Gil Scott-Heron’s 1970 spoken word poem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” is ultimately a warning against confusing the representation of change with change itself. He also described the revolution as something that takes place in one's consciousness—something cameras cannot capture. The extraordinary thing about the phrase is that it has escaped its original moment and serves as a much broader meditation on how genuine transformation happens. It requires changes in consciousness, changes in relationships and practices, changes in communities and institutions.

Bottom line: transformation requires something from us. What might that be?

In this context I would like to invite you into an ongoing conversation about white supremacy. Let’s begin with a key distinction: In this conversation, white supremacy as a cultural system, is a historically developed pattern of social norms, institutions, and narratives that has privileged people identified as white and treated whiteness as a normative or dominant position, at the same time subordinating or marginalizing people identified with other racial groups. It is not referring to an ideology of individual racial prejudice or as membership in an extremist organization.

White supremacy as a cultural system has institutionally distributed power, resources, status, and credibility based on a racial hierarchy. In the United States, white supremacy has taken both explicit and implicit forms. Explicit forms include slavery, racial terror, mandated segregation, racial exclusion from citizenship, and openly racialized political doctrines. More implicit forms can persist through institutional practices, inherited inequalities, cultural assumptions, and historical narratives even after explicitly racial laws have been abolished.

This distinction matters because saying that white supremacy is a cultural system does not mean that every white person consciously believes in white superiority. The systemic concept concerns patterns of power and cultural norms that can operate independently of an individual's intentions. In this broader sense, the term describes a system of social relationships—not simply individual attitudes. It can operate through laws and institutions, but also through cultural norms, historical narratives and who controls that narrative.

We carry more than we know. We carry each other. We carry trauma and resilience together through our bodies and across generations.
~ Resmaa Menakem, My Grandmother's Hands

Both history and our world today have given us ample evidence that pursuing the values that lead us into Beloved Community and making them real in the world require our steadfast commitment and, even more importantly, our resilience.

Resilience in our capacity to withstand, adapt, and grow in the midst of and after change, especially after harm has occurred.

Resilience personally, when we experience grief, illness, or loss. In our ability to get back up and get going again as we face general, day-to-day soul-deep weariness.

In case you didn’t know, there is a group of Buddhist monks from Texas that are on a Walk for Peace -- a long-distance pilgrimage promoting peace, compassion, and nonviolence. Their route has moved through the southeastern United States, then north through the Carolinas and Virginia before concluding in Washington, D.C..

The monks maintain a meditative walking pace and pause in various communities along the way to engage with local residents and share their message through quiet presence and peaceful interaction rather than political messaging. They have been handing out bracelets to those they encounter, a Buddhist symbol of protection and blessings.

The walk has been positively received in various communities, with local news outlets and social media users highlighting the unique sight of the group traveling on foot in traditional robes. Wherever these monks arrive across different states and locations, they are welcomed by thousands of people, regardless of religion, race, or gender. Along the way, the monks speak to those who welcome them, conveying teachings resonant with the Buddha’s message:

“The world is one family. We must stand together in unity.
We must cultivate loving kindness, contentment, and compassion for others.”

In essence, the monks are embodying peace by walking it, hoping to ignite that same sense of peace in others, one step and one interaction at a time.

What practices help you stay awake — emotionally, spiritually, morally — when the world feels chaotic or absurd?
~ Rev. Cameron Trimble

There is a card on my desk at home that reads, “Be grateful to everyone.”

It is a beautiful message in the freshness of a new day. It supports my deepest beliefs and commitments in the world, which is why I placed the card there to begin with.

On most days it is an object on my desk like any other, sitting amid a vase of dried flowers, a jar of pencils and pens, a small clock, a piece of raku-styled pottery, my daily planner, a few books.

And there are admittedly moments, especially as the day has progressed, when this simple message touches into my frustrations and fears about actions taken by those near to me, by people I am clear that I love, and definitely by those way far off whose actions unravel into the day, threatening lives almost everywhere to our very foundations.

What if within this pivotal moment in human history, there was an extraordinary opportunity just waiting for you to claim it? One where you can awaken your true power and become an agent of positive change.

It all starts with little steps, like awareness, daily choices. If we are only paying attention to outer things (CNN, Facebook, Netflix, busy schedules and To Do lists), then what are we not present to? Our attention is one of our most precious resources.

Life is a busy journey, with our attention being pulled in many different directions, often at the same time. There are external distractions, full schedules, and also internal distractions. Even briefly, stepping off the carousel of daily routines can be a rich resource to access our inner strength and wisdom.

In college I created a self-directed course focused on visiting different spiritual communities. One site was at a Zen temple. First, you left your shoes at the door, a symbol of leaving the ordinary world behind. There were three parts of the meditation experience: Silence. Sitting. Walking. On occasion there would be a short discourse, but mostly there were long periods of sitting.

An optional element offered during sitting, was to gesture that you wanted to be “focused.” This involved being struck from behind on the back of the shoulder firmly with a bamboo stick. In the formal Zen tradition, the master would use the stick on aspirants--to get the attention of one whose mind was drifting or falling asleep; or to strike at the very instant the student was on the precipice of awakening in order to prompt “satori” or instant enlightenment.

Have you ever wondered, “What the _______ is happening in the world right now?”

If all of this, just the way it is unfolding, were written into a draft of a movie script, it would be rejected as being implausible. That could never happen. Yet, here we are, living in the middle of this chaotic movie, wondering who gave the greenlight to this mess?

