Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, November 6, 2022.
The other day I was part of a conversation about the state of our world. Not the news, not national or international events, but what folks are experiencing these days, in their lives. In their families, in their workplaces, with neighbors and friends. There was a sense among us that these days more people are stressed, or anxious, or worried. That it seems harder, these days, to give others the benefit of the doubt, to trust in the goodness of people and our world.
Does this seem right to you? There’s plenty we could worry about, but I don’t want to go there today. You don’t need more to worry about, do you? Many of us are carrying a lot, these days. Many of us are tired, from the slog we’ve been on for a couple of years now. Life has been hard, for young people, and for elders, for parents, and for teachers, for those working in health care, and in all kinds of public service jobs. How many of us have found that there are new things to worry about, that we didn’t even know about before?
We are living in stressful times, and it’s more important than ever that we pay attention to how we are navigating our days, to how we’re moving through the world. Because so much of our experience is based on how we perceive things, on the spirit, the heart and soul you bring to your days. Do you know what I mean? When your heart is open, when you are feeling relaxed and at peace, you can take in difficult news or even some criticism without getting anxious or overreacting. But if I’m already feeling stressed, it doesn’t take much to push me into a more reactive state.
I remember when our children were little, and we were at the pediatrician’s, and they used all these metrics to measure children against the average. And on that visit our doctor said, “I’m not worried, there’s really nothing be be concerned about, let’s just say this child is, for now, delayed, compared to most children.” I didn’t say anything until we were in the car, and then it came out. “Delayed? Delayed? What does that even mean? There’s nothing wrong is there? Why did he even use that word?” Maybe, under my calm exterior, I was a more worried parent than I knew.
We all have worries, and there is some evolutionary wisdom and usefulness in a healthy amount of worry. It sharpens our attention, and calls us to focus when we need to. Like driving in traffic, or finding your way in a strange city—it’s good to be alert, and not the time to be too casual or laid back. But too much worry makes us anxious and afraid, and then we can find ourselves overreacting, treating a situation as a threat, when it’s not; treating a person as an enemy, when they are our friend.
Our worship theme for this month is “Generosity,” and I’m sensing that what is needed, especially these days, is a generosity of spirit.
I’m not thinking about money here, though I will say that your financial generosity in recent years has been really heartening, and we are so grateful here for all they ways you give. One of the reasons I love being your minister is because you are such generous people—and I’m not just talking about money— you are openhearted, you care for each other and for our world.
So maybe this isn’t a sermon you even need to hear! But maybe, these days, it doesn’t hurt to be reminded or encouraged to lean in to the generous and openhearted part of yourself. It’s good for us, as individuals, to do this, and it’s certainly needed in our world.
But maybe it always has been. People must have been worried two thousand years ago, or why would Jesus told them not to worry? It must be part of our human condition to worry, but too much of it isn’t good for us. I think of an elder in the Portsmouth church, who in her later years she told our minister, “I want to be less of a worrier, and more of a warrior.”
This woman had a Buddhist practice, and this spirit is what meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg encourages in her students. She tells them, “Sit like a mountain. Sit with a sense of strength and dignity. Be steadfast, be majestic, be natural and at ease in awareness. No matter how many winds are blowing, no matter how many clouds are swirling, no matter how many lions are prowling, be intimate with everything and sit like a mountain.”
I was with some of you the other day, in a Chalice Circle gathering, and one of you talked about the generosity of our natural world. That every day we receive these gifts all around us—the sun rising, the sky above, the trees around us, the earth under our feet.
Isn’t this what Jesus was saying in our reading this morning? To remember the gifts we have been given, to see and appreciate them, to trust that they are ours to enjoy and share.
“Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.
“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will God clothe you, you of little faith!” (Luke 12:27-28).
I wonder, what if we updated this passage a bit, substituted a different word for that little name God? How might we hear this differently?
“Consider the lilies, how they grow: they don’t work hard, yet I tell you, even Beyonce in all her glory was not decked out like one of these.
“But if our mother Earth so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will she clothe you, you who worry too much!
“So do not keep worrying what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and what you will wear, for the spirit of abundant life that is all around knows you need these things. Just set your heart on what matters, try to live with ease and openness, and everything will be okay.”
I love the openness of our UU tradition, how we have an invitation to question and wonder; trusting our own experiences and translating and making meaning in ways that are helpful for these days. I hope you feel that invitation here. To interpret and translate in ways that are liberating and life giving.
There’s a poem, by Ada Limón, that has a couple of lines about this. The poet is describing a walk with a friend:
I think of that walk in the valley where
J said, You don’t believe in God? And I said,
No. I believe in this connection we all have
to nature, to each other, to the universe.
And she said, Yeah, God.
(“What It Looks Like to Us and the Words We Use,” by Ada Limón).
Maybe a spirit of generosity means being more playful and a bit less serious about things. Inviting conversations like this one. Learning to relax and enjoy this moment, and this day.
I was working at home on Friday, and walked outside to get some air, and a new neighbor walked by and smiled, and said, “Isn’t it a beautiful day? And hasn’t it been a beautiful fall?” Her glad and generous spirit touched me, and it inspired me to go get my laptop and take it outside, where I could bask in those blessings while I did my work.
Who among us doesn’t need to be reminded, from time to time, to look up and look around? To appreciate the gifts we have been given, to remember that it is a good and generous world. As we sang a few minutes ago, in words that come from the Hebrew prophet Isaiah,
“O come you longing, thirsty souls, drink freely from the spring.
And come, you weary famished folk, and end your hungering.
Why spend yourself on empty air? Why not be satisfied?
For everywhere a feast is spread that’s always at our side.”
Since we are here on this vast and generous and beautiful Earth, since we are part of this fathomless and unfolding mystery, can we take heart and be glad and choose to live our lives with a generous spirit? Delighting in the gifts of this day, facing the challenges that come with courage and confidence, enjoying these lives and these companions we have been given, singing as we go.
Singing as we go,
Amen.