On Turning Rev. Roberta Finkelstein October 16, 2005 The Days of Awe have just ended. Those are the days in the Jewish liturgical calendar book-marked by Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, marks the day when the scrolls of fate roll open before God. On the scrolls you find every life as it has been written by every individual – choices made, words said and unsaid, deeds done and left undone. The rabbis tell us that God reads every entry and passes judgment on everybody for the year to come. In Herman Wouk’s words, “Who shall die and who shall live, who shall be rich, who shall be poor, who shall rise in the world, who shall fall, who shall live in peace, and who shall stumble in misery.” But the God of Judaism is not only judgmental but merciful. For this judgment is not final – everybody has 10 days – the Days of Awe – in which to search their hearts and lives, repent, do good deeds, and promise to learn from their mistakes. The end of this grace period is Yom Kippur. On that day, the scrolls roll shut again for another year, destiny sealed. In 2001, Rosh Hashanah fell just after the events of September 11. I remember reading about a Jewish congregation struggling to celebrate the New Year – a celebration usually marked by joy, baking honey cake, dipping apple slices into honey and offering the blessing “May God grant us a sweet life in the New Year.” One participant commented that their prayer, in that terrible time, was only for safety, not sweetness. Reading that broke my heart. The saddest and scariest times are the times when it is most important to pray for gladness. That’s why a liturgical calendar is so important. Rosh Hashanah comes every year, no matter what is happening in the world, and demands that we remember that joy does indeed come again, even to those who mourn. The Jewish High Holy Days also remind us of the importance of a regular practice of self-examination, an honest assessment of the quality of our lives – words spoken and unspoken, deeds done and undone, choices made. And that process does not come easy. This discipline of repentance, which is so important to our emotional and spiritual well-being, is particularly difficult for folks like us – Unitarian Universalists – children of the enlightenment, dedicated to the use of reason in religion. But even for us, some form of regular ethical and moral housekeeping is needed. For it is only by turning, ever so slightly, that we are able to find and reclaim our higher selves. Here’s another description of how Jews understand the High Holy Days. “We pause in reverence before the gift of self; the vessel shatters, the divine spark shines through. And our solitary self becomes a link in Israel’s golden chain. For what we are, we are by sharing. And as we share we move toward the light.” That is a powerful spiritual expression of the movement from the individual to the communal. The ancient Israelite understanding of the importance of community is one of their enduring gifts to Western culture. Author Herman Wouk writes about that sense of the communal in relation to Yom Kippur. “There is no machinery in Judaism for confession to a human being or for release from sin through an agency on earth. Confession in Judaism is a whisper of the entire congregation at once. It is confession in formal unison, no outpouring of one’s own misdeeds . . . The wording throughout is plural: we . . . us . . . our . . . Such usage in a piece of liturgy at the heart of a holy day cannot be an accident of rhetoric. It means something.” What it means, to me, is that ultimate meaning is found not in solitude, not in complete self-reliance, but in right relationships as a people. The Prophets of the Hebrew scriptures did not address themselves to men and women one by one, inviting them to personal salvation. They addressed themselves to the entire nation, insisting that as a group they reform, turn, remember what it was that made them into a people. They reminded the people when they were frightened of powerful enemies their safety and security could not be found in military might or wealth; but in keeping the covenant with each other and their creator. They reminded the people when they longed for an end to war that peace could not be found in political compromise or military might, but in creating just and compassionate societies. They reminded the people that salvation – wholeness – shalom – could not come from the mindless recitation of prayers or the empty repetition of rituals, but in living together by the terms of that ancient covenant defined by the teachings of the Torah. So often, those ancient Israelites strayed from the foundational ethical standards of their faith. So often they were tempted by the riches and glories of the world – more powerful weapons, bigger armies, taller buildings, gold and silver. And so often they remembered that when they turned from their covenant with Yahweh, grief befell them. They would ask, in despair, what God could possibly want with them. “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” And the answer, in the words of the prophet Micah, is so clear and simple. “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah6:6-8) The message is powerful but simple: remember the covenant that bestows your identity, remember the principles upon which your community was established, and make sure that they are not just lofty words and ideals, but are actualized in the day-to-day life of the community. Now you may be wondering how we’re going to get from ancient Israel, or even modern day Judaism, to the real issue of the day. The real issue being your own community, the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Fredrick. In the past few years, you have experienced a fair amount of conflict. Disagreements over the nature of ministry, and the person of the minister. Arguments about money – how much to