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How to Love the World: Save it or Savor it? A Worship Service by the Rev. Jonalu Johnstone Presented to the First Unitarian Church of Oklahoma City Sunday, January 9, 2005
Readings I offer two brief readings about love for the world: one from a social activist, and one from a mystic.
From Mother Teresa: Love cannot remain by itself – it has no meaning. Love has to be put into action and that action is service. Whatever form we are, able or disabled, rich or poor, it is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing; a lifelong sharing of love with others.
And from Rabindranath Tagore: The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and death, in ebb and flow. I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
Meditation
I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult. Another way he is quoted is: I wake every morning uncertain whether the save the world, or savor it.
UU minister Richard Gilbert composed a prayer on this theme, which I share with you this morning for our time of meditation:
I rise in the
morning torn between the desire
How to Love the World: Save it or Savor it? A Worship Service by the Rev. Jonalu Johnstone Presented to the First Unitarian Church of Oklahoma City Sunday, January 9, 2004 Last Saturday, on the first day of this New Year, my partner Jane and I hiked up Black Mesa, the highest point in Oklahoma, in the far northwest corner of the Panhandle. Have you been to the Panhandle? The landscape is more that of New Mexico than what we think of as Oklahoma. The day was glorious, as John Muir might have said; the bright sun warming the earth and the air, giving a golden glow to the brown buttes jutting into the skyline. Red and white striations played in the rock below our feet and rising beside us. The gentle climb to the mesa quickened the pulse just enough to wake the body and soul fully. Talk about a day to savor. I couldn’t help but remember words of worship – some traditional: “I lift mine eyes to the mountains, from whence cometh my help.”
And others, my own. There was a time in my life when my spirituality was completely hooked in with the natural world, which I also associated with the goddess, the Earth Mother. In 1985, I wrote these words for a song, making those connections: Give me the peace of the sunset fading over the mountains With colors soft and clear in the sky. Give me the quiet feeling of the trees at twilight As the world slips softly into night.
O Goddess below, above and around me, Keep me connected with all that surrounds me. Make the boundless beauty of the world you give A pure example for the life that I live.
Give me the freedom of the clouds that sore and wander In wisps and puffs across the sky. Give me a formless spirit to shape like magic As the winds of change assault my soul.
Give me the music of the waters, bubbling, rushing, flowing, Singing songs of praise to earth and air. Give me the sounds of brooks and streams, of rivers and of seas To lend me voice and teach me what to sing.
O Goddess below, above and around me, Keep me connected with all that surrounds me. Make the boundless beauty of the world you give A pure example for the life that I live.
Give me the fury of the ocean in the depths of winter As the waves crash boldly on the shore. Give the sting of the salt and the chill of the water And the rage that rearranges rock.
Give me the still bright starkness of the winter’s blanket, A brilliance sparkling from the snow. Give me a clear, pure vision of light and whiteness, A snowy field without a sign of steps.
O Goddess below, above and around me, Keep me connected with all that surrounds me. Make the boundless beauty of the world you give A pure example for the life that I live.
Give me the hope of the sunrise, brightening the new skies, A slowly growing glow of morning gray. Give me the joy of a new light, chasing back the dark night And welcoming the world from silent sleep.
What I realized while hiking Black Mesa is that these feelings are reflected over and over in religious traditions, often in connection with praise for a Creator God. When religious feeling originally came to humanity, people identified gods with various aspects of nature – the Greek Zeus with thunder, Egyptian Ra with the sun, Babylonian Tiamat the great river goddess, and of course, Gaia, and all her variations – Mother Earth. Even though the Jewish tradition separated creation from Creator, evidence persists of their association. The Psalms call us to turn to the nature: “I lift mine eyes to the mountains.” In the Islamic tradition, the beauty of the natural world is considered “signs of God.” The Quran says, “Nothing is, that does not proclaim His praise” (WVII:44), and the Sufi mystics take it further, as demonstrated by Yunus Emre, in this verse:
The rivers all in Paradise Flow with the word Allah, Allah, And ev’ry loving nightingale He sings and sings Allah, Allah.