There are impulses to fight, resist, and push back against the forces of tyranny and the tide of inequity. There are a range of emotions that can leave us feeling distraught or overwhelmed. Sometimes there is even a need to retreat for self-preservation (mentally, emotionally, physically), and step away from the barrage of news and hate. “I just need a break.” It can also leave us searching for ways to cope with the internal stress of it all, both our own personal challenges along with the tidal waves of inequity crashing down on our country and world.

Joanna Macy writes,
This is a dark time, filled with suffering and uncertainty. Like living cells in a larger body, it is natural that we feel the trauma of our world.
So don’t be afraid of the anguish you feel, or the anger or fear, because these responses arise from the depth of your caring and truth of your interconnectedness with all beings.
Compassion is what impels you to act for the sake of the larger whole—or put more accurately, it is the whole acting through you.

Joanna Macy was an eco-philosopher, Buddhist scholar, and activist, who taught that compassion and interconnection are the core elements for surviving and transforming the world's ecological and social crises. Her work emphasizes that suffering in the face of these crises is not a sign of weakness, but a natural, healthy indication of our deep, interconnected relationship with all life.

“I’m not waiting for anything to be different to live

Every day, I lift weights heavier than my heart so I can say hello my name is ready to whatever comes my way.

Break my spirit and I’ll have two spirits break my spirit again and I’ll have four.”

• From Never wait to live by Andrea Gibson (full text and reading at the end)

13 - Practice corporeal politics. Power wants your body softening in your chair and your emotions dissipating on the screen. Get outside. Put your body in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. Make new friends and march with them.~ Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons From the Twentieth Century.

grief by toni blackman

make your grief earn its place
don't allow it to take up space without
gifting you something
your existence, your presence a present
be present
make sure your grief is worth the pain

Spirit that invites upon me
Love and deep peace,

I pray for the numbers that are
Ever on my mind
Ever in my dreams
Numbers imprinted in walls
Symbols painted on the foreheads of colleagues
And tumbling from the utterances
Of those speaking in tongues.

I pray for my dear associates
Working late into the night
Tapping on keyboards
Confirming results across
Cell lines and
Internet fiber
Then checking yet again
Until finally saying,
Thank you.
It is done for now
We need to sleep.

And then the dreaming.

Or the not sleeping
And not dreaming
But incessant thinking
What else do we need to address
In this?
Who is missing
from this?

In the turn of seasons at the Equinox, we welcome the new life of spring, a time of new beginnings, hope and promise. Yet, these are very uncertain times of change with all that is going on in the world right now—the shifting sands of politics, fear, greed, chaos, and confusion. In the face of change, whether invited or not, there is an opportunity to reflect on what sustains and nourishes us, both individually and collectively.

I invite you to imagine for a moment being on campus at the Fellowship. Maybe you are there for a service on Sunday or a meeting during the week. What do you notice? What do you experience, wherever you go to share coffee/conversation, sing, pray, laugh, and listen?

In the noticing of little details, remember that every single thing at the Fellowship is made possible by acts of generosity. This place, on a physical level, was built by and is sustained by gifts of generosity. This place, as a community, is all made possible by, and sustained by, your gifts: our ability to gather together, in large and small groups; our capacity to learn and grow; and our justice actions and compassionate care. Every aspect of our shared ministry together, is made possible by acts of generosity:
• The giving of time, energy and commitment
• The sharing of talent, creativity and imagination
• The offering of treasure, tangible pledges and gifts to support the organization at all levels.

So together we create this—we choose, we take action, we own the responsibility to make this a place of welcoming and belonging in beloved community. And, in these times, we are invited to imagine what might be possible for us to create COLLECTIVELY from our hearts.

This comes back to the question of what sustains us? On the practical level we are planting with our pledges and gifts to grow what is possible for the congregation. And yes, on one level, this sustains us and allows us to live into the mission. But there is another gift that sustains this fellowship, and in some ways it is the most important gift of all: your presence. On Sundays, in-person or online. Or your presence in a classroom, covenant group, or service. Your presence teaching RE, singing in the choir, making coffee for Fellowship Hour, tending to the gardens, serving as visitor hosts, greeters, Care team, card writers, or Board members. Your presence, your participation, in so many different ways, is what creates and SUSTAINS this community.

What stories do we build about our life?

I am very aware of this question as we move into a new presidential administration in the United States.

Why? I note in myself fears and anxieties about what may come. Fears and anxieties that often connect to the possibility that my rights and the rights of those I care about may erode or be taken away. Are those fears unfounded? It remains to be seen.

It would be easy for me to build a story about life in this moment that only holds that fear, a fear right now connected to promises (and/or threats) rather than concrete realities. In ways, that can make the fear even worse. Sometimes it is easier to prepare for something when you know it will happen. And right now, it’s easy to build the stories that seem terrifying and larger than life.

And…

Early January is a time for new beginnings, which often involves looking back on the past year and setting goals for the new year. On this threshold of looking back and forward at the same time, there is an opportunity for reflection. The Story of Now. What led us to this moment, this Now? What gifts did we gather along the way?
What challenges did we face and how did we grow from them?
What is wanting to be created, now?

To explore these questions, here’s a simple reflection template to use for preparing to craft the Story of Now: 5 4 3 2 1
It is a way to explore your own story, to discover what you are paying attention to, and what you wish to create.

For your own spiritual journey, what are:

5 key moments that impacted who you are now?
These may crossroads, milestones, challenges or discoveries.

In my own life, one key moment was moving to Durham in 1989. I wondered what my life would have been like IF I had not made this choice. All the people I never would have met, experiences, highs and lows, all would have been somewhere else, the hypothetical road not taken. It fills me with a sense of deep appreciation for my past self in making the decision to move here to a town that has transformed in the past 30+ years.