spend, how much it is possible to raise, what is a reasonable financial plan. Some of the conflict seems to be generational – long time members having different needs and expectations than new families with young children. Some of it may be class based – the middle class spend and then figure out a way to pay approach vs. the more conservative ‘don’t buy anything you can’t already afford’ approach. And some of the conflict is theological – a reflection of recent UU history that has seen radical shifts in predominant theology from liberal Christianity to humanism to earth based spirituality. In all of that morass, many of you have probably been hurt or disappointed or even afraid. And many of you have probably said or done things you regret, or left unsaid or undone things you regret. Some of you are carrying grudges, nursing resentments, hanging back, reining in your passion and compassion until you can be sure that this is once again a safe place to be a Unitarian Universalist. Well, my friends, now is the time for turning. John Morehouse’s departure and your entry into the Interim Ministry program means that the scroll of fate has rolled open. There are many opportunities to acknowledge what has not worked, to heal hurts, to let go of resentments, and to make things new. We Unitarian Universalists may lack a liturgical calendar that calls us to self-examination and repentance. But in fact these are the Days of Awe for UUCF, and the good news is you get more than ten days to do the spiritual work that needs doing. In the upcoming months, you will have several opportunities to come to terms with history, to turn from unhealthy patterns, and to move towards communal health. The first is the history wall – behind you here in the sanctuary. The Interim Transition Team got it started, and we want all of you to add your memories. You will find index cards and tape. Please use them to record what you think of as the significant events in the life of the congregation. We ask that you speak for yourself, and respect that fact that others may remember the same event differently than you do. We ask for civil and responsible language, but most of all, we ask for your truths as you remember them. The History Wall will be up for about 3 weeks, and I will then take it down, and use all of our contributions to write a sermon in which I tell you back the story of your communal life. The second opportunity for turning comes in the form of the Community Conversations described in the insert in your order of service today. The sign-up sheets are on my office door, or you can call or email the office to sign up for one of them. These will be facilitated by me and the members of the Interim Transition Team – Dorothy Egbert, Dick Roblin, Carol Antoniewiecz, and Bill Sydnor. And finally, the potluck meals that the Stewardship Committee has invited you to. You may be surprised to hear me put these events in the category of opportunities for salvation.. But so much of the conflict in the past has been about money! I firmly believe that one way to heal the hurts of the past is to come together and talk about money in a different way. At these potlucks, trained stewards will talk to you honestly and openly about the state of the church. They will ask for your input, and your responses. And they will ask you to turn back towards UUCF by re-investing in your future. At these shared meals, the conversation will be respectful and honest and mutually affirming. The History Wall, the Community Conversations, and the Stewardship events are all chances for you to practice our principles with your fellow parishioners. We, like the ancient Israelites, need prophets who remind us of who we are, remind us of the nature of our covenant, the foundational ethical principles out of which our faith has evolved and upon which this church was built. We may be creedless, but there are bedrock values that we cannot discard without losing our sense of who we are and why we are here. In our radically free faith, we all can and should be prophets. James Luther Adams wrote frequently about the prophethood of all believers. Your congregational leaders are trying mightily to create a culture here that reflects our shared values and gives all of us the chance to live out our principles. The only catch is, you have to show up to reap the benefits. It is time to turn. If you have been hurt or angered by past events, it is time to speak that anger honestly and listen respectfully to those with differing views. If you have been lying low, trying to stay out of the fray, it is time to stand up and get back into the conversation, reclaim your place at the table. If you have said or done things that caused harm, it is time to acknowledge and repair the damage where possible, and get back to the business of building and sustaining a healthy liberal religious community. Now is the time for turning. Turn away from easy answers towards the full engagement of mind and heart. Turn away from diffidence towards the responsible exercise of church membership. Turn away from resistance towards the embrace of our human ability to change, to be transformed, to be better than we have been in the past. For as Jack Reimer reminds us, if you fail to turn, you will be forever trapped in yesterday’s ways. And you simply cannot afford to live anymore in the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of yesterday. I close with an adaptation of final lines from a prayer for the Days of Awe. “We pause in terror before the human deed: the cloud of annihilation, the concentrations for death, the cruelly casual way of each to each. But in the stillness of this hour we find our way from darkness into light. May we find our life so precious that we cannot but share it with the other, that light may shine brighter than a thousand suns, with the presence among us of the (Spirit of Life). Amen”