In the Shelter of Each Other
Reverend Janet Parsons
October 14, 2018
“It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.”
These are beautiful words offered to us by the Irish, who so often are sources of lovely language. In recent days I have found myself repeating this Irish proverb to myself, reflecting on it, and simply resting in the sentiment and the cadence of the language.
“It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.”
In recent weeks I have had multiple occasions to find myself sheltered when I needed a bit of help. Here’s just one: I travelled toward the end of August, and as so often happens, developed a cold just after returning home. A friend called one afternoon when it was at its worst, and commiserated with me. And then she said, “You know, I have some homemade chicken broth frozen – how about I make some soup and bring it to you?” I tried to object, but I wasn’t being sincere. She made the soup, and delivered it to the door. And I felt sheltered – warmed and healed by the soup, but also warmed by the generosity of spirit, the generosity of time and of willingness.
Our service this morning is just a bit different – you might have noticed that you have been given more opportunities to participate than usual, offering your thoughts during the Time for All Ages, and offering your wishes during our shared prayer. And to continue in this vein, of creating this worship service together, I am going to pause now, and invite you into a time of reflection. As we enter into a time of silence, I ask you to consider this question: “Think about a time when you have received generosity; when someone has extended their generosity to you. How did it make you feel?” Think about this question – how did someone’s generosity make you feel – and I’ll bring us back together with the sound of the singing bowl.
(One minute. Singing bowl.)
Each fall, this congregation, like many congregations from all different religious traditions, makes plans to finance itself for the coming year. This is a critical time, for we are self-supporting, and we need the promises, the pledges, of all of our members to be able to fund our operating budget for the year: to pay for the salaries, the building, the heat and the lights, and all the thousand things that keep a religious community running and doing its work in the world.
And of course, talking about money can make us very uncomfortable. Talking about money in church can make us especially uncomfortable: it is as though church is sacred and set apart, and above talking about money.
But it turns out that church is the perfect place to talk about giving, because generosity is a vital spiritual practice. The first syllable of the word ‘generous’, ‘gen’, means birth. We see it in words such as ‘generate’ or ‘generative’, meaning to be able to create, or to produce. We could say that generosity allows new things to be produced. In a congregation, that could mean new connections, new programs, new understanding about life and love. (drawn from Mark Ewert, The Generosity Path, Boston: Skinner House Books, 2014)
In addition to fostering relationships and growth, generosity leads to gratitude, which is one of our most important spiritual practices.
And what of the word itself: generosity? Well, it means a willingness to give more of something than is necessary or expected. ‘Generous’ means showing kindness toward others; freely sharing, being open-handed.
Does generosity, defined in these ways, sound as though it belongs in church? Absolutely: generosity leads us toward creating better connections. We Unitarian Universalists are called to this in our seventh principle: we affirm the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. Our faith tradition calls us to help create more love, more hope in the world. We connect with others through our acts of generosity, and it is our connections that encourage us to be ever more generous.
Truly, it is in the shelter of each other that we live.
I am going to offer you another period of reflection now. A few minutes ago, I invited you to think of how you felt on an occasion when you had been treated very generously. Now, I have another question for you, and it is this: “Think of a time when you were generous to someone, did something or offered something that was more than necessary or expected. And how did offering your generosity make you feel?”
(one minute – singing bowl)
And now that you’ve had a minute to think about that, I’m going to ask one more question, just for you to quickly consider – did you ever regret your generosity? Did you miss what you had given, or thought afterward, “I couldn’t afford to do that, it was a mistake?”
We have choices to make in the ways we lead our lives – we make choices for ourselves every single day. Will we be kind, or cruel? Will we be loving, or succumb to fear?
Will we choose an attitude of scarcity, or an attitude of abundance? This choice is closely related to the choice of fear or love. Fear creates a sense of scarcity. Look at our national debate over immigration. We have so much here in the United States. We live abundant lives. But fear is causing many Americans to want to limit our generosity, to limit our welcome to others who want to join us. People who feel that way are living fearful lives, where they focus on scarcity.
We Unitarian Universalists are called by our faith tradition to be generous, to connect, to be radically inclusive, to choose to live abundantly, with love and compassion. We are called to share what we have, to trust that we have enough, to have the faith we need to open our hands toward each other.
It is in the shelter of each other that we live.
Our church community provides shelter for us. That we are here at all, in this space, is because of the generosity of all those who came before us, who donated the land, and paid for the construction of this building. Remember the definition of generosity: offering more than is needed or expected? Those who dreamed this church into being didn’t need to build a bell tower tall enough to be seen out to sea, but they chose to care for their community, and indeed, chose to care for the whole worldwide community of sailors and fishermen who might be seeking a safe haven.
Today we are sheltered by each other: in gathering to share our progressive religious values, in connecting around our shared concerns such as justice, or the environment, in keeping an eye out for each other when we need some chicken soup, in providing space to mourn when we need to and space to be alone and to sit in silence when we need that. Here we provide all that shelter, all that refuge for one another. In the words of our UUA President, the Reverend Susan Frederick-Gray, this is no time for a casual faith, and no time to be alone.
We give when we can, and we take when we need to. And there lies the importance of the image of the open hand: you extend your open hand in order to give, but your hand must also be open in order to receive.
Today we begin our annual stewardship drive, when volunteers from among us reach out to all of you to ask you to pledge again to support the finances and the work of this church. Our visiting stewards, as we call them, are generously offering their time in addition to all the other ways they support our congregation. In seeking to meet with you, to talk to you about the church and its needs and visions, they are offering connection, a chance to get to know you better, and to create stronger relationships. This in itself is generosity. In the spirit of the open hand, I ask that you respond with your hands and hearts open as well, in order to strengthen the connection, in order to truly make your contribution into a spiritual practice.
Our church has many needs. Currently, the income that we raise from our pledges, from all of us, only covers slightly less than one half of our operating expenses. I’d like us, over the next month, to dream together about what we could do, who we can be, if we strengthen our financial commitment to our congregation. I’ll share a bit of my vision with you all: a children’s music program. A reputation as an important social justice resource; leaders who offer support and guidance to the larger community. Mission trips! A commitment to becoming an anti-racist and multi-cultural community. More adult programming: people leading small groups and classes. More fun events: gathering together simply for the fun of it, casually eating and making music together. As I speak these things out loud, I hear a common thread – again, of connection, offering, providing – not just to ourselves inside here, but to the wider community as well, opening our hands to Cape Ann and beyond.
This year I have increased my pledge by 20%. I am doing this because I believe in this congregation and in our future. I am proud to be your minister, and I want you to know that, and to show you that. I hope to hear from you about your visions, and how we can work together to make those visions into reality. And I am asking you to reflect deeply and carefully about your own commitment, and to join me in increasing your pledge, or in pledging for the first time, in order to secure our congregation’s future and make space for our visions.
Often people want to know what they should pledge. It’s a hard question to answer. We have a wide range of pledge amounts among us here, and only you can know what the right amount is for you. I ask that you make a pledge that reflects what this community means to you, and what is realistic for you to afford. If you can do that, then you will be pledging the right amount. There is an old expression: “Give till it hurts.” I would ask that instead, you keep the image of the open hands before you, and the idea of generosity, and give until it feels good.
I ask that you be people of abundance, and not scarcity. I ask that you be people of love, and not fear. And I leave you with this poem by the 14th century mystic Hafiz:
How
did the rose
ever open its heart
and give to this world all of its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light against its being,
otherwise we all remain too
Frightened. (Hafiz, “How Did the Rose,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky)
Turn to the light in all you do. Turn to the open hands, and extend yours in return.
Shelter one another.
Amen.