I hope the end of 2024 and the start of this new year have been meaningful for you, no matter how you’ve spent them thus far. I hope your chin is up, your face is determinedly toward the chill, and the wind, or rain, because that’s how it is in many places. And that you remember, most importantly, that you are not alone. We are here together, facing whatever comes personally and collectively. You have community; it is beloved, and so are you. Don’t forget that in this moment and in all the moments ahead when it might be quite easy to do so. Chin up. You can do it. WE are doing it.

As we move deeper into this time of anxiousness, stress, and fear, may we embrace the shift of daylight to a cocoon of more dark, where there might be repair in the place where seeds grow.

We must believe we are worthy of rest. We don’t have to earn it. It is our birthright. It is one of our most ancient and primal needs.
~ Tricia Hersey, Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto

Each year, I reach this point in time with one most significant thing on top of my mind: rest. I need rest from this vineyard I enjoy laboring in, rest from this work of my heart and soul, rest from this calling that I awaken to each morning with gratitude that I get to respond.

How can that be when I love it so much?

As if it were a blinking caution sign, while in seminary I’d read in the book Rest: Why You Get More Done When You Work Less that the term workaholic (which I confess to having been from way back) was first coined in a study of ministers. Aha! I thought. I must be on the right path!

However, now that I am indeed a minister, year after year, again and again, the great lesson I keep learning is that to be present for and to do what I love so much, I must rest to be fortified, to continue the journey, to love and to serve well.

I will let you in on a (not-so-secret) secret.

Unitarian Universalists are not the only folk who hold pluralistic and non-conforming beliefs!  For some of us, this is not news.  But for myself, around the year 2007 living in Missouri, it was a great surprise to meet a Christian who was becoming a minister and didn’t believe hell existed.  He even said most of his friends who were becoming Christian ministers also didn’t believe in hell.  My mind was blown.

Around the same time, I was speaking with a teaching colleague (I was still an elementary school teacher at this time) who talked about her attendance at a Christian church, but privately to me also said she was completely an atheist.  However, she had developed such deep community at her Christian church, it felt like home, even if her theology did not actually match the congregation.

For some of you this may be news.  For others, you already know this lived theological pluralism and expansiveness to be all around us throughout life.

Now, pluralism is an important aspect of Unitarian Universalism.  It’s found in the principles and sources which make up the current article 2 of the UUA bylaws, and it’s also found in the proposed article 2 revision.  It’s an important aspect of many popular readings and sayings that come up in our tradition.  But I would argue that just having pluralism is not something that makes Unitarian Universalism unique or noteworthy.

After witnessing the hottest year on record, the impact of the current climate crisis is very present. The litany of impending challenges is long, from rising sea levels and deforestation to food insecurity and extreme weather events. How do we make sense of this? Climate change is a multifaceted issue encompassing various sciences, politics, economics, history, and spirituality. Environmental racism and justice are intertwined within all of it. The climate crisis presents a global challenge, posing significant obstacles to vulnerable communities worldwide. It disproportionately affects low-income countries and communities, indigenous populations, and other marginalized groups.

On the surface, the problem seems to be climate change and its impacts. But, this may be symptomatic of a deeper issue. Our relationship with the Earth is fundamentally out of balance. In his book Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet, Thich Nhat Hanh writes:

"When you wake up and see that the Earth is not just the environment, the Earth is us, you touch the nature of interbeing. At that moment you can have real communication with the Earth…We have to wake up together. And if we wake up together, then we have a chance. Our way of living our life and planning our future has led us into this situation. And now, we need to look deeply to find a way out, not only as individuals but as a collective, a species."

The way out he offers is a thoughtful process of engaging with mindfulness practice as part of social activism to restore our relationship with the Earth and each other. Mindfulness as action guides our choices, deepens our understanding, and opens new possibilities for creating a more sustainable future.

When faced with intractable nature of these environmental justice/climate crisis issues, how do we deepen our understanding of justice? What do we do with despair about the planetary future?

So, I was taken by surprise by the eclipse. I wasn’t surprised it was happening of course. So many people were talking about it! It was a source of constant conversation. But I was surprised how awestruck I was by the event.

Even without looking directly at the eclipse (as I had no eclipse glasses), it was fascinating to notice how everything around me looked the same, yet different in a way that was hard to describe. In one way, it looked like a normal sunny day, but in another, the light kept decreasing and dimming.

What increased my awe was contemplating on the series of effects that had to come together for the eclipse to happen. After all, there are so few times that the orbital paths of the moon and the earth come together in the correct placement to make an eclipse possible. But I realized part of what made this event seem so awe-inspiring to me is that I could more simply see and grasp the interdependent events that had to come together to make the eclipse happen. It’s just two orbital paths interacting in a predictable, though uncommon, way. Predictable enough that scientists can…well, predict it in advance! I wonder if the predictability and simplicity made it easier for me to appreciate because it was easier to contemplate the interdependent steps to make the event occur.

What becomes even more awe inspiring though, is realizing how interdependent everything is around us. Every natural event is a product of many smaller aspects coming together over time. (And truly, the eclipse is not so simple! What were the exact minute details that had to come together to create the Earth and the moon? What small factors caused their orbits to be what they are?)

In coming together as community, we also have awe-inspiring events. For instance, what are the small events that lead to your friendship with someone else? What events had to come together for you to relate to and care for this person you are in relationship with? You could consider events that caused you to meet, events from the time you both were born, or even events that led to their birth. Any and all of these might be important!

Have you ever been lost, and can’t find where you are going? I’ve been lost many times: In a country where I didn’t speak the language. In a big city where all the streets seem to be one way. What do you do is this situation? Ask for directions? Seek assistance? Check the map? Retrace your steps?

