WONDERS STILL
The Spiritual Dimensions of Community

A sermon by James Ishmael Ford

24 March 2002

Today there are incredible tensions between various contending visions of human society, of how we best come together. Some see us bound by ethnic ties, other by religious connections, and still others by economic forces. Today, tribalisms, nationalisms and internationalisms uncomfortably co-exist as radically different and contending views of how humans should organize.

But there are other perspectives, other visions, as well. One is rooted in an understanding of community as a spiritual path to wisdom. I suggest our gathered community of free faith here at the First Unitarian Society in Newton is very much a vision of such possibility--one powerfully transformative for individuals, and for our larger society a constant pointing toward something deep and true.

We are an expression of a profound vision of a spiritual community. Of this I have no doubt. Now at the same time we need to be wary. Religious or spiritual visions of society can be just as dangerous as visions of states. The call of empire, and all that can mean beckons to the unwary.

So we need to be wary, even of our own precious thoughts. But, that said, and the caution noted, I think this way of our free faith can be approached in a different manner than we usually experience religions, much less other forms of community; one that really is a radical perspective on community as a spiritual way.

Often the course of religious impulse is toward that ever larger, converting the heathen, bringing all under the sway of the good God, whomever that good god might or might not be. I’m suggesting something smaller, something more intimate as the necessary vision. I’m suggesting our way of intimacy within Unitarian Universalism is manifested as an engagement of four things: trust, hospitality, neighborliness and service.

These are the elements of an alchemy of the heart, and together may become the hope of society. By our cultivation of a perspective of trust, and the repeated actions of hospitality, neighborliness and service, we discover what intimacy might actually mean, and how human beings might actually live expansively, wisely, and gracefully.

But before I explore these four things in greater detail, I think we need to explore the context that allows them to manifest as spiritual disciplines. So, for instance, a core ingredient that allows this path to be for us, is congregationalism. This is, of course, something we share with people of other spiritual perspectives.

Congregationalism means we acknowledge no spiritual authority beyond our congregations. We belong on a strictly voluntary basis to larger religious groupings, our district and our denomination, for instance. But we here hold the title to our property. And we hire and fire our ministers ourselves. As I’m occasionally reminded. And we raise our own funds and we make our own budgets. We are, in the last analysis beholden to no one beyond these walls.

There is something beautiful, and good, and so of course, also dangerous in this perspective. First, we need to guard against any false sense of autonomy. A pursuit of the ever smaller or more isolated is not what we’re about. Rather this vision sees our spiritual community as part of a larger and dynamic human reality. All boundaries are porous. We may reject higher authority on our spiritual quest, but also we understand we don’t stand alone.

I suggest within the nestings of human relationships, our congregation and those like ours; exist somewhere between family and city. Our possible connections are more tenuous than generally among family. And these connections are stronger than generally is found within a city. Now this is important: in this special gathering we have the opportunity to know each other in ways not generally possible elsewhere. We can know each other intimately.

And a deeply significant part of our path is that way of knowing intimately. I believe the first and seventh principles of our Association’s Principles and Purposes are intuitions of the source for this path of intimacy. Let’s briefly consider how that might be.

The first Principle speaks of the inherent worth and dignity of all people. This doesn’t mean we believe we can’t do evil. We’ve all seen too much ill in the world to fall for any simplistic assertion about our human nature. But that’s not what I see this principle being about.

This holding up of worth and dignity is an assertion of fundamental value within existence. It means, I believe, that as we hope to create a community of value and purpose, we need to start with respect for each other. We cannot begin with discrimination. We start out with an assertion of connection. Everyone, you might say, births into the world as a part of one family.

And if that is so, then we all start out deserving care and attention. The assertion is that whatever may happen down the line, there is something about us at our beginning that is about worth and possibility. As we come to see everyone is in some sense a sister or a brother, then we can begin to find ways to act in regard to each other that are graceful, that are true, that are good. This intuition grounds that trust which allows the rest to happen.

The deep intuition that allows this assertion about individuals being part of one family; is expansively addressed in the seventh Principle. That principle as most here know is framed as respect for the interdependent web of existence of which we all are a part. Here something so deeply true is being said that it is almost a shame it must be said. This is the fiery bush before which we find ourselves stricken with awe. As we hear these words about our essential connectedness we should take off our shoes, cover our heads and shade our eyes.

All words fail the reality. We are all intimately wrapped up within each other, our being, our existence, our living and our dying: all held within this "interdependent web." As we engage life, as we grow older, as our hearts break, as we lose the grip on our certainties, we come to understand this profound truth: we are deeply deeply connected. At least this is what I’ve found to be the case.

Our precious individuality is nothing other than the intercese of the strands of that web that is all and everything. And I believe this is what the wise come to. This is what our practices of presence each of us to the other takes us to. Here the family is revealed; our reality is described, and our path is made clear. Within our respect for each other, and our finding our family connection, we discover a way of liberation.