Then there are the mystic Christians: Hildegarde of Bingen, Meister Eckerd, Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Sienna. And from the east –Rabindranath Tagore, whom I read from this morning. And in our own time and place, folks like Annie Dillard and Wendell Berry. In our Unitarian tradition, it was the Transcendentalists who most clearly identified the natural world with the holy. I read from Emerson’s essay Nature, a well-known section: Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear… Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed… There I feel that nothing can befall me in life… which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, -- my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space, -- all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God. Over and over, the savoring of life, of the world, is associated with God, especially gratitude and praise for God. While many UU’s find little meaning in the concept of God, most would agree that savoring the experience of nature, whether connected with God or not, is a spiritual -- if not a downright religious – experience. In fact, connection with nature may be the most widespread way that UU’s identify spirituality. We agree that savoring the world is a religious sentiment. And not just the natural world. Beauty in all forms stirs us. A soaring symphony, or the gentle moan of a solo flute. The firm grasp of an infant’s finger. A moving photo of a loved one. A swirl of color and shape on a blanket or canvass. All is part of the world; and appreciation of it all is loving the world, taking us beyond ourselves, outside of ourselves – a religious experience. But is that all there is to religion? Appreciation of the beauty we find, whether on a mountaintop, in the voices of a choir, or the slobbery kiss of a beloved child? Even mystic connection and unity? Is that enough?
I rise in the morning torn between the desire
To save the world
or to savor it - to serve life or to enjoy it; Sometimes the struggle is between what I want to do and what I think I should do. All too often those impulses to make the world a better place come as a crushing sense of duty, shaded with guilt. I should volunteer at the Food Bank, we think, or help out the religious education program at church or give money to the Red Cross. I’m about to preach to myself here and to anyone else who might be, like me, one of those overly responsible types who always think I need to be doing more to help the world. Here’s my advice: Savor the world first. At our best, when we savor the world, find what we love in it, that love pours out naturally into making it a better place. We do that all the time with the people we love, don’t we? We don’t give them gifts or do things for them – especially the most meaningful thing -- out of obligation, but out of love. Too often we get discouraged because so much needs to change in the world. Greed, poverty, ignorance, grief, and fear conspire to make some people’s lives unbearable. They rise in the morning unable either to save or to savor the world. They can only try to live through one more day. Maybe some of you are there this morning. Vast systems of oppression and complex interrelationships of culture, law, and habit can leave people stuck there, unappreciated, unappreciative, unsalvageable. Problems like protecting children and family, eradicating poverty, lifting up those who are most defeated and discouraged cannot be settled with simple, one-shot solutions, whether political, cultural, or religious. Facing the tremendous challenge of saving the world can lead to frustration, anger, righteous (and unrighteous) indignation, and burn-out. Jesus told us the poor will be with us always. How can we even think of tackling the problems arrayed before us? Then, something comes along that reminds us that it’s not about fixing everything, that one step at a time is the way to accomplish the journey. I read in a church newsletter last week, a short poem written by a teenager I knew, a tribute to the parents who had adopted her out of a family permeated with substance abuse, child neglect, poverty, and desperation. Tears rolled down my cheek as I remembered celebrating her adoption as a preschooler. The couple who took her in could not eliminate substance abuse, child neglect, poverty, or desperation from the world; they could help one little girl. Or two – they adopted a second child. Really, they helped a lot more, as they served as foster parents for a lot of children. They didn’t do it, though, from guilt for the condition that children lived in, or to prove themselves good people. They did it from love – love for children and love for the world. In a former congregation of mine, we participated in an interfaith project serving homeless families, housing them in churches, feeding them dinner and breakfast, and providing support services. A couple of folks very involved with our social action program objected because such a program, they said, was a Band-Aid that didn’t attack the reasons for homelessness or poverty. Such an inadequate solution, they reasoned, only increased the loss of dignity for those who were poor and prevented real solutions from evolving. I didn’t agree then, and I don’t now. The real ultimate solutions are mysteries, at least to me. We will never save the world entirely. We will never end the misery