It is frustrating to know, and not know, at the same time, where you are, and how to get to where you want to go. “It’s the journey, not the destination,” they say. Well, maybe. But when you are lost, those words don’t seem helpful.

On a spiritual journey, feeling lost, entering the unknown, and seeking guidance, is how it works. Living life as a sacred journey is an invitation to open our eyes, hearts, and minds in new ways. It is a call to both outward practice and inner reflection. It is an opportunity to step out of comfort zones, let go of old patterns, and engage new insights. It asks us, again and again, to embrace the gift of change.

Along with every part of the outer journey, there is also an inner component—a feeling, a learning, a prompting to pay attention, go deeper, and live into a growing edge. This can be an uncomfortable place, to meet a part of oneself that is resistant to change, resistant to acknowledge or face something difficult.

At the recent ERUUF spiritual practices retreat, we explored resources to cultivate resilience in difficult times. To begin, we were all invited to identify a challenge we were facing, creatively express/write it with colorful paper and markers, then place it in a large bowl next to the central chalice. This represented a collective ritual to honor our own journey, and also hold it with each other in community, as we entered a day of practice—meditation, breath, creative expression, sharing, movement, and singing.

I am conscious of the bloom and blossoming of spring, the time when we begin to plant seeds in gardens and also for our next program year, 2024 - 2025 -- as our current program year soon comes to a close in June.

I am also very conscious that we are blessed with the vision and privilege of co-creating a Fellowship that often feels like a joyful and peaceful haven, not only for us, but for many in surrounding communities, providing a place of respite and hope when the world beyond us can feel much less so.

At this time when we are witness to new life blooming in nature, we here at ERUUF are in pledge season and also budget season, imagining and reflecting upon what we would like to see grow.

First, in the seeds of the budget that we plant and nurture for the coming year, we have the opportunity to be imaginative and creative, just as ERUUFians decades before us were. These seeds allow us to envision courageously how we might contribute, not to ourselves alone, but also to the people and world beyond us.

Budgets reflect our values, and our pledges do as well. They’re tangible indicators of how we have decided to focus our energy, individually and collectively.

Budgets reflect our values, and they sometimes also reveal inequities.

This past year the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) asked all congregations to view staff compensation through an equity lens, and also incorporate cost of living recommendations. While ERUUF has a long-standing commitment to fair compensation, with recent revisions to the UUA salary equity guidelines, the gap between our present personnel budget and where we need to be is quite large.

In September of 2020, my mother’s chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) had worsened to the point that it was suggested she enter hospice care. She was living in Missouri in the home she had lived in for 38 years. I was living in California and working as a hospice chaplain. The next day, she had a fall at home. The hospice told me it was important to get there quickly and help make some choices. While the fall was not as bad as they had anticipated, they were right. My mother was entering a new stage of her disease and needed my support as she did. Over the course of the next month, she would decline quickly, entering an assisted living and after a couple of weeks going into a deep sleep followed by her eventual passing.

I remember in the beginning of that process (and really at so many points throughout) thinking “This is too much. What next?” For as you know, we were in the middle of isolating due to COVID-19. I was hopping on a plane and flying halfway across the country to figure out something I had never had to do before.

I think back to that time and realize a large part of what got me through was my spiritual community. I remember reaching out to a friend of mine who was also a hospice chaplain who gave me words of friendship, and also words of soothing. I checked in with the ministers I had connected with to wrestle with the meaning of everything challenging that was colliding at that time. And I remember the group chat I had with some of my Unitarian Universalist minister friends. Some days we were struggling with isolation. Some days we were talking about the health care challenges with my mother and our other family members. Some days we shared pictures of the orange sky due to the fires in California. We held those challenges together, the sorrow, the pain. But some days, we would get on a voice chat and, from our separate houses play a rousing game of Mario Kart, water flowers on each other’s Animal Crossing islands, or even get on a video chat and try to put together the most ridiculous outfits we could find.

One of the places where community is most important is in the midst of the challenge regardless of if that struggle is personal, systemic, or even a large-scale crisis. Sometimes that is in holding the sorrow and remembering that we are not alone. Sometimes it is in the lamentation. And sometimes it is in the rich ground of resilience that we water with our joy and gratitude. While I hope that ERUUF is a place you come with your celebration, robust and lively, I hope that we also can be a place for soothing and comfort in the midst of times of challenge. And that as you are here for some time, you become part of that network of love that can both support and be supported by others as you need and as you can offer.

For more information on community and support opportunities:

This past Sunday, my sermon was on how building deep relationships might help us create a world that works for everyone.  There was one part I did not get to in that sermon.  I would love to share it with you here.

A few years ago, I started hearing the phrase “cultural humility” especially in relationship to the term “cultural competency”.  For those unfamiliar with these terms, I’ll offer my own understanding of them.  Cultural competency is the idea that we should understand someone else’s culture so that we might interact with them respectfully.  Cultural humility is realizing that we don’t know everything about someone else’s culture and experience, we are open to listening and understanding, and we work to be aware of our own experience and bias so we might better understand what are the experiences and stories we don’t understand.

Cultural competency is not a bad thing.  At it’s best, it can be the attempt to make a space more welcoming for people by understanding their experiences and practices.  But, cultural competency can also give the illusion that we have figured everything out and no longer need to learn beyond the experiences we currently understand.

I know that I do not know everything about anything!

To me, cultural humility is necessary if our aim is to build relationships and community.  We need to be ready to listen and learn about a person’s experiences while building relationships and communities.  We need to be open to understanding and know that we will find opportunities to grow.  In my opinion, cultural humility helps us remember that a person has identities that may impact how they experience life while also being an individual human being with their own opinions, thoughts, and feelings.

