A series of homilies given March 16, 2008

First Unitarian Church

Portland, Oregon

Brittany Rush

Good Morning. It's impossible to count the times that I have sat in this room.  I've seen the New Year’s dragon, passed the offertory basket and listened to a sermon or two.  After all of those hours passed in these seats as a sleepy child, impatient preteen and curious youth it's strange to be the one at the pulpit.  I am honored.

Growing up in a Unitarian church was quite the experience.  In a generation of video games and mindless consumerism coming to the church every Sunday was a contrast.  Once a week I trade in the mindless gossip and uncomfortable shoes that seems to plague the majority of teenage girls and enter into a safe-house of gluten-free brownies, bare feet and social change.  I come home to a world with mismatched cups and couches held together with duct tape and love; a place that treasures a critical mind and an open heart.  Through the years I have been subtly guided down a road edged in macaroni necklaces and paint-splattered hand prints towards such ideas as tolerance, responsibility and empathy.

But, in all the endless memories of fruit basket upset and church tag, I always seem to end up with one word: compassion. Inevitably the lesson of every game or story is that we are one and the answer is always love, no matter who stole your glitter glue. The idea that every person: attractive or not, intelligent or unintelligent, kind and cruel deserves love.

It is so obvious to me how the world should function, that kindness and love should prevail.  Outside these walls the world seems to have different ideas.  Selfishness and ignorance reign and the gentle voices in the world are too often overwhelmed.

In my life, running from school to work to sleep and back again, compassion inevitably gets pushed down the list.  In high school it is easy to become self-centered and superficial; it’s even expected.  At my age you can excuse cruelty and laziness with one word, “teenager”.  But I have found that it does not stop there.  At work you are expected to compromise and viewing people as commodities is standard.  Remembering to love everyone and everything around you is a bit more difficult in rush hour traffic. Keeping perspective in a world of disconnection and loneliness seems daunting in these times.

We can change today.  Against all we are programmed for we can talk to strangers, care and give to people regardless of status or stature.  Maybe if we all continue to do these things, pushing the faceless wall that seems to have come up between us and our fellow man and/or woman, one day it will break.  One day we will wake up to the people around us and realize that we are not so different after all.  Realize as a society of the world that we are responsible for every one and thing that walks, rides, scoots through this world.

But I have a trick.  For every slow checkout line and loud movie-goer there is a story; the angry bus driver just got divorced and the pushy telemarketer has a family of five to feed.  Imagining these little back stories reminds me to be patient; to have understanding and remember that everyone has inherent worth, remember that you are all my brothers and sisters.

And when I slip up, as we all do, when I get angry or frustrated at the woman with 32 items in the express lane of Safeway; I try to bring myself back to the thought that nobody’s perfect and universal love didn’t come overnight.

A Lesson in Acceptance

by Rachel Pomazal

I’ve been in high school for almost three years now and it’s taught me about people.  In high school, people are trying to find themselves; it’s the beginning to a journey that will go on for a lifetime with many twists and turns along the way.

The most important thing I’ve learned in the past three years is that no matter how different people are, there is always something amazing about them; you just have to be willing to look for it.

At the beginning of freshman year, I was given a crude nickname because people with mental disabilities are drawn to me. I resented this nickname and I couldn’t understand why people with special needs were so interested in me.  But just the same, I welcomed anyone to sit at my lunch table and stand in my circle.

The first (you may have to say – so-called) “different” person I came to know well in high school was Chris.  Chris was really funny and energetic and he made me laugh.  We had a game that we would play after science class.  There was a big stair well and it often got crowded with people between classes.  Right as the bell rang he would grab my hat and run off into the stairwell hiding among the people. I would make funny noises, often times bird calls and screech in between “I’m gonna find you Chris!” at this he’d let out a shrill giggly scream.  Every time I wore a hat we would play this game, it became our thing.  

