In this time of Hight Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur approaching, Rev. Liz will reflect on starting fresh even when so much has gone before and even when we are burdened. We can always prepare for what can be next, even for what can be new in this old world that claims nothing new under the sun. Come hear the welcoming notes of the shofar and other special music.

We are worshiping in person in the Meeting House starting at 10:30 am. Masks are welcome but no longer required. If you cannot join us in person, click here to tune into our YouTube channel at 10:30 am.

 

“Something New Under The Sun” – Sermon preached by Rev. Liz Lerner Maclay

First Unitarian Church of Providence, September 17, 2023

 

L’Shanah Tovah! Happy New Year! The Jewish new year started on Friday, and we are now in the Days of Awe leading up to Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. The Days of Awe are a time for going both inward and outward, doing all the preparation that comes with a fresh start and time of renewal, doing all the inward reflection that comes with taking stock and reckoning with our truths about where we did wrong, what we can do better, and who we must apologize to for any wrongs we did them. Then comes repentance, which is the result of all the inward work, actively going to those we wronged, admitting it, offering atonement, seeking forgiveness. Ideally, we are forgiven and the records are cleansed, our spirits are cleansed and renewed and we’re right with the world and in balance with the sacred.

I’ve preached on this before, so you may remember that two of the key aspects that differentiate Jewish theology are:

1. That forgiveness isn’t incumbent upon the wronged person; it’s not owed by them to the wrongdoer and can’t just be expected. This isn’t ‘turn the other cheek’ theology. Instead forgiveness must be actively sought and earned. Jewish belief honors the person wronged and says they may forgive or not, and if the repentance offered by the wrongdoer isn’t enough to move one to forgiveness, that’s too bad for the wrongdoer, not a failing of the person wronged. And that’s a big problem for the wrongdoer because…
2. Judaism holds that if we can’t make things right between us on this mortal plane, there is no divine forgiveness. There’s no confession that matters if it’s not to the person we wronged, there’s no ultimate redemption if it doesn’t involve the forgiveness of the person wronged. Whether we believe in God, or not, and howsoever we define the divine or not, it’s powerful to operate off an understanding that nothing matters more than how we all behave to each other here in this life, on this earth.

So the Jewish new year starts on a high note and quickly goes deep. I return to this because I think this theology holds so much promise, regardless of whether we have Jewish heritage or not. There is a profoundly humane aspect to these takes on wrong and right, sin and salvation, and direct responsibility being essential – it doesn’t let us off the hook by confessing our version to another, or saying prayers or performing acts of atonement apart from the person or people we wronged. Any of that can help but it won’t help enough to really free us unless such actions are just the first steps into a deeper exploration that can take us, eventually, to the person we need to talk to and work this through with – the person we wronged. All this is lifted up in this year’s Unitarian Universalist Association Common Read book: On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends In an Unapologetic World by R. Danya Ruttenberg, published by our own Beacon Press.

I am so pleased about this Common Read because R. Ruttenberg wrote this book for everyone. As she puts it: “This book is for … Jews and non-Jews; for atheists, agnostics, and theists; for secular people, spiritual people, religious people, and for everybody in between. We’ve all caused harm, we’ve all been harmed; we’ve all witnessed harm. We are all always growing in our messy, imperfect attempts to do right, to clean up, to repair, to make sense of what’s happened, and to figure out where to go from here. This is, I hope, a way into the work.”  (p. 16).

This book is too rich to sum up in one sermon. It’s based on the work of the great 12^th c. Jewish theologian Maimonides, reinterpreting his work for a modern, American context. It goes in depth into the various stages of this work: 1. Naming and Owning Harm. 2. Starting to Change. 3. Restitution and Accepting Consequences. Then and only then – 4. Apology. And finally 5. Making Different Choices. And there’s so much in each step for us to engage.

So what I’m doing instead, is introducing us all to it this morning, and then I’ll be exploring it further later this fall. But for this morning, I want to invite us all to consider two things.

