Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, September 5, 2021.

Almost thirty years ago I followed my wife Tracey to the UU church in Portsmouth, NH. There I found a vibrant spiritual community that changed my life, for the better. And that eventually led me to you.

It didn’t take long before Tracey and I were involved in church life, and we loved it—getting to know people, helping out where we could. I remember one night, I was at a dinner meeting at our minister’s house, and when it was time to leave, he was standing at the kitchen sink, doing dishes. For a minute I leaned on the counter, talking to him, and I asked if he wanted help. He said, “No thanks,” and a big smile came across his face. “I love doing dishes,” he said. “Look at this—on one side, a pile of dirty dishes. And over here, clean ones, drying. Order out of chaos.” 

He paused for a minute, and then he said something I’ve never forgotten. He said, “In ministry, there’s plenty I can’t control. Things happen, when they do, and you respond as best you can.” He looked back at the dishes and smiled. “This I can control.”

We live in a world, we are living in a time, when so much is beyond our control. There’s plenty of bad news, plenty of pain and brokenness. And that’s not the whole story! It’s still a beautiful world! And as Anne Frank said, “people are truly good at heart.” And the Spirit is still with us; that great and fathomless mystery is all around, waiting for us to notice. Waiting for us to bask in its presence, to take refuge in its spaciousness. 

The invitation, the necessity even, of these days is to cultivate flexible and open hearts that are capable of holding the pain and the joy of these lives we are living. To have practices that help us to stay connect to our selves, one another, and to the Spirit, to remember we are not alone.

I was out in the yard the other day, on my knees pulling weeds. It felt good to be doing something so simple and tangible. And today’s sermon title came to me! Because in that moment, the simple physical act was saving me. 

And I wonder about you. What is saving you these days? What simple acts or practices are helping you to stay grounded and hopeful? I hope you’ll share that at coffee hour!

Sandra and Cil led a beautiful service last Sunday, reflecting on the Shakers, and they shared these words the Shakers lived by: “Hands to work, hearts to God.” That’s what in my heart today—how putting our hands to good and simple work can orient us toward what is holy and good. That is something I need right now, and I expect you do too.

We all have things we do, tasks like laundry, yard work, putting out the trash, washing dishes, cleaning up. How often do we rush through these things, so we can get on to something else? As we heard Thich Nhat Hanh say in our reading this morning, 

“While washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes.

“At first glance, that might seem a little silly: why put so much stress on a simple thing? But that’s precisely the point. The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is a wondrous reality. I’m being completely myself, following my breath, conscious of my presence and conscious of my thoughts and actions.”

He asks, if we can’t be present while washing the dishes, how can we be present for the cup of tea afterwards? How present are we being to the moments of our lives?

I spend too much time in my head, but these lovely little chores, like pulling weeds and washing dishes, invite me into my body, and into the present moment. And they are holy moments.

And how often do we miss these opportunities? Chore is not necessarily a negative word! What if we saw these tasks as opportunities to use our bodies, and bring a bit of order out of chaos?

Many of you know church member Dawn Crowell, who because our sexton here several years ago. Dawn is a wonderful person, and a hard worker. When she joined our staff, people noticed. Some of you would walk into the building, look around, and see the shining floors or sniff the fresh smell, and ask, “Was Dawn here today?” or smile and say, “You can tell that Dawn has been here,”

One day I was thanking Dawn for her good work, and she kind of shyly said that she loves being in this building, even and especially when she’s here alone, that it’s a spiritual experience for her. This week, I asked here to tell me more, and she said,

“You are right I don’t look at what I do as work or a chore or a burden but more as a privilege and honor to care for this beautiful building. The building means so much to me, and to countless others now and throughout the years, and I feel blessed to know it so intimately and it may seem odd to some, but yes, taking care of our building does nourish my soul.

“Before I left in August on my longest vacation since I started working at UUCH I had a bit of anxiety. Well, maybe more than a bit. It was going to be the longest and furthest I would be away from the building. The day before I left for vacation as I was turning out the lights I stood on the edge of the Murray Room, looked around and aloud said ‘You be good building,’ and I may have given it a little pat. 

“This is how much I care for and cherish our building, and don’t look at it as a burden at all.”

I was listening to a talk the other night, by a spiritual teacher and psychologist, and she observed that our spiritual lives need to be tended. “Think of a garden,” she said. “If you left it untended for a year, what would happen? It would be a mess.” 

I’m so grateful that Abbe is part of this service, because she is one of our great church gardeners. I think she’d tell you that tending her garden is a core part of her spiritual life and practice. There is so much in our world that needs tending right now. Why not start close to home? Pulling weeds, washing dishes, bringing some order to what can feel jumbled and chaotic. Doing physical things can help you tend your spiritual life, can help bring you into the presence of that holy mystery. Hands to work, hearts to God.

May this be our prayer:

Thanks be for these, life’s holy times. Thanks for the simple, quiet moments when we are present to what is. When we remember that in both light and in shadow, life is a gift, and a blessing.

Amen.