This February our monthly Soul Matters theme is Justice & Equity. You’ll hear about it in Sunday sermons, small group ministry discussions, in the Religious Exploration classes for our children, and also in a Soulful Home packet for our families as parents and caregivers serve as the primary religious educators for their children.

While justice and equity are never too far from my thoughts and considerations, I find it compelling to reflect closely upon topics like this over a sustained period through a prism that contains multiple views. Though tempting, the purpose of exploring justice, equity, and other topics together is not meant for the accumulation of information. The goal is to explore and reflect upon what we’ve learned and then expand this process beyond the mere acquisition of knowledge to bring our learning into practice within our lives.

We might not initially experience our learning and exploration with heart-centered meaning. But we can challenge ourselves to notice when we might use what we’ve learned as an opportunity to address specific situations that arise.

I and others on staff -- specifically our Music Director Wendy Looker and the other ministers, have become aware of an opportunity to put our exploration and learning about justice and equity into practice as we address an issue of injustice that we, the good people of ERUUF that we all are, have been unconsciously complicit in.

We’ve learned that “Go Now In Peace,” hymn #413 in our gray hymnal, and the beloved song that we sing to our children as they depart the sanctuary for their classes on Sunday mornings, has been sung in a manner that hasn’t complied with the explicit wishes of the songwriter, Natalie Sleeth, a well-known American composer of choral music and hymns.

Often as a year comes to a close, we exhale with relief, glad that we’ve made it through, especially when we’ve experienced difficult times. And it seems we’ve collectively, globally, experienced a slew of those times these past several years. But even when experiences have been pretty okay, we are happy to turn the page from another chapter of being in the world and with great hope, we set our sights on possibilities of what might be even better ahead.

As we came upon the threshold of 2024 the energies a lot of us seemed to carry felt a bit different though. Despite a month of end of year rituals and celebrations, it seemed as though we were closing our eyes, holding our collective breath, then tentatively crossing an illusory threshold into 2024.

If it was not about ourselves directly, in the understanding of our interdependence it seemed as if we were carrying a dreaded anticipation about what might be in store for someone on the other side of the world, or perhaps for Earth, Gaia, Yemaya -- the Great Creator Mother herself.

Or maybe it was about someone right here where we are. Or maybe it was because something beyond here impacted someone we know and so of course certainly us, because we are, after all, interconnected. And if nothing else, 2020 made plain to us that we cannot avoid our interconnections, in ways we don’t always consciously consider until connections become lost, broken.

About a week ago I was glad to join with the other ministers at ERUUF to hold open a retreat space for folks to slow down, to create a renewed energy together through reflection, re-connection with the elements, the earth, and one another, and to set intentions for 2024.

December is a unique time of year that features a variety of holiday celebrations. It’s not surprising that stories surround the whole season. In movies, books and songs, the end of the year is full of stories about the true meaning of living and giving. Then there are also the life stories we share with family and friends, recalling the past year, looking forward to the next, and if we can pause in all the busyness, appreciating the gift of the present. Stories, both personal and cultural, allow us to understand our place in the world, and make meaning about how and why things happen.

Stories are also gifts, in a way, that can reveal something about ourselves, if we are open to them. Storytelling is a universal language that transcends borders, languages, and generations. It’s a thread that connects us all, reminding us of our shared humanity. Sharing our story can create a bridge that creates a sense of belonging, of being wanted, needed, and heard. Stories connect us.

Youth Poet Laureate Rimel Kamran writes:

The power of story rests in the heart of vulnerability and community.
Each individual bears a story, aching to be heard and to be recognized.
Stories are powerful because they foster connection and
plant the seeds for community to blossom.
Our own stories and the stories of others are windows to recognizing
how humanity is both broken and imperfect,
but through taking the time to engage in conversation with one another and
by listening to each other’s voices and calls for justice,
we can mend humanity’s wounds and create something beautiful.

Stories can be a catalyst for change, growth, and healing. Stories from our life journey allow a greater sense of understanding and appreciation of one other.

This week's blog post features Rev. Jacqueline's reflection as a video excerpt from the Jazz for the Holidays vespers service.

Grief can move in unexpected ways, often rising up seemingly out of nowhere, reminding us of pain and loss. However, even while being unpredictable and individual, one aspect of the grief experience that is more common than not is the challenge of anniversaries.  These might be the anniversary of the day of death, birthdays, marriage, or any event that was significant in your life.  These days can often bring back feelings we thought we had worked through, as we are reminded of an event that connects to our loss.

I post about grief and anniversaries this month because we are currently in the season of the year that contains extra anniversaries.  In the months from November through February, there are many holidays.  Those holidays may be times that you gathered with cherished family or spent time with a beloved who is no longer in your life.  That loss may be due to death, but it may also be because of separation, divorce, or anything that has changed the structure of your life.  Additionally, these are often the coldest and darkest months of the year which for some will exacerbate these challenging feelings.

What to do if you are feeling these challenges?

First of all, honor that this is an experience you are having.  If you are feeling grief, there is a reason why.  While the feelings may be uncomfortable or undesirable, it can be good to let yourself feel them.  For some, it can be helpful to have a therapist or mental health professional on that journey with us.  And if something comes up that you weren’t expecting, you can reach out to our ministry team at or check in with volunteers at the Pastoral Care table after service who can provide a listening ear or help connect you with someone who can.