He wasn’t like that with other people.  With most people Chris was shy and uncomfortable.  People avoided Chris and would ignore him in class and he treated them the same way.  When he was partnered with someone for a lab, they would complain so I asked the teacher if I could have Chris as my permanent lab partner.  Seeing that I worked well with Chris, he shortly agreed.  I could see in Chris a constant sense of detachment from everyone around him.  I, however, didn’t care that Chris was autistic, because I got to know the real Chris by being his friend.  Chris had a slight speech impediment and didn’t dress the same way as the other kids so they made fun of his differences and regularly mocked him in class.  Along with Chris, I felt outcast and humiliated.  I couldn’t understand why people would treat him that way.  He was my friend.

It was then and there that I decided that social boundaries don’t matter. If being popular in high school meant treating my friend like an outcast, than I’d have nothing to do with high school popularity.  There was nothing, and is nothing that could make me treat someone like Chris the way that the other kids did.

Along with Chris, I had the pleasure of getting to know another person really well in high school:  Mickey.  Mickey, like Chris, was autistic and often had trouble interpreting social cues.  She’d laugh at the wrong time or say things that didn’t make sense to other people, but after getting to know Mickey I could see how wonderful she was.  She had a sense of humor and was very positive. Though being around her was sometimes difficult, being her friend was worth the challenges.

We first met in Girl scouts.  We were in the same troop in the same district.  As Girl Scouts in high school, we stuck together as a minority. There were two other girls at our high school from our troop and the four of us looked out for each other.

Though Mickey was seventeen and I was fifteen, I was protective of her as if she was my little sister- so it went without saying that if someone did anything to hurt her, they would have me to talk to.

Toward the middle of the school year a boy started teasing Mickey. He lied and told her that he liked her and that maybe they could go out. Mickey didn’t know what was really going on, but I did.  This boy was the leader in a pack of so-called “popular” people.  He was already dating a girl that I knew of and she was egging him on in tormenting my friend.

After getting word of the goings-on and talking to Mickey, I confronted the boy.  I walked straight up to him, in front of his crowd, and said, “Does it make you feel good to torment people?  Do you enjoy hurting people who don’t understand?”  His smile turned to a frown; he started to say something and I put my hand up to silence him, continuing what I had to say.  “The next time you speak to Mickey, it will be an apology, and I’ll be there to make sure of it.”  At this I turned and walked away, allowing him time to soak up what I’d said.

The next day I was talking to Mickey in the hallway and he appeared with one of his friends without a sarcastic grin on his face.  He looked at me and then turned to look at Mickey and said, “I’m sorry for what I said and did. That’s not who I am.”  And he walked away.

I was surprised, but also felt hopeful, realizing that people can change.

By sophomore year, I began to embrace the fact that people with mental disabilities were comfortable with me and I developed a pool of friends with special needs.  I kept an open mind and discovered that these were amazing people, with brilliant ideas and very loving mentalities.  By treating people with the respect that is due to every human being on this planet, I learned the most important lesson of all; friendship knows no boundaries.

I’ve switched high schools and moved to a different district and predictably, the social hierarchy is the same.  People who are different are made fun of and people who go with the flow are accepted.  There are the same groups of “popular” kids and the same other groups of people.  One thing is different however; I’m there to stand up to the cruelty.  I will always stand up to it.  Everyone deserves to be here and be who they are.

My friend Mickey coincidentally switched to the same school prior to me and I get to see her every day.  She’s always so happy and it makes me happy to see her happy.  Since she started sitting with me and a few of my other friends at lunch, several other students from her special class have started sitting with us as well and I welcome them all with a hug.

One young man in particular, Dan, always makes me smile when I see him in the halls, and I’m sure he makes other people smile too.  Like me, he has a nickname.  They call him “the happy kid” because you never see him wearing a frown in school.  He often runs by me giggling to himself or making little happy noises.  I’ve never heard Dan talk, but I’m sure that if someone were to listen, they could learn a lot from him, just as I have learned a lot from accepting people.

