Abundance
This sermon, written for the annual Stone Soup Sunday celebration at UUF (20 November, 2011), examines the idea of abundance from the perspective of our inner gifts. What gifts do we have among us in community that can help unlock a practice of generosity and a sense of abundance?
In Jon J. Muth’s retelling of Stone Soup, the villagers have been through a lot: famine, floods, and war. They still have a village well, a sense of curiosity, and the capacity for excitement in their shared creation. They might not have even remembered that they had these assets were it not for the invitation of the monks. Yet through these gifts, they were able to create a feast for body and soul, reviving their ability to experience joy.
The gifts that the people in the story discovered among themselves are not so different from ours. Our village well is a heritage that we draw from, a tradition of love for human beings and for the world. This love is strong enough to embrace the imperfect, strong enough to call us into action without testing for human worthiness. Another gift we share with the people in the story is our sense of curiosity. The breath of truth invites us to experiment and discover. This changing, evolving wind of curiosity leaves plenty of room for mistakes and for alternative points of view. A third thing we have in common with the story is our capacity for excitement. This spark fuels our congregation’s dreams. We want to feed hungry bodies and souls. We want to improve our signage so that seekers who would enjoy having this as their spiritual home can find us. We sparkle with delight at joining together on projects such as the Christmas Family. These are some of the gifts we have to share: love, curiosity, and excitement.
The Wellsprings of Universalism
In the story, the monks started the soup by drawing water from the well that the villagers shared in common. It is true in any community that we drink from wells we did not dig (See Deuteronomy 6:11). Human beings enjoy gifts like music or the beauty of the earth that we never could have earned, and indeed are not required to earn.
One of those wellsprings for us is our Universalist heritage. Universalism says that we are all knit together by the source of life, the essence of a fierce love that will not let us go. As the Rev. Dr. Rebecca Parker puts it, “Even when our hearts are broken by our own failure or the failure of others, even when we have done all we can and life is still broken, there is a universal love that has never broken faith with us and never will.”
Personally, I can’t hear that often enough. Even through brokenness, there is a universal love. Today is also Transgender Day of Remembrance, and so I am all the more aware that failing to honor the Divine love for every person leads to tolerance for harassment and violence. I am hoping to go to the Remembrance service tonight at First Unitarian downtown, where the names of the fallen will remind me that complacency is a mistake. (UU resources for remembrance events here.) Universalism offers the grace to keep trying. We respond to the gift of inherent worth as best we can, lovingly confronting evil, knowing that our partial progress and our shortcomings are already forgiven as we begin again.
Living out the promise of Universalism, actively honoring the worth of all people, isn’t easy. We need energy beyond ourselves. For some Universalists, that energy comes from gratitude for the past. Some are fed by the feeling of connection with the source of life. For Toribio Quimada, the energy he found transformed his community. (See here,
here, and here for more information about Quimada.)
The Rev. Toribio Sabandija Quimada was born in the Philippines to a Catholic family. In 1936, in order to weather the Great Depression, his family moved in with Protestant cousins. In his new home, 18-year-old Toribio was finally able to read the Bible for himself, which led him to re-evaluate his faith. In 1943, Toribio was baptized into the Iglesia Universal de Kristo. He was ordained to the ministry of that church in 1948. In order to gather the hymnbooks, Bibles, and Sunday School materials that his church needed, he reached out to churches near and far. The Universalist church in Gloucester, Massachusetts responded, followed by the Universalist Service Committee. In 1954, two things happened: Rev. Quimada was excommunicated from the Iglesia Universal, and the newly formed Universalist Church of the Philippines was recognized by the Universalist Church of America. Nine congregations in the Philippines joined the new denomination.
Quimada felt called to reach out again, this time to the poor farmers in his community. Some of them had been working the same fields for generations, but did not hold formal or legal deeds. Corporations or wealthy people would take control of the land, leaving the farmers with no money and no means of survival. Realizing that land-grabbing was an example disrespect for human dignity, Quimada made it part of his ministry to help farmers obtain deeds to their properties. As you can imagine, taking the part of equality and fairness over partiality to the wealthy, not to mention leading a minority religion, made Quimada unpopular in some places. He was murdered in 1988, but the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Philippines continues.