and mortification that is part of the human condition. We will never even be wise enough to foresee the negative consequences of our best-laid plans. But, if our efforts to save the world come out of love for it, if we do what we can with what is in front of us, then our endeavors cannot help but succeed. We’ll make mistakes, sure, but love provides a trusty compass. Two weeks ago, a tragedy beyond belief struck on the other side of the globe. The power and amorality of the natural world burst out in blinding display. Death, sickness, starvation, grief, helplessness. And in the midst of it occasional heroism, and persistently, a realization of the preciousness of life, wonder, gratitude for being saved. Do we savor the world in response to a tragedy? Yes, disaster reminds us to say “I love you” when we feel it, to cling to the miracle of life, to notice and appreciate the beauty, and if it fits with your theology, even to thank God for your life, your family, your ability to wonder. And in appreciation, we cannot help but try to save the world, too, to reach out for someone else. Inspired by heroism of great proportions, we do our tiny bit. Writing a check may not seem like saving the world, but each tiny step, each act of goodness and hope creates a small light, a little window through which salvation may come, if not for the world, then for one person, or animal, or thing of beauty. The world works best when we pour out our love for it generously – through wonder and praise, through creativity and even hard work, and through acts of compassion and lovingkindness. Savoring the world and saving it are inextricably linked when living the religious life. I think of it as a circle. In appreciating the world, I discover the place where my passions intersect with the needs of the world. Thomas Merton engaged heavily in the active life as a young man, but worried about his own harmfulness to himself, he stopped and in his late twenties, became a Trappist monk. He wrote that through withdrawing from the world for contemplation, we find a way of caring more deeply, more compassionately. And, his own meditations, reflections and writing have inspired thousands to work towards establishing a more just world. It’s not just that appreciation leads us to act out our love for the world. In the same way, as we give back to the world, we have moments of clarity, reminders of how much we appreciate the world. Working for a better world has brought me deep friendships, appreciation of differences, inspiration from unexpected sources. The Quaker activist Parker Palmer, a devotee of both spirituality and social activism has written:
Our drive to aliveness expresses itself in two elemental and inseparable ways: action and contemplation. We may think of the two as contrary modes, but they are one at the source, and they seek the same end – to celebrate the gift of life…. When we abandon the creative tension between the two, then both ends fly apart into madness…. Action flies off into frenzy – a frantic and even violent effort to impose one’s will on the world… contemplation flies off into escapism – a flight frmm the world into a realm of false bliss. [The Active Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1990, p. 15]
I think that the mission of the church is help us love the world – to help us remember how lovely and wondrous and beautiful it is, even when we plunge momentarily into despair – to help us find what saves us from desperation – love beauty, truth. But that’s only a piece of it; the other piece of loving the world that the church helps us do, is to make ourselves better people and the world a better place. Emerson was speaking of this when he said: …what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of worship? Then all things go to decay. Genius leaves the temple to haunt the senate or the market. Literature becomes frivolous. Science is cold. The eye of youth is not lighted by the hope of other worlds, and age is without honor. Society lives to trifles, and when [people] die we do not mention them. The church reminds us to appreciate beauty, wisdom, and truth, while calling us to our responsibilities for others, the duty we strive to contribute because so much has been given to us. So, to save the world, or savor it? Both. And let them feed into each other. Savor the world – find what you love and lather it with praise. And ask, how do I share this great love I feel? Then do it. Share your savoring with others – offer your family and friends that which brings you beauty and truth and wisdom. If you’re a parent, love your child and help those sons and daughters grow into the best people they can be. At your job, find work you love and give it your best – your best work and your most ethical standards. Notice the gift of freedom you enjoy and in response, exercise your citizenship. In your leisure time, seek out what matters to you –whether climbing a mountain or singing a cantata -- and make your contribution, being sure to thank others who make theirs. At church, find your way and help others find theirs. Save the world or savor it? Your role and inclination may be towards one or the other. Either way, notice the love you have for the world, for this life. Let your love flow generously, saving and savoring. And the world will become a better place.
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