We Are Who We Know
--a service for MLK weekend--
Rev. Mark Stringer
First Unitarian Church of Des Moines
1/14/06 & 1/15/06

“Our world is a neighborhood….We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”  --Martin Luther King, Jr.,  March 31, 1968

Readings

Excerpt of “Circles of Self-Encapsulation” by Richard A. Kellaway

 

Stifling life into a series of small overlapping circles successfully circumscribes experience and our capacity to respond.  People, politics, colors, sounds, pleasures, possibilities, tastes and feelings—what all the circles have in common is that everything within them is known, predictable and organized—and therefore, safe.

 

The circle of friends includes persons who tend to share our prejudices and enthusiasms, who will be careful of our sensitivities, whose behavior we can predict and accept.  Sometimes a friend fails to meet our expectations and is pushed out of the circle.  Occasionally someone new passes all our little tests of acceptability and is included in.  The circle expands and contracts with changing circumstances, but the goal remains security and sustenance.  Who wants to be bothered by people we don’t understand, to be challenged by ideas we never knew, to be disturbed by problems we don’t know how to solve, to be upset by situations we have no power to correct, to be excited by experiences we are not sure we can control? … We can learn to say it so simply:  “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

 

It is easier to be safe than alive.  Easier to be safe than aware, feeling, responsive, caring, loving, wondering, hoping, joyful and free. …

 

But I become suspicious about my sacred circles when I am tempted to resent new people, ideas, experiences, perceptions.  If we want them all to go away and leave us alone, we are evading life itself.

 

Paradoxically, the more we seek safety, the more dangers appear, and the more anxious we become.  Only as we dare become open to the unexpected and the unknown do we understand how much greater than safety it is to be free.[1]

 

 

“Projection” by Alice Walker

 

To start

You must divulge

Not a secret

But a thing

Not commonly

Known:

 

That at the back

Of each human’s eyeballs

Resides the image

Of a little child.

 

It is the world

Child

& it sits

There

Gravely, looking

Out

Of

Our

Eyes

Waiting

For us

To

Understand.

 

So tell him this

First of all

Then

When he says

Those Indians

Are remote

Savages, who do not deserve

Their own forest

Tell him:  All the children of the Earth

Are perfect.

 

When he says: Those Germans

& their ovens

Tell him: Like clouds, or grains of sand, all the children of

The Earth

Are perfect.

 

When he says

Those rotten Arabs

& their

Women in

Bedsheets

You tell him:  All the children of the Earth

Are perfect.

 

When he says

Those Chinese

& their

Femicide

You say: Like the feet of Jesus, the eyelashes

Of the Buddha, all the children of the Earth

Are perfect.

 

It is our Life Work

To liberate across the planet

The world child

Who always

Lives

Behind

Our eyeballs

Imprisoned

In the only

Image (our own)

We can

(Sometimes)

See.[2]

 

 

Special Music         "For Good” From Wicked
by Stephen Schwartz          Moria Leu and Barb Martin

 

 

 

Sermon

I ran into a friend this week who I see around town now and then.  This friend and I tend to fall on the same side of things politically and as we are both interested in being active citizens and participating in the political process, we end up seeing each other at community events like the one that had brought us together this day.  After the program we were attending had concluded, I spotted her across the room and began to stroll up beside her to offer my usual greetings.  She was engaged in a heated conversation with another woman, though I was not sure of topic that had them so energized.  I could tell that they were both visibly upset, however, so I inched my way closer so as not to invade their privacy too quickly.  Soon, I realized that they were trading tales of woe about the current political scene… decrying how “stupid” one political viewpoint was, what the “idiots” were doing, and so on.  This is not a new conversation for me…at least not a new one for me to encounter from time to time…particularly these days, it seems, when to be identified as a Democrat or a Republican is to declare yourself not only philosophically opposed to the other side’s general point of view, but downright antagonistic towards it…and towards anyone who holds it.    By the time the two women were ready to acknowledge my presence, both of their faces were flushed with emotion and their voices had reached a certain fevered pitch.  As the woman I didn’t know saw me obviously preparing to bring small talk her way, she made a hasty exit, leaving me alone with my friend.  I said, “How are you doing?”  To which she responded on the exhaled winds of her exasperation, “I just can’t believe what an [insert expletive here] our president is.  I am just so frustrated and angry.” 