I have spoken before about the gift of our Universalist heritage. That heritage isn’t limited to 18th and 19th century New England. It seems to me that Toribio Quimada had to have been fed by streams of spirituality outside himself. Whether that was faith in the universal and unconditional love of God, connections with international Unitarian Universalists, the living witness of the congregations of the UCP, or all of these and more, the powers he drew from gave him the strength to flow right on through the limits set by dogma and oppression. We can be inspired by our 20th and 21st century peers in the Philippines, and we can draw from those same wells of the spirit that Toribio Quimada did.
(Partnerships between U.S. and Filipino UU’s continue.)
You may have read in this month’s UU World magazine an essay by the Rev. Robert Hardies at All Souls Church in DC. He writes:
“One of our greatest assets is our gospel—the gospel of Universalism, of God’s love for all people. I serve a church called All Souls, which kind of says it all. Those two words sum up all that is good and holy and true about religion. Can you imagine a church that called itself “Some Souls Church”? … The good news that we Unitarian Universalists have to share … is that a God who picks and chooses is no God at all. It is an idol. Against this spurious faith we must preach the old Universalist gospel of a love that invites all souls to the welcome table, not some. A love that can take hold of our hearts and lead us to lives of meaning and purpose.”
We’re talking about abundance here. There is so much love and so much room, we can’t help but welcome all souls. That deep supply of love is our village well. That is the spring from which we can draw refreshment and strength. Even when we individually feel depleted, there is enough renewal to share.
The Wind of Curiosity
A second gift that can lead us to remember abundance is curiosity. Curiosity requires enough bravery to risk finding the truth. It is sustained by an atmosphere of free inquiry and transparency. The villagers in the story had windows to see what was going on in the town square. Despite their troubled past, the villagers had a common place where they were all welcome, where they could gather to find out what was going on. Their open minds and open windows helped them remember other kinds of openness.
Among us at UUF, we have a number of researchers and educators. We are people who value truth and discovery, gathering data in the real world as much as possible. This is despite a societal climate where some would rather block data-gathering in order to protect assumptions.
Unitarian Universalists seek to apply the same courage and curiosity to the adventure of spiritual discovery. As one point of comparison, the scientific method depends on the philosophy that it’s OK to be wrong sometimes. You make a hypothesis and gather data. Whether you find out you were wrong or you were right, FANTASTIC, because you learned something. Sure, there are reasons to hope that you’re right, but I’m led to understand that continuing the search is more important that continuing to be wrong. Universalism is the same way. Learning and growing is more important. We make mistakes sometimes. That doesn’t disqualify us from being part of the human family or from pursuing a quest for meaning. Curiosity got the villagers to give stone soup a try. Curiosity is in abundant supply in science, education, and this church.
One experiment I’m seeing on Facebook is that people are posting one statement of gratitude every day. I gather that this is a practice some of my friends have taken up for the month of November. A habit of gratitude can definitely change a person’s outlook. I wonder what other spiritual experiments we might try together?
What would it be like to experiment with a spiritual practice every day from Thanksgiving through New Year’s? How would that preparation change the way we arrive into 2012? Let’s gather some data. I’m going to suggest that all of us, all ages, pick a spiritual practice to try from November 25 to January 1. That might be daily meditation, reading one poem every day, a sun salutation while your coffee is brewing, writing a just-because note to a different person each day, listening to UU music, saying grace, knitting mittens for our mitten tree… the possibilities are endless. I think I might try preparing one gift every day that’s not entirely store-bought. That gives me a lot of latitude for things like crafts, baking, quality time, and passing along family treasures. (I’m inspired by this article in the UU World.) Whatever you choose, take notes about how the practice is changing your outlook, if at all. And don’t worry about messing it up. We’re Universalists, so if you miss a day, all is forgiven and you can start again. Report back at Rhythms, Readings, and Resolutions on January 1, on the UUF Facebook page, or leave a comment on my blog.
We already do this for spiritual practices around words and music. For Soulful Sundown, open mic night, holiday caroling, and whenever our house band is cooking up something new, we want to hear it. We want to find out the results of combining practice with creativity and conviction. Why else would we publish sermon teasers in the newsletter, except to get the curiosity wheels spinning. We support each other’s spiritual growth by participating in a community of discovery.