Homily on 1^st and 7^th principles

by Duncan Ketel

The first principle of Unitarian Universalism is: The inherent worth and dignity of every person.  The seventh principle is: Respect for the interdependent web of existence of which we are a part.  These I believe encompass all of the other principles.  As an egalitarian I strongly support these principles.  However, little did I know that soon my own ideas and beliefs would be challenged.

With that in mind I present you with a story.

As I ate my lunch on a bright and warm Saturday my mind and conscience were clear. There was no thought; I simply sat and ate, and enjoyed the sunshine.  While eating I saw one of my friends from school walk into the same restaurant. “Hey Dan,” I shouted across the room. Dan looked around and saw who had shouted the greeting. Seeing me, he picked up his food and sat down next to me. Then we proceeded to eat our lunch and talk about our weekend; what had happened and what was going to happen. When I asked him about his weekend his response was a little different from an average teenager: “I spend most of my days working at my church.” I was slightly surprised. However, when thinking about it I realized I knew many kids who were very involved with their churches.

“Oh, cool, what church?” I asked.

“I work at the Church of Scientology, I’m a receptionist there. Do you want to come and see it?”

Since I wasn’t yet doing anything else I decided to follow him to his church.

I was quickly shown and told that in Scientology— along with the fact that they don’t believe in using prescription drugs to fix chemical imbalances in the brain— there are a lot of other components I didn’t know about that are integral to Scientology.  For instance, that Scientology is based upon spiritual enlightenment.  First you must purify your body, by jogging and taking the vitamin niacin.   Immediately afterwards, you are supposed to sit in a sauna and sweat out the other toxics.  After purifying your body, then you make spiritual atonement. This is done by being audited on a certain facet of your mind.  After going through that stage of auditing, there waits another stage of audits.  Once I'd been explained the basics of Scientology Dan gave me the tour of their facilities.  There was a chapel, and a replica of L. Ron Hubbard’s office.  He then showed me the reading room where I could go if I desired to learn more, or possibly convert to Scientology.

I’ll just say I was a little skeptical.  These ideas seemed a little out there, as well as the fact that in order to become completely spiritually pure, you had to have several sessions of being audited— each one of which would cost thousands of dollars. Furthermore, most people haven’t even reached the highest level of spiritual enlightenment.  After Dan had given me my tour he introduced me to some fellow Scientologists who recommended that I read Dianetics.  I told them I might, and said it was a pleasure meeting everyone, but I had to go and write a homily for my Unitarian church.  As I left, I thanked Dan again and looked forward to seeing him on Monday.

As I left I felt better.  I had gone into a church with entirely different spiritual views and not tried to start an argument or belittle anyone in there.  But as I was walking home a thought entered my head. Yes, Dan believed in something that some think is a cult religion, and I by no means agree with anything that was said to me in that church.  However, how does that make Dan any different from me?  Doesn’t Dan, the charismatic Scientologist, have as much inherent worth and dignity as everyone else?  If you removed our theological ideas and compared Dan to me side-by-side, I’m sure you would find many similarities.  And even if you didn’t find anything the same about us, does it really matter?

If each of us is all part of an interdependent web, then that means we're all connected.  So doesn’t that mean: if Dan is happy then that one part of the Web is happy, in turn making those around him happy, and in turn those around him who become happy then make other people happy?  I’m sure when people meet Dan for the first time they see a nice, friendly, and charming young man. I’m also sure that when they find out he’s a Scientologist, those very same people are repelled.  But if you stop and get to know Dan, you’ll realize that he’s just an ordinary guy.  He has ambitions; he also has times where he just hangs out— and most of all, he's a happy person.