 

“How’s that working for you?”  I asked. 

 

“Not so well,” she answered.

 

We laughed. 

 

She then went on to say how her frustration over the past few years had led her to disengage from the activism that had once been her passion, how she has realized that simmering in her anger in isolation has not done much for the causes that meant so much to her, and that she has decided that it is time to get involved once again…painful though the experience might be.

 

After we parted ways, I was thoughtful about our conversation…mostly because I could relate to how my friend was feeling.  And the question I asked her was one I needed to consider.  “How is that working for you?”  How is your rage, or frustration, or need to belittle those who don’t agree with you working?  In the spirit of full disclosure, I admit that I am not above the kind of politically-driven whining and name calling that my friend displayed.   I have spit my share of venom, occasionally even offering descriptive terms for particular political leaders that I wouldn’t dare to repeat from this pulpit.  Of course, I mostly do this ranting in the privacy of my home, or when I know my circle of family or friends share my views.   Since I am confessing, I should also admit that there have been times that, while watching the Daily Show, I have taken great delight at derisively snickering at the missteps of our leaders…particularly when their arrogance or political opportunism is exposed…or when Jon Stewart makes an especially biting observation about how the declared values of the leaders are betrayed by the reality they are helping to create.  It’s fun to be so pseudo-bold, brazenly shouting my frustration or disappointment at the tv, or in the company of a few friends or colleagues.  It has had a way of making me feel better…at least for a moment or two.  And then, of course, it’s just right back to the same old sinking feeling of frustration and helplessness. 

 

Wouldn’t it be great if shaking our head at the paper or shouting at the tv actually did something beyond releasing steam?  Not that releasing steam is all bad, because it certainly is not.  In fact, I recommend it.  If it weren’t for my regular Daily Show fix of satire and humor, I think that my experience of the politics in this country over the past few years would have been far more painful than it has been.  Still, particularly after hearing someone else ranting the way I know I have, and seeing how futile it is, how little it does towards improving understanding between people, I have to question the value of my tendency to over-simplify the perspectives of those who do not share my political views… to quickly identify myself with one party in our two party system…or to assume the inferior character of those on the “other side.”   I have to wonder about my own contributions, relatively quiet though they may be, to the quagmire of political debate in our country, mucked up with well-meaning people dedicated to the sanctimonious certainty of their own positions, and a deep-seated distrust of those who happen to see things differently.

 

Differences of opinion in our country, of course, should be welcomed and explored.  They are an important component in any democracy, for they provide the basis upon which the people can discern the direction that will best suit the common good.  However, my concern is that there are few (if any) venues in which we can safely and respectfully share our differences these days. Even our president orchestrates his “town hall” meetings to be sure there are no voices of dissent present.  My concern is that our nation is getting far too divided into “circles of self-encapsulation” to be able to hear the truth embedded in our differences.  We are taking ourselves far too seriously and getting far too divided to discern what is common among us, much less the common good.

 

This week, I saw part of a Charlie Rose interview with New York Times columnist, David Brooks, a self-proclaimed conservative.  In the interview Brooks claimed that the world is not “flat,” as described by his colleague Thomas Friedman.  The world, he said, is “mountainous”: Particularly in the U.S., he says, we are separated by ever growing valleys and peaks of class, politics, religion…even hope…depending in large part on the region of the country in which we live.  In general terms, his point is that Americans, by and large, continue to limit the diversity of our social circles, rarely getting to know in any meaningful way those outside of our own race, class, and level of education.  Meanwhile most of our churches, which, if the theologies proclaimed within their walls are to be taken seriously, are intended to be great mixing pots of humanity, continue to be, just as Martin Luther King, Jr. described thirty years ago, the most segregated places in our nation…segregated not just by theology, race, and class, but increasingly by politics, too.  King described this fact as tragic.  It still is, don’t you think?