I really believe out of these intimations of connection and respect we find some directions for our spiritual path. I suggest, as we reflect on what they might be we might discover they will include trust, hospitality, neighborliness and service. Not just these things. But, they count for much, and possibly summarize the larger way. Certainly they rise out of a reflection on respect and interdependence.

Here we find, as Catherine of Sienna once said, "all the way to heaven is heaven." Here, as we come to know these things as the work of our gathering, and as its living reality, we grow deeper, we grow wiser; we grow hope for the world. For the balance of today’s reflection, I want to talk about the First Unitarian Society as a community focused on these things which arise from our respect for the individual and our intimation of deepest connection: trust, hospitality, neighborliness and service.

First trust. One of the versions of Webster’s Dictionary defines trust as an assured resting of the mind on the integrity, veracity, justice, friendship, of another person; confidence; reliance. It is a starting with confidence in the good will of others. So, obviously, to trust is to engage in a dangerous act. Sometimes it might even seem reckless. But, it is a gateway to depth and authenticity, without which, I don’t think we can proceed very far toward any good.

Our willingness to trust each other, to come together, to be together, to struggle and find our meaning within the lives of each other, is something mysterious and powerful. As we take this on, as we embrace trust as a spiritual discipline, I believe we really do open a door, one of possibility, of profound possibility.

The next aspect of our path is hospitality. Returning to Webster’s we find one who is hospitable is one who will receive and entertain strangers without thought of reward. It is the action of kindness. At this stage in my life, after so much living and suffering, I’ve come to suspect kindness is the cardinal virtue. If we can do nothing else, our kindness can be a beacon of light.

But, of course, it can be more. It is a gate to the deep. We manifest our kindness through hospitality; we do this directly when we give a helping hand. And we do this indirectly through the establishment of this Society, through our funding and support of various projects ranging from the ministry and lay ministry, to the care crew to the many projects of our social action committee. This sense of welcoming, of kindness, of care and hospitality is at the heart of our community.

I’ve seen as we’ve faced all these deaths this year, how people have been so willing to step forward giving themselves to help others that I see this principle of hospitality, of kindness, of the generous heart, is alive and well among us. Here is the truth; all the way to heaven is heaven.

And that brings us to neighborliness. The good rabbi was once asked, "who is my neighbor?" His response to that question was the story of the good Samaritan. One thing I’ve often noticed in the telling and retelling of that story is how most people identify with the Samaritan. Certainly such is a good thing.

But as I read the story, I think we sometimes miss that the first person of the story, the "I" of the story is not that Samaritan, but rather the poor guy who was beaten, robbed and left to die. Jesus was suggesting our neighbor, that one who cares enough to reach out a hand might be the despised other. Samaritans were not even acknowledged as real Jews by the Jewish community of that day. They were very much the other. And therein lies an important lesson.

For our purposes here, perhaps the neighbor is both the one in need and the one who unexpectedly gives succor. As a spiritual practice, as a foundation for spiritual community, attention to all facets of this, giving and receiving, self and other, are parts of the mystery, part of the possibility.

For instance, here, as we give so much attention to religious education, to the care for all the children of this community as if they really were our own, in this we discover the true possibilities of neighborliness. Here in our willingness to look over the fence, to see the other as part of us, we find ways through the difficult that I think may shine forth possibility in the world.

So, of course, this is all about service. Our path is all about service. Webster tells us to serve is to work for, to labor in behalf of, to exert one’s self continuously for the benefit of another. And this is where we find the beauty and grace of this path manifesting: we see the other as our own heart.

But this isn’t easy. Now I was talking with Amy LeClair, director of Clairvoix who have graced our service so beautifully today, and said I thought I could allude to the Agincourt carol in this sermon about community as spiritual practice. She didn’t think this was likely, considering the martial spirit of the song.

I admit I’m not much given to military events as metaphors for spiritual endeavor. But, if we hold it lightly, perhaps there is something for us even in the crowing of military success. There is danger in every action, in every word. But at the same time we’re called to action. So, let’s remember the need for reflection within our actions. And with that let’s consider Agincourt.

As we seek that way between family and city, that way which can engender perspective and wisdom in our gatherings of society, we need a certain fearlessness. We need to throw ourselves into the enterprise with our whole bodies and souls. Our way speaks of trust, of hospitality, of neighborliness and of service. These are, if you’ll allow the metaphor, our weapons.

Those and doubt. Our willingness to question ourselves ever as much as others, is the way. Naturally such a way opens us to wounds. But, through that wounding, through that openness to whatever will come, we really can arrive at wisdom. And with that wisdom, hard earned, and scarred, we can be genuinely helpful, for ourselves, for our children, for our world.

And I think that describes in a real way, much of what we do here. So, I’m glad we’ve committed, so many of us, to the struggle. And perhaps there will be a day, maybe this day, which becomes a St Crispian’s day. A day when we can proudly show forth our wounds, the wounds of the heart that we earned on our way to wisdom, to a broader understanding, to a manifestation of kindness, of goodness in the world.

It would be a showing forth of possibility.

And that is a good thing.

Perhaps, in fact, it is the only thing.

Thank you.

And, amen.