual practices because some authority outside of ourselves tells us to. Rather, we engage when it comes from within. For us, any spiritual practice feels most heartfelt, authentic and honest when the motivation comes from within. This is one of the characteristics I love most about our faith. This is religious and spiritual freedom.

Having said that, we also need to practice atonement. Who among us has not made mistakes? (I can think of two mistakes I’ve made on the day I’m writing this column, and it’s only 11:00 A.M.). Who among us has not caused harm to another human being, either by accident or on purpose? (Ugh. Three today. None on purpose.) Who among us has not failed in some way to live up to our vision of who we want to be? (Today, it’s just not happening.) Who among us has not missed the mark? (Again, not even close today, but there’s still time to turn it around.)

I know this: the act of saying “I’m sorry,” and really meaning it, brings healing and repairs relationships.

And I know this: The act of saying “I accept your apology” or “I forgive you,” and really meaning it, brings healing and repairs relationships.

But I know it’s hard to mean it. I don’t like to admit that I’m wrong or that I’ve made a mistake or that I’ve missed the mark. I especially don’t like to admit that I’ve hurt someone. But the alternative is worse: distance, separation, broken relationships, a failure of intimacy, a failure of trust. We don’t need a mandate to seek atonement. But the lack of a mandate should not be an excuse to avoid it either. Because we
are imperfect, we need to practice atonement.

With love,

Rev. Josh

Dear Ones:

My summer vacation and study leave time are winding down. I am feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I am very much looking forward to a full return to ministry at UUS:E.

This September feels both fraught and full of promise to me. Certainly the 10^th anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon loom large in our cultural vision. We live with the legacy of those attacks. They haunt us. They also inspire us. They remind us of the fragility of life and the hatred and violence that can grow in human hearts. They also remind us of the greatness to which human beings can aspire in spite of life’s fragility, as well as the love and decency human beings can bring to bear in response to hatred and violence.

September feels fraught because our nation seems sick. Our politicians and our people seem as divided and fragmented as ever. I won’t rehearse all the social and economic ills we face, but they feel very prevalent to me. Roger Cohen’s August 14^th New York Times Op Ed, “The Age of Outrage,” seemed to capture this feeling well. August didn’t go the way it normally does, he suggested. There was no time of leisure and relaxation. Instead, “the world speeded up. Stress levels soared. Idle moments evaporated. Egos expanded. Devices became hand-held. Money outpaced politics. Rage surged.” He was talking about the economic crisis in Europe and the London riots, but he might as well have been describing the United States.

Yet, September also feels full of promise to me. If it is true we are in the midst of a national and global sickness, it is also true we have opportunities to engage in acts of healing. If it is true that our politicians and our people are as divided and fragmented as ever, it is also true we have opportunities to respond with love, compassion and decency. Let us not deny the real challenges we face as a nation, but let us also not wallow in anxiety, stress and despair. Let us, instead, aspire to greatness. Let us, instead, discern how we can be loving and decent human beings for the sake of a more just and peaceful world.

On this September 11^th we will use our annual water communion ritual as a way of remembering the attacks ten years ago, as well as looking forward to a more just and peaceful future. On the afternoon of the 11^th I will be participating in an interfaith service at Faith Congregational Church on North Main St. in Hartford to commemorate the 9/11 attacks, to reflect on how our nation has changed over the past ten years, and to ask how we can all help achieve that vision of a more just and peaceful world. I will share more information as it becomes available. I hope you’ll join us at Faith Church for this very important event.

With love,

Rev. Josh

Dear Ones:

Welcome to summer! I am writing this column from Charlotte, N.C. where the Unitarian Universalist Association is holding its 50th General Assembly (GA) and celebrating its 50th anniversary. Happy Birthday UUA! I’m here along with Jo Anne Gillespie, Chris Joyner, and the Rev. Michelle LaGrave representing UUS:E as delegates. It was great to watch Jo Anne and Chris carry the UUS:E banner in the opening ceremony on June 22nd!

At this year’s GA I am very busy. Among other things, I was part of a team that presented a workshop on welcoming transgender people into our congregations and working with transgender organizations on social justice issues. I was so proud to speak in this workshop about my work and the work of many at UUS:E in helping to pass HB 6599, Connecticut’s transgender civil rights bill. It strikes me that so often in social justice work it takes years and years to win on an issue. This year, after half a decade of trying to gain critical protections for transgender people in our state, we won!!! I am proud.

Actually, it’s been a strange year in that regard. Every legislative issue that I and the UUS:E Social Justice Committee and many UUS:E members and friends worked on this year ended in . . . . victory. We won on paid sick days. We won on the state earned income tax credit. We won on in-state tuition rates for children of undocumented immigrants. We won on decriminalizing ossession of marijuana. And we won on Sustinet (mindful there is still a long way to go before we have a functional public health care option in Connecticut). Certainly these victories happened because there were strong coalitions working on all of them. Certainly these victories happened because Democratic Governor Dannel Malloy is more sympathetic to these particular
causes than his Republican predecessors. Certainly UUS:E was not the center-piece of any of these victories. Certainly not all of us at UUS:E agree on all of these issues. But we were involved in many ways, and I am proud to know that we played a role in these social justice victories. We can all be proud.

And now it is summer. I will be on vacation and study leave through to the last week of August. I am available for pastoral emergencies, but other than that you won’t see me around very much. I am looking forward to taking rest, finding renewal and getting ready for an awesome 2011-2012 at UUS:E. I hope you have a wonderful summer as well.

With love,

Rev. Josh