 

Tragic, but not irreversible.  You see, I do have high hopes for the potential that our church has to be more diverse across the lines that so often divide us.  While it may be difficult for us to be more inclusive of those holding more restrictive theological tendencies, the principles and purposes we claim to share are, of course, not limited to one particular race, cultural background or economic class. However, it will take effort from most if not all of us…effort over an extended period of time, for us to open our doors wider…to be the kind of inclusive church home that our faith perspective asks us to be. We need to not just invite others to join us in doing what we’ve always done, though.  We need to intentionally invite others to join us in creating something new…something that reflects not only the sensibilities and cultural realities of those already here, but of those we want to work with, to learn from, and to celebrate life beside. I believe we are up to the challenge, and I look forward to helping us get there. The way to get there is simple really, though not necessarily easy.  We just have to let go of some of the security of our sacred circle… abandoning some safety in exchange for the freedom that comes from opening ourselves to the unexpected and unknown.  We may even have to sacrifice a little like-mindedness.

 

Now I know that “like-minded” is a catchy adjective around here, as in “I was so glad to find a community of like-minded people.”  I’m not opposed in general to like-mindedness…especially if our similarities of thought are based on things like our UU principles which encourage us to be open to perspectives other than our own.  For example, by claiming that we affirm “acceptance of one another…the right of conscience…compassion in human relations” we agree that each individual has the right to set her own course toward the “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” as long as she provides room for others to do the same. 

 

Now, you may run into some in our church who believe that a responsible search could only be one that matches their own, but I humbly suggest to you that these people are not in tune with what the true strength of our free church is: the possibility that we can learn from our differences…that our differences, when shared freely and respectfully, can actually enrich our lives and open us up to understandings that would not be as easily accessible in our isolation.

 

Now here I am admitting my own preference for what makes a responsible search for truth and meaning: engagement with others…engagement that is respectful, intentional, and compassionate.  Of course, there may be other ways to search for meaning, but none have meant as much to me as simply getting to know other people.  I remember when I first re-entered religious community as an adult, the minister and the sermons were important in getting me through the doors initially.  But the people I met were why I kept coming back…people who I probably would not have met otherwise…people who were different from me in age, background, race, and perspective…people who helped me expand my world.  In my mind, meeting other people…sharing in what it means to be human and thereby expanding our understanding of the world…is the purpose of the church because it’s where the holy work occurs.  I believe that we cannot find God if we refuse the possibility of creative interchange with others…if we don’t learn to look past the things that divide us…or at least learn to live through the places where we differ in search of something transformative that we might take from the encounter.   We don’t have to agree with other people; we don’t even have to like other people.  But we do ourselves a disservice…we cheat ourselves from the possible…if we don’t enter into every encounter we have with the expectation that we will learn something…something about ourselves…something about the world…something about what it means to be human. 

 

I’m even talking here about encounters with those people who simply drive us crazy…especially with those people.  Most, if not all, of us have people in our lives who are there, it seems, to push our buttons…particularly our hot buttons of politics and religion. Most of the time we may choose to simply ignore our differences with these people so as not to rock the boat.  And, this may be the best course of action in some circumstances, especially if our only alternative is to fight with them in an attempt to convert them to our version of the truth.  However, these differences of opinion are also places where rich discussions can take place…as long as we monitor our own reactivity and practice not taking ourselves or others so seriously. 

 

In every encounter, we have the opportunity to model the kind of world we want to live in.  A world where compassion is expected, where forgiveness is always possible and where violence is abandonded…not only physical violence…but violence of the spirit caused when we cut ourselves off from others or get more caught up in our own drama and disappointment than in reaching for true creative interchange. I’m not suggesting that we all run out and strike up conversations with the people who most annoy us.  I am, however, suggesting that there may something to be learned from these people and that simply avoiding them keeps us from sharing the gift of our humanity and learning from theirs. When we avoid them, we avoid reality…we avoid the chance to grow our souls…we avoid life.