Second, do things that are supportive and good for your emotional health.  Give yourself lots of compassion.  You may find that you can’t follow through on how you usually engage a holiday.  That’s okay.  It’s good to not avoid or cancel the holiday, but you may want to see if you can find a different way to engage it.  Be realistic about what you can do.  If your body has been still for a long time, take a walk or do something physical to shift your energy in a different way.  Avoid relying on chemicals such as alcohol to circumvent or numb pain as they can often have complicating side effects that can make grief feel worse.  And connect with others who love and care about you as much as you can.  Spend time in supportive environments whenever possible. If you need a place to be, our Sunday services, Jazz Vespers, and Winter Solstice Gathering are all opportunities to be present with others.

Long before the coming of Christianity, with which this time of year has been inextricably linked, people all over the world celebrated the rising of the Midwinter sun and the birth of the gods who held out to them the promise of a New Year with new hopes…. most often with fire -- a symbol of hope -- and with boughs of greenery that symbolized the eternal circle of creation.
~ John Matthews

In most of our UU congregations, the month of December is filled with festivities, rituals, traditions, and joyous celebrations of winter holidays, many of which seem to mirror the culture beyond our walls in its focus upon Christianity. Which is disconcerting for some UUs.

People often join our congregations because we hold space for a plurality of beliefs, which allows for seekers, explorers, interfaith couples, and freethinkers, to gather in Beloved Community. We do so with those who aspire to live out certain principles and values, while welcoming a variety of spiritual traditions which hold love at the center.

So for those who did not grow up with Christian traditions or who do not profess Christian or theistic beliefs of any sort, it’s no surprise that December in a UU congregation might bring forward feelings like, “What’s up with all the focus on Christianity? I thought this was a pluralistic community?”

I was surprised when I heard some express that December especially, with its emphasis on Christian celebrations, caused them to question whether we are living into our pluralistic intentions. While others, I’ve learned, have wondered if it is better to not attend at all on Sunday mornings during the month of December.

Years ago I was leading a workshop in Maine and offered an exercise in forest bathing. The immediate group response was, “Yes, I like to walk in the woods.” The idea was familiar, but not necessarily as a mindfulness practice. Forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, is a Japanese form of nature therapy that originated in the early 1980s. The word, “bathing,” refers to the idea of absorbing the experience using all the senses. Forest bathing aims to bring healing through connection to nature and trees. It is not the same as going for a hike, listening to a podcast, and getting in your steps for the day.

Forest bathing is a mindfulness practice for any level of physical fitness and in any location where there are trees. Scientific studies have shown it can be quite powerful, enhance well-being, and reduce stress.

If you would like to try this practice, find a peaceful place to walk outside with trees. Pause, and bring awareness to all your senses. Set an intention to listen, feel, see, taste, touch, sense, and allow. Walk slowly. Pause from time to time to sit, be still, or connect with a tree. The practice of forest bathing is more about being/allowing than doing/directing. When your mindfulness walk is complete, take a few moments to reflect on your experience. Trees have much to teach and share, if we are paying attention.

In Utah there is a forest of forty-eight thousand aspen trees. The oldest aspen is fourteen thousand years old. How have trees like these aspens survived cold winters, drought, and insect attacks for so many years? Originally, it was thought to be survival of the fittest in outcompeting other trees for sunlight, water, and nutrients. New research shows that trees have learned how to cooperate and communicate through an underground fungal network or through scent signals the air. They ask for help, respond to distress signals, and share nutrients with other trees because this is how they survive—together. These aspens have survived because they recognize they belong to one another. This is not simply a collection of trees—it’s a community. Every tree belongs to the forest/community by having a place to stand within it.

Just like a tree is part of a forest, we are part of different communities—an intricate network of people who rely on one another to survive and flourish. And as one global human family on this Earth journey, our collective survival—much like a tree depends on its forest—is determined by our ability to connect and cooperate, share and care.

In years past a Thanksgiving meal has occurred in ERUUF’s Fellowship Hall, organized and led by members of the congregation. A small fund was made available for the purchase of two turkeys and a few side dishes, while volunteers contributed others. Staff set up tables and located the supply of decorations, tablecloths and other items that members used for the creation of what many remember as a beautiful communal event.

While members also serve the hungry and those in need of food in Durham during this holiday season, the meal at ERUUF has typically been for those within our congregation who might otherwise spend the day alone if not for this time with others in Beloved Community.

A small and eager group of congregants volunteered this year to help out with ERUUF’s Thanksgiving meal, however the group has been without someone to lead and coordinate the logistics of planning for a meal which might easily attract 30 or 50 or even 70 participants. Obviously, this is no small task, as any of us who has done such a thing for a group as small as eight people can attest!

As a result, Thanksgiving this year at ERUUF will unfortunately be cancelled. Unless….

My sermon last week spoke about the intersection of abundance and community – that abundance is best realized when we are in community, understanding and willing to admit when we are in need and our willingness to help when we can.

Have you seen those mini-libraries on the side of the road? They often have books in them and the concept is that you can take a book if one looks good, but also you can leave a book if you have one to donate.

I sometimes think of generosity the same way. Especially when I give something of myself and someone responds "I owe you one" or "I'll pay you back soon." I figure I did something generous for that person and there's no expectation that they reciprocate to me personally. But, I do have the hope that at some moment, when that person has a chance to be generous and they can do so, they take that chance. It's like the mini-libraries: when you need generosity, accept it. When you have a chance to offer generosity and you can do so, do it.

The difference between the mini-book library and the giving of our generosity is relationship. When we place a book into a mini library, we put whatever we have to give hoping that someone will find it useful. When we offer generosity as opportunities arrive, we have the chance to more deeply understand what someone actually needs and make an offer of support based in that need. This is sometimes called the “Platinum Rule” as opposed to the “Golden Rule”: instead of “treat others as you’d like to be treated” it’s “treat others as they would like to be treated.”