My mom posed a question to me about my experience with Dan.  She said, even though he is happy, does that mean I should let him believe whatever he wants to and never offer my own opinions for him to reflect on?  I answered in this fashion: I will debate the merits of Scientology and other religions with Dan.  But, I will never tell him that his ideas are worthless, nor will I tell him that he as a person has no merit.  So for me the meeting with Dan is a perfect example of the first and seventh principles.

He may have an idea that I disagree with— however, that doesn’t mean he deserves any less respect from me than from his fellow Scientologists.  And if we really are all part of an interdependent web, then that’s just one more reason for me to not hinder Dan in his own personal journey.

Johanna Steinbrecher

On Thursday evenings, my mother’s circle of friends meet together in a little house in southeast Portland at an event they call the “Mormon Family Dinner.”  By no means is this group of people particularly religious; it is known by this name only because the gathering consists of at least 20 friends, and includes of a large amount of delectables.  Because it happens to be on a school night, I generally don’t have time to attend these dinners between homework and music lessons and such.  But when school year comes to a close, I sometimes go to these dinners with my mother on warm summer evenings.

Because the weather allows it, we eat out in the garden.  The house the dinner is held at is Tony and Shadow’s house.   In fact, I recall the dinner idea was Tony’s idea; he had wanted to give Shadow something to do besides keep up to date with the current basketball scores. Today, my mom has contributed to the meal her usual loaves of fresh French bread and packages of creamy white goat cheese.

We open the screen door with a squeak and are greeted immediately with smiles.  I find it almost overwhelming.  How do you greet so many people at once?  I take the bread to the counter and carefully slice it into little medallions.  I jab a knife into the cheese place it with the bread on a handmade earth tone ceramic plate.  Being that Tony is a potter, it’s no surprise that all the dishware is handmade; ceramics, actually, is what brought this group together.  My mom had met Mattie and Julie in a ceramics course that had been taught by Tony, and the group became friends.  I set the food down on a small end table in the garden and plop down in one of the many brightly colored folding chairs that have been arranged in a circle. I sit back.

The summer is in full bloom; the pond in the garden makes a soothing sound as it gurgles.  If you look closely, you can see the bright orange goldfish swimming about.  The sweet smell of the flowers of the garden waft about, mixing with the aroma of the roasted chicken Shadow is tending to on the grill.  Lola, Lily’s toddler, bumbles about in the fresh grass on her wobbly short legs, her curls glowing in the bright sun.  Julie talks about her next art project: right now she is using the old keys she found to make bracelets.

I do love this group of people.  They certainty are different then the “average Joe”, I think, as mom’s boyfriend Gordon explains to Jim and Janet of his recent travels in India while our friend Rabbit arrives in his tie-die shirt with his partner Steven.  I remember when I first met this group of people.  I really only got to know them after my parents split, and my mom began to spend more time with this group of friends.  At first, I remember feeling a bit weirded-out.  None of my other friend’s parents had friends such as these.  Now, however, I can boast to be more open-minded.  The diversity really is what makes the group what it is.  It gives this group this indescribable feeling of completeness; had one aspect of the group been absent, the group just would not be the same.  It is because each person is different that the group is as special as it is.

Their group reminds me of this church.  I found the diversity to be a bit overwhelming when I first came here, 4 years ago.  I remember wondering, how could this be one community, if it was so diverse? But, like the Mormon Family Dinner, I really have come to appreciate and truly understand the diversity.  

Our diversity in fact, is what makes us one community—a whole.  How could one look into the sanctuary to see us singing together and say that we are not one community?  True, we are not as homogenous as other churches or congregations, but that is what draws me to this church so much.  We are accepting of many different ideas, and this gives this church a welcoming feeling that you seldom find anywhere else

When I come here, I know that I can be myself and I will be accepted for who I am.  I can add to the diversity and know I will not be judged. It is that diversity that makes us, who we are, something very special and unique, and sacred.

We are, after all, Unitarian Universalists.
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Copyright 2008 by the Youth Program.  All rights reserved.