I firmly believe that our talent for curiosity in this congregation, also known as our interest in the world and our openness to a sense of wonder, is a tremendous gift. I think we have enough curiosity to lift each other’s eyes, to draw our attention to the spiritual center. Through sharing curiosity, may we re-discover the hope that uncovers abundance.
The Spark of Excitement
A third asset that we share with the village in the story is the spark of excitement when we dream and create together. Once they get going, the people in the story run to forgotten cupboards in order to make the soup even more hearty and delicious. Ideas come quickly, and are followed up with action.
We have that, too. I’ve seen the smile that people have as they tuck their gift tag for the Christmas family in their pockets. Members and friends have put a lot of time and thought into our long range planning process so far, knowing that we have a vital mission to uncover and we all have a place in it. I remember when we created the summer chalice, and mini-chalices that people could take home, smiles lit up as we challenged ourselves to become artists. In this congregation, we respond to enthusiasm.
I am reminded of the story, “A Lamp in Every Corner,” the title piece from a collection of UU short stories by Janeen K. Grohsmeyer. The story imagines what it would have been like for a new Unitarian congregation in Transylvania many years ago. The story pictures chiseled stone and enormous wooden beams, woven altar cloths and walls decorated with bright paint, parishioners contributing all of their talents to create a church on a hillside. Once the church is complete, the congregation plans an evening prayer service after a break for supper. The story continues with a conversation between the sexton and his daughter:
“But Father,” [Zora] said suddenly, “we have not finished!”
“What do you mean?”
“There are tall iron lamp stands all along the walls, but there are no lamps! The church will be dark when the people come back.”
“Ah no, little one,” said her father. ‘The light of the church comes from its people. You shall see!” He rang the bell to call the people to worship, then took his daughter by the hand and led her back outside. They waited on the grassy hillside, next to their beautiful church of strong gray stone.
The sun had set behind the mountains, and night was coming soon. Yet in the growing darkness, tiny points of light came from many directions and moved steadily up the hill.
“Each family is entrusted with a lamp, little one,” her father explained. “Each family lights its own way here.”
“Where is our family’s lamp?”
“Your mother is carrying it. She will be here soon.”
The many lights moved closer together, gathering into one moving stream, all headed the same way, growing larger and brighter all the time. Zora’s mother arrived, bearing a burning oil lamp in her hands. The father lifted Zora so she could set their family’s lamp high in its tall iron stand. All around the church, other families were doing the same. Soon the church was ablaze with light in every corner, for all the people of the village had gathered to pray and to sing.
(So ends the excerpt. Full text available here.)
I’ve been to visit Unitarians in Transylvania. I saw stately, historic city churches and small, country fellowships. In every church I visited, there was a sense of open space, as if the church building were making room for the warmth and light brought by the congregation. I think there is a rich tradition and deep spirituality waiting for us in Unitarian Universalism, and I also think that the tradition asks us to respond by bringing something to it. The lamp that each person brings is to be shared. Gathering all of those sparks together gives off a light show. When even a few of us bring excitement to share about spiritual discovery or the possibilities for our journey together, we are all illuminated.
What is your lamp? What is something that sparks your enthusiasm, something you can share your excitement about? When we reveal our delight at the dreams, our mission, and creative projects we share, the warmth of our gathering inspires us to remember the gifts we have to offer the world.
Conclusion
A sense of abundance comes from the recognition that we each have something valuable to share. Sometimes the awareness of what we are missing is very prominent in our minds, making it difficult to find anything to be thankful for. In the beginning of the “Stone Soup” story, villagers seemed to forget that they had carrots, onions, or pepper. After all, what can you do with one ingredient? Yet they retained certain gifts that helped them awaken their sleeping sense of gratitude.
Here in Fallston, we have gathered some of the same gifts as the community in the story: a shared wellspring, the breath of curiosity, sparks of excitement. These are gifts that can help us unlock more of the abundance resting among us. Even if you don’t feel like you personally have all of these, there is enough tradition, courage, and celebration in this congregation to go around. Together, we can follow these gifts back to the source of love, finding more abundance among us to share with the world.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