This is a more complicated way to give! It requires that you know an institution or an individual well enough to have some idea of what would be useful. Sometimes it requires more conversation and thought.

But sometimes it is more simple too. If we live into the relationships around us, we will find opportunities to give are often right in front of us. And if we would like to give more, that can be an invitation to build new relationships.

We give because somebody gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.

We give because giving changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.
~ Alberto Ríos

On early mornings when I was in seminary in Chicago, I’d go to a Starbucks on Michigan Avenue for my morning venti coffee with almond milk, enough coffee to wake me up and keep me awake for a day of classes, often in a large windowless room. Invariably as I left the coffee shop I’d run into many unhoused men who’d been required to leave the shelter for the day, as they tried to figure out how to occupy themselves, get some food, find a warm spot, get some money, get a hustle, get some dignity, get some…. It is a common occurrence among shelters for the unhoused all over the place that people are required to leave the shelter space each morning, and sometimes only allowed re-entry at day’s end for dinner, perhaps a shower, and for sleep.

Their presence was so commonplace that I’d admittedly walk by, preoccupied as I hurried to class. Some of the men sat down on the sidewalk along the curb on Michigan Ave holding their hands out for money, or merely sat and waited until someone handed them some food or drink or money. Nothing needed to be said as it was obvious why they were there on the curb on one of the wealthiest avenues in one of the most famous cities in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. I walked by, preoccupied – though I noticed more than I dared admit.

One day during lunchtime, as I headed out to figure out what I wanted to eat, I noticed an older classmate, she was in her 70’s, who was walking about a third of the way ahead of me. I started to hurry forward to join her, until my attention was caught by something she was doing. She’d walk toward one of the men on the curb and seemed to extend her arm out in a gesture toward them. She’d walk toward another and another, sometimes saying a few words, but always making that gesture. As I moved in closer I realized that her gesture was to hand them money, but she did it in a way that seemed so relational as she smiled and spoke to almost each one she encountered. She was a retired judge and among our class cohort, she had a reputation for being pretty crotchety. And yet here she was so tender, so gracious, so generous. I followed her for a while, wondering if or when she would stop giving as she did. I never discovered the answer as I eventually realized I needed to get lunch before it was time to return to class. Fill my hungry belly. The irony did not escape me. I was deeply moved as I saw this woman with new eyes, as well as the men she encountered and treated with generous dignity.

In this past Sunday’s sermon, I shared just a bit about my journey in hopes that it can encourage each of you to reflect on your own spiritual journey with the power of three:

Three people that have shaped your life.

Three key experiences on your spiritual journey.

Three practices that feed your spirit.

This invitation includes a nudging to write down some of your own stories. The value in writing, even for yourself, is well documented as therapeutic, insightful, and potentially transformative. But to get to the transformative part, you actually have to participate in reflecting and writing.

If you have been in the vicinity of the sacred – ever brushed against the holy – you retain it more in your bones than in your head. ~ Daniel Taylor, In Search of Sacred Places

This morning, I sit and type in a Waffle House. Growing up, Waffle House was where my Grandma Jeanette and I would often go to breakfast when I was visiting her. I still remember the songs she would choose on the Waffle House jukebox! And the flavor of Waffle House pancakes is still very specifically delightful to my tastebuds. She was my favorite grandparent. We would go to shows together, sing together, and be creative together. I would visit her about two weekends a month and they were some of the happiest times of my childhood.

I also recall, as she neared her death, her relationship with my mother became much more contentious. Grandma Jeanette, my favorite grandparent, would say things to my mother that were so hostile, I don’t want to type them here. I witnessed the deep pain this brought up in my mother as these comments were often related to family complexities that my mother had never healed from.

Both of these truths about my Grandma Jeanette travel with me in thinking about the grief that her death brought to my life. In that grief, there has long been an understanding that one person can be complicated: both lovable and painful, and possibly a multitude of other experiences within their one personhood.

Indeed grief contains a multitude of possible understandings and inheritances as every type of grief is a bit different, each situation is different, the people involved are different, and we are different as we move through our lives. So I’ve asked some of our Pastoral Care Team to contribute some words about understandings, joys, and challenges that they have received as part of their grief journeys:

“[My loved ones who have died], I remember them always, the good and bad.”

How can we find a way to live in the knowledge that we are all related? How can we become better kin?

~ Patty Krawec, Becoming Kin: An Indigenous Call to Unforgetting the Past and Reimagining Our Future

Every day we are inundated with information. Through words, images, conversations, screens, media, people, and life…it can be hard to keep track of what is most important in the deluge of noise and “news.” This year, the ministers at ERUUF are offering a series of classes to help all of us ground and center in the midst of all that life brings. In the first class of the series (Healing the Earth) I was moved by the engaged presence of participants, both online and in person, who embraced the primary invitation of the class—to pause, slow down, and listen.

Based on the book Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer, we explored our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world, our sense of interconnectedness with the Earth, and what it may take to write a new future for a sustainable world for all. Dr Kimmerer offers that the awakening of ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the Earth and learn to give our own gifts in return.

She writes:

Action on behalf of life transforms. Because the relationship between self and the world is reciprocal, it is not a question of first getting enlightened or saved, and then acting. As we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us. Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But, when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.

The book is full of stories that encourage us to pay attention to how we are in relationship with one another, the Earth, and the elements of nature. Following the lead of the book, the class focused on listening to one another share stories of our own experience of the natural world. Each week, there was a homework assignment, that we then shared in the next class.

