Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, May 8, 2022.

A few years ago one of my minister friends was talking about how important poetry had become to him, as a preacher and in his spiritual life. I loved that he lifted this up; it helped me realize the same is true for me. Poets are the mystics and sages and prophets of our time, aren’t they? The best parts of the Bible, to my mind, are the poetic parts, and the stories and parables. The parts that are more history, or rules, they haven’t aged so well.

I’m grateful that in our tradition the canon isn’t closed—that as a preacher I can share inspiration from wherever I find it. In this month when our theme is “The Way of Creativity” I want to share poems for the sheer joy of hearing them, and being moved by them. You could have a whole worship service with just poems and silence, some music and a prayer! I’d show up for that!

We just heard Emily Dickinson, who wrote from her home out in Amherst:

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at Home –
With a Bobolink for a Chorister –
And an Orchard, for a Dome –

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –
I, just wear my Wings –
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton – sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman –
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –
I’m going, all along.

I love this poem, and have to confess that a little part of me is saying, “Do you really want to encourage your people to keep the Sabbath at home? What if no one comes to church?” I hear that voice, but another part of me answers back, “They know this already, that they are free to spend Sunday morning where and how they want. Yes, I’m super grateful for everyone who shows up here, but I understand that there are plenty of good places to be in the presence of the Holy.”

I’m grateful for the openness of our faith tradition, which encourages us to live lives like Emily Dickinson’s, going to Heaven all along. Isn’t that what the way of creativity is about? Finding heaven, and joy, and connection, right here, in the stuff of our daily lives?

My only concern about lifting up creativity and the arts is that some of you will have a voice in your head saying, “I’m not creative, I’m no artist.” Few of us are professional artists, and not very many of us have the skills in painting or sculpting or weaving or music that we think of as artistry. But you are the poet of your own life! You are the artist of your days! Do you see that?  If not, my hope is that you will come to understand yourself in that way. 

The minister and mystic Howard Thurman once said, "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” What makes you come alive? That’s a clue to your artistry. And it can be anything.

A year after I graduated college, I moved from a small town in North Carolina to the big city of Washington, DC, because my best friend from college invited me to come live with him there. I brought up a table that my grandfather had made from planks of cypress, that I’d had for years. When I was a boy we ran our electric trains on that table. Later I made model rockets on it, and one day I used an x-acto knife to carve the initials of a girl I had a crush on into that table top. It wasn’t fine furniture, but it was sturdy and useful, and I still have it.

When it came to DC it needed some work, so one day I set up outside, tightening the joints and refinishing the surfaces, and I was quite happy doing this work. So happy, that when fy friend came outside, I looked up at him and said, “You know, I love carpentry so much, sometimes I wonder if I was Jesus in a previous life.”

My friend, who was an earnest Presbyterian, was rather shocked, and thought I shouldn’t be saying such things! But it was Jesus who said, “I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” Don’t you think our friend Jesus wants us to be happy and fulfilled? And isn’t creating a part of that?

So today I ask you, what makes you happy? What brings you gladness, and satisfaction, and joy? And are you doing enough of that?

There are things I like to do, that make me feel good, that remind me there is goodness and beauty in our world. Gardening does this for me, and so does working with wood and other simple materials. I love the simple acts of making and fixing things. I love hand tools the way an artist must love her brushes and paints. The tools we use are our partners in creation, and with use they can become holy things, can’t they? 

So what do you like to do? What gives you purpose and gladness? What inspires you, and encourages you? What materials do you love to work with, and what kind of settings do you work best in? I think of the ways Dawn Crowell takes such beautiful care of this building. I think of the beautiful baked goods that folks brought to the reception following Pat Feller’s memorial service a week ago. Of how our Community Meals team makes food, with so much love, to feed those who are hungry. Of the ways people gather here to meditate and send metta, loving kindness, out into the world.

 In the Hebrew tradition there’s a phrase, “tikkun olam,” which means, “to repair the world.” And isn’t anything we can do to increase goodness or mend what’s broken, whether that’s tending a relationship, bringing kindness or compassion, or working for justice, isn’t it all part of repairing the world? And doesn’t it also help to repair our own lives?

Especially at this time of year, in this season when “so much is in bud,” as Denise Levertov wrote, there is this invitation to live into the fullness of life. To be seeing and appreciating what is beautiful, because we need the solace and the hope that beauty brings. At the same time, to see what is broken and unjust, and be working toward righting those wrongs, as best we can.

…we have only begun 
To love the earth.

We have only begun 
To imagine the fullness of life. 

How could we tire of hope? 
—so much is in bud. 

How can desire fail? 
—we have only begun 

to imagine justice and mercy, 
only begun to envision 

how it might be 
to live as siblings 
with beast and flower, 
not as oppressors. (Denise Levertov, “Beginners”)

My spiritual companions, this is the way of creativity, the way of wholehearted living, that prophets and poets have always called us toward. To be partners in creation is to imagine living as siblings with one another, and with our earth and its creatures. To be grateful for all these partners and companions.

On this day when people remember and celebrate their mothers, may there also be space for mourning the mother you may not have had, or the opportunity to mother that wasn’t possible for you. Those of us who are toward the male end of the spectrum, we might acknowledge that creation is something that seems more naturally the province of women. If you’ve ever attended a birth, you know this. In that space, women are in charge, or they should be. It’s a humbling place for a man, and it should be. What would our world look like if women, if mothers, were in charge? How about we work on creating more spaces where women are invited to lead, and have more power and agency over what matters, including their own bodies?

May Sarton wrote a poem about the dance between creation and destruction, in which she invokes the Hindu goddess Kali, who is a fierce embodiment of female power in all its fullness. Sarton wrote,

Help us to bring darkness into the light, 
To lift out the pain, the anger, 
Where it can be seen for what it is— 
The balance-wheel for our vulnerable, aching love. 
Put the wild hunger where it belongs, 
Within the act of creation…

Help us to be the always hopeful 
Gardeners of the spirit 
Who know that without darkness 
Nothing comes to birth 
As without light 
Nothing flowers. (May Sarton, “The Invocation to Kali”)

Praise be for the darkness and the light. For these lives we have been given. For these invitations to be partners in creation. Now and always,

Amen.