Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, January 9, 2022.

Let’s begin with a prayer for these days we are living in, using some of the words the choir just sang (from a song by Gretchen Haley and Jason Shelton): 

Spirit of life and love, these are intense times we are living in.
Some days it seems life is coming at us in a thousand different ways, 
and still, we are here. We are here, together, and we pray
let your Spirit of love and beauty hold us in their warm embrace, 
here, in this hope that we make, together.
We are here, drawing close to one another, breathing in and breathing out,
here with the invitation to simply be, with one another, here, in this time, together. Amen.

Our worship theme for this month of January is “The Way of Interdependence,” and I see interdependence and connection and cooperation as good things. But this week I discovered that not everyone does! What a shock—not everyone sees the world like I do! 

The other day I saw an article about married life that said people sometimes stay in unhappy marriages because they are so interdependent. The author sees interdependence as a trap, as an unhealthy thing. But that’s not what we’re talking about here this month. Healthy interdependence requires self-awareness and good boundaries; knowing where you end and another person begins. And isn’t this kind of self-knowledge helpful in any kind of mutual relationship?

We are complex beings, living in a complex world. Can we embrace this truth, and welcome the different parts of ourselves and others? Rather than seeing things as either good or bad, can be more open to nuance and complexity, and live in a more both/and kind of way? I sense this approach could help us better navigate these uncertain and changeable times, and this being human.

Which is what Rumi is talking about in our reading this morning, when he describes this being human as like a guest house:

Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

You know what he’s talking about, don’t you? You have within you different parts of yourself, different voices and thoughts that are sometimes in conflict with one another, don’t you? I’m not the only one, am I?

Last year, when I was on sabbatical, my wife and I read a book called Negotiating the Inner Peace Treaty, which about this inner cast of characters we each have. The invitation is to get in touch with these different parts of ourselves. Especially the ones that we aren’t proud of, or may be afraid of, that we tend to hide in the shadows.

Walt Whitman wrote, “Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

Each of us contains a lot, multitudes, and we are invited, as Rumi says, to “welcome and entertain them all.”

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

This is easier said than done, of course. We're taught to welcome our happy thoughts and feelings, to keep on the sunny side of life. But especially in these January days, isn’t this a good time to make a practice of welcoming whatever comes, and trying to simply be with what is, trusting that it is coming for some good reason, that it might be a guide from beyond, helping you to get ready for some new delight.

What I’m talking about is integration—gathering up the parts of ourselves that we might tend to push away, and getting to know them better. Sometimes I’ve dialogued with these parts in my journal. I’ve asked them, “Who are you, and what are you trying to teach me?”

Here’s my simple message for this Sunday: how about we use these these mid-winter days, and this pandemic slowdown time, to do some inner work, to accomplish some spiritual growth? How about we do this not by running around doing things, but by trying to simply be with what comes? To sit with joy and with sadness, or whatever comes. To engage with shame or longing, or whatever comes. To bring a spirit of wondering and discovery to the parts of ourselves that we may keep at a distance. Because there are treasures to be found there, in the shadows. 

I trust that doing this inner work, this integrative work, will help us not only to have more happy and peaceful lives, but will help us in our relationships with others, especially when we’re navigating some kind of difference, or living or working in a stressful situation. And every day gives us opportunities to practice this way of integration and interdependence; being together, and apart, making connections that matter.

I know the way of interdependence may seem like a risky path. Being in relationship with others is risky; who knows what might happen? You might have your heart and life expanded by a new friendship or connection, you might be changed, your life could take some unexpected twist or turn. When you make deep connections, it’s likely that sometime later you may be heartbroken when that person disappoints you, or leaves, or dies. But what’s the alternative? Do you want to live like an island, all by yourself? If that was true, would you be here today? 

How many of us feel heartbroken this morning, that our dear Pat Feller has died from brain cancer? How many of us didn’t quite get the opportunity to tell Pat how we felt about her, because she was not someone who exactly welcomed that kind of emotional expression? But you know, it’s not too late. You can tell her now. That’s what I’m going to do. I don’t know if she will be able to hear me, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is saying what you want and need to say, giving voice to what is in your heart. 

This way of interdependence, it can be painful sometimes, It can feel risky to depend on others, who may hurt or disappoint or die on you. But is there any other way? 

Interdependence is the way of depth and growth, of connection and redemption. It’s the dance of life, isn’t it? Our experiences and our lives, interwoven with others. The dance of coming together, and moving apart, being open to what others can share and teach us, and then, when the time comes, letting them go, feeling blessed by the encounters that we’ve had.

Rumi said: “Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” What if we would approach our days with that spirit of curiosity and expectancy? When we encounter a stranger, or a an unfamiliar emotion, and greet them with an attitude of openness and warmth: “Welcome! Come on in! What are you here to share with me? What gifts might you be bringing?”

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be careful, and have appropriate boundaries. But how many of us live guarded lives, especially these days? How many of us could stand to to worry less, and be more present to what is? Without the need to call it good or bad, to just be.

I love that song our choir sang, those words from Rev. Gretchen Haley, that “life comes for us in a thousand different ways,” and there’s this ever-present invitation, and it’s why we gather for worship every week, to be open to that life-giving Spirit in our midst, and the invitation to “release the breath, the urgency, the endless grief and strife, and simply be. Present. To this hope that we make, together.”

That’s what the way of interdependence is, my friends, it’s us joining in the dance, weaving a solid life, for ourselves and for others. It’s doing our own inner and individual work, and then coming together, for what we can’t do all on our own. 

And isn’t it good, that we have these lives, and these companions? And these guides, and these opportunities? And this hope, that we make, together.

Amen.