The path of spirit is grounded in the embodied experience.
~ Zenju Earthlyn Manuel

In the past year or so, I have often reflected about the newness which we are welcoming into our lives, especially as we move forward from the most intense points of isolation connected to COVID-19. This week at ERUUF it was moving to two services each Sunday, a cause for much celebration! While there are many aspects of newness in all avenues of life over the past couple of years, ERUUF has felt quite celebratory in it’s welcome of the new in the short time I have been here. This has been a wonderful experience for me, as one part of my spiritual grounding is the idea (held in more than one spiritual tradition) that nothing about our world or experience truly stays the same. Everything is constantly shifting and changing, sometimes in the smallest of ways, and sometimes much more noticeably. This change is neither good nor bad on the whole. But I think it is healthy to celebrate that newness can bring joy and possibility.

And also, while I may believe change is always around us and in us…while I may believe that there is no truly going back to what is how it was…there is an importance to recognizing the warmth and joy of the familiar. ERUUF’s move to two services is both new and familiar. For many who have been here a while, it may bring some comfort to see that bit of familiar structure re-arrive! In the same way, familiar traditions such as the recent Ingathering and the upcoming Connections Fair provide us touchstones for our travels through the year as well as memories and reminiscence of why we have come to be where we are on our journey. The familiar can keep us connected to those pieces of our life that, while they may shift, are more persistent and grounding.

So, as we travel into this September, I hope for you a blend of newness and the familiar. May we see the old in the new, as well as the new in the old. May we take the opportunity to offer care and community to each other when the old and new enter each of our lives in challenging ways. And may we come together in celebration of aspects of both frequently and with vigor!

I have a dream my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by content of their character. I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day,...right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today!

Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
August 28, 1963

It is early Monday and I am taking my morning walk along beautiful tree-lined pathways of my neighborhood which intersect with the American Tobacco Trail, and for which I am always in great gratitude: for the interesting interconnected people of the neighborhood, the beauty of the trees in their morning scent which never ceases to delight me, and all the thoughtfully designed walking trails that are being maintained just enough that I am appreciating the nature of spaces where trees and vines, tall grasses, bushes and weeds can be just as they are.

I am now walking the trail along the main road and it is not long before I begin noticing the many yellow buses rolling along (or bouncing as I remember they did when I was a child, though this might not actually be true of such buses in 2023), which signals that this is the first day of school. A day I’ve always experienced as thickly layered in possibilities of welcome, from the warmest and the richest to the harshest and the nonexistent. The first day of school almost always filled my heart with anxiousness about how I’d be welcomed upon entering a new place, or even a new moment or a new space in an old and familiar place.

The warmest and richest welcome I’ve ever had was on the very first day of school I ever had. I am four years old and meeting my kindergarten teacher, who is calling me by my formal first name which I am hearing for the first time ever, and the sound vibration of the words cascade upon my little girl self like a gift of enlightenment.

We are often taught or shaped by living examples we encounter in our lives. Yes, words matter, but often the greatest impact is in lived experience. Embodied values. This is true at any age. Yes, children are our teachers too. But it is especially true with our elders. The gifts of lived experience, the embodied wisdom of life’s journey can serve as a bridge that connects our past, present, and future.

Michele Obama writes:

The older I get, the more I value the wisdom of those who have gone before me.

They have seen more, they have done more, and they have learned more.

I am grateful for their guidance and their insights.

"When you wake up and see that the Earth is not just the environment, the Earth is us, you touch the nature of interbeing. And at that moment you can have real communication with the Earth…We have to wake up together.

And if we wake up together, then we have a chance. Our way of living our life and planning our future has led us into this situation. And now we need to look deeply to find a way out, not only as individuals but as a collective, a species."

(Thich Nhat Hanh from Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet)

In the middle of the hottest summer on record, and another season of rampant wildfires, the impact of the current climate crisis is very present. The litany of impending challenges is a long list from rising sea levels and deforestation to food insecurity and extreme weather events.

Climate change is a multifaceted issue encompassing various sciences, politics, economics, history, psychology, and spirituality. Regardless of the lens used to view the issue, environmental racism and justice are intertwined within all of it. The climate crisis presents a critical global challenge, posing significant obstacles to vulnerable communities worldwide. The impact of greenhouse gas emissions and resulting global warming extends far and wide, disproportionately affecting low-income countries and communities, indigenous populations, and other marginalized groups.

“...in order to answer the question, ‘Where do we go from here?’... we must first honestly recognize where we are now.”

~ Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness...because in the last analysis all moments are key moments and life itself is grace."

                                                                                                                                                                     ~ Frederick Buechner

Hello Dear Ones, how are you doing?

Many have asked for a recording of the spoken word piece I delivered at Jazz for the Holidays on December 18. The service was unrecorded but the text is available below in this longer than usual blog post:  

Life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet when life speaks, all the winds become words; and when she speaks again, the smiles upon your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words.

When she sings, the deaf hear and are held; and when she comes walking the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow her in wonder and astonishment.

Thus wrote Lebanese-American poet Kahlil Gibran.

What I know for sure is that when
Life
deigns to be embodied
in the becoming
            and becoming
                        and becoming
of each one of us,
it is only then that she is truly something to behold.
The awesome beauty and magnificent terror,
the fierce strength and tender fragility of
Life
embodied as human being human
in all its glorious and terrible forms:
each one of us
bursting
into being out of the DNA of stars
now cells and sinews and bone and blood and flesh.
Life
now speaking in the high pitched wail
of we newly arrived and baby born
into human consciousness and
whatever
Life
wants to offer us
into