 

OK, so this is a good time for me to make another confession to you.  This message is difficult for me to share.  It is difficult because it hits so close to home.  It is a message that I need to hear. I need to keep myself open to others…I need to learn the lesson implied in the title I chose: We are who we know.  Like most of you, I have my own patterns of retreat and disengagement.  I have my own sacred circles of self-encapsulation.  I have my own mental list of people to avoid.  So know that I’m not saying that breaking out of these habits is easy.  After all, I basically avoided my evangelical grandparents for a decade…right up until the day they died.  In doing so, I definitely kept myself out of some uncomfortable conversations.  But I also didn’t gain a whole lot either.  I negated their place in my life and kept myself from other gifts (and challenges) getting to know them better might have offered me…and that I might have offered them.

 

I look back on my choices in those relationships, and in others, and I know I didn’t embody the kind of person I want to be.  Now I may not have been able to do anything at the time other than what I did.  The lessons we learn from our choices (both good and bad) sometimes need years of fermentation to become wisdom. However, lately, I’ve been acknowledging how the primary thing I did by essentially cutting myself off from my grandparents was the same thing any of us do whenever we limit our interaction with those around us (or at least those who are not seeking to do us harm)…we limit our possibilities…we limit our experiences of life.

 

There is a story from ancient China that suggests a better approach to interactions with people we find difficult.  A teacher is about to begin tutoring a powerful member of the ruling class…a duke who is known for being hard to deal with if not dangerous.  The teacher is obviously concerned about his ability to handle the pressure of working with this new student.  So, he goes to a wise man to seek guidance, asking him how he might best deal with a man with such a depraved disposition. The wise man hears the teacher’s fears and concerns and then offers a simple response:  “The first thing you must do is not to improve him, but to improve yourself.”[3]

 

The first thing we must do is not to improve the other, but to improve ourselves.

 

From the Jewish tradition, Martin Buber tells a similar story, this time of a student who visits a rabbi asking how he can love his neighbor as himself, when the neighbor has wronged him.  The rabbi explains in words not all that far from our own UU principle of the inherent worth and dignity of all individuals, that all souls are one…each is a spark from the original soul…a soul inherent in all souls. The rabbi goes on to suggest the metaphor that as we are all part of one body of humanity: It may happen that “your hand makes a mistake and hits you.  But would you then take a stick and punish your hand because it lacked understanding, and so increase your pain?  It is the same if your neighbor, who is of one soul with you, wrongs you because he does not understand.  If you punish him, you only hurt yourself.”[4]

 

Indeed, we do punish ourselves by limiting those with whom we have contact because we limit what we can teach and learn from one another.  We are who we know.

 

One more piece of ancient wisdom.  This is from the Tao, which teaches:

 

The wise person is available to all people
and doesn’t reject anyone.

He is ready to use all situations
and doesn’t waste anything.

This is called embodying the light.

 

What is a good man but a bad man’s teacher?

What is a bad man but a good man’s job?

If you don’t understand this, you will get lost,

However intelligent you are.

It is the great secret.[5]

 

I don’t just want to apply this wisdom of the great secret to my own life, and to our church, but to our national psyche.  I think about our country these days and I fear we have gotten lost…so lost…so far from the truth of this “great secret”…that I sometimes fear we may not be able to find our way back.  What will it take for us to learn to engage honestly and openly…to listen to each other…to learn to not storm out when we disagree or to hide in anger or disgust, but rather to hang in there through the tough discussions, bravely and respectfully holding any of the truth we have that may still be worth holding, while letting go of the prejudice and predisposition that keeps us from experiencing the child that Alice Walker (in today’s reading) reminds us is always in front of and behind our eyes…the child that each of us once was and still is…the world child present within each human…the world child, ready and waiting to be liberated at last?  What will it take?  Martin Luther King said, “We have learned to fly the air like birds and swim the sea like fish, but we have not learned the simple art of living together as brothers [and sisters].”

 

The simple art…the great secret…the great hope…they all rest in us and in how we choose to be with each other through this miserable and wonderful life we share. So my hope for you today is the same as the hope I have for myself, the same hope embodied in the life of the man we honor this week:  May we find the strength, the courage, the resilience, the sense of humor, and the forgiveness to choose well in our interactions…to find love enough to cross the borders that divide us not only against each other, but against ourselves.

For we are who we know.