First, think about this from the position of the wronged. We’ve all been there. The need we all feel for healing/resolution of hurts we have suffered – can we use those feelings – especially any yearnings we feel for apologies that never came, for repentance and amends that were never offered to us when we were wronged – can we use those feeling on that side of the equation to help us gain resolve to be the one to offer apology and amends in a different equation where we are in the wrong? What can the pain of one situation from which we suffer give us in the way of strength to address the different pain of a situation in which we have done wrong?

Second, I want to invite us to think about this in relationship to evolving UU theology. Unlike many other religions, Unitarianism and Universalism have always accepted and affirmed people as we are. We didn’t condemn people as full of sin, deserving of hell, and we didn’t say our church was the only way to find redemption and a hope of heaven. And I don’t believe we can abandon that affirming welcome which has been the hallmark of our faith. But we can maybe say, finding our home here, we are welcome as we are; and we are not required – but we are invited – to become more. Remember our reading by MIT physics professor Alan Lightman. As he says, moments are passing and we are part of a large family of noisy and feeling animals that has never stood still, has changed and evolved and will always do so, consecrating life and its possibilities, dreaming of unity and permanence even as the world fractures and fades, redesigning itself as we humans do also. So for us to say ‘you are beautiful and you belong, just as you are. Welcome, precious one.’  And also to say ‘we are called together, yes, for the blessings of community, and also to learn from each other and the blessings of many faiths and times and prophets, and also in that learning, to grow, to gain blessings and to give them, to take our place in the journey of evolution and consecration, of repairing and becoming’ – these are not mutually exclusive statements. Nothing is imposed, but so much is invited and possible and it is for us each to answer the call as we hear it, sometimes from deep within us, calling us to return and repair an old wound or wrong, sometimes from far beyond us calling us forward to something unimagined and amazing in all its possibility.

In selecting her book, our Unitarian Universalist Association is agreeing with R. Ruttenberg… and me (!) …that there’s richness here for all to mine in our own faith journeys. But what is really on my heart this new year is that this important model for our consideration is also really, really hard. For a lot of us, realizing we have done wrong feels awful. Engaging this can feel like opening to door to a big, smelly vat of guilt, mortification, disappointment in self, and lots of other oppressive ingredients depending on the circumstances. I don’t think I’ve spoken enough before about all that keeps us from doing it, and what might help us step forward into doing it. For instance, fear seems to be in the mix also, and it’s always tough to go forward into fear. R. Ruttenberg thinks the fear is because facing what we’ve done wrong confronts us with the ways we don’t live up to the story we hold about ourselves, where we’re the hero, always appropriate, fighting the good fight, doing our best in every setting. Instead, this confronts us with a different story told by the impact of our actions on someone else. It takes real courage to bridge that gap and face the ways we aren’t always who and what we believe we are.

And also, some situations are murky. Sometimes there isn’t clear-cut wrongdoing and blame – sometimes there are layers and complications and it’s challenging to suss our way through them all to clarity about where right and wrong live.

 

My mom and I had a difficult conversation this summer, after we had moved my parents from their independent living apartment to adjacent rooms in skilled nursing, thrown them a 65^th anniversary party and I was just exhausted by the work and heartbreak of it all. Both my parents’ health has been declining ever since Passover last April. In December my dad will turn 91 and my mom will turn 90, so none of this is surprising, but it’s sad and scary and frustrating and tiring, always dreading what’s coming next. Recently it had begun to feel like my mom only called if there was an emergency or if she needed me to buy something for her or schedule an appointment or resolve a problem. She wasn’t asking how I was or what was going on with me or anything about my life – just requests and needs and sometimes conflict if what was possible wasn’t what she wanted or needed. So things were feeling bad to both of us. But I knew that what she is going through is the worst – health issues that will not improve for her or my dad, ever-greater limitations on every front, even just their ability to be together which is the most important thing for them. So I wasn’t talking with her about what this was like for me. And she was feeling distance from me as I swallowed my own resentments and needs and tried to keep addressing her needs and concerns. About a month ago, Mom called with some requests and during that call she asked me how I felt our relationship was – because it was clearly not great. This is one of the best things about my mom – she is always courageous in relationships, always willing to name the tough thing. I was semi-honest with her, saying that I thought things were hard, but that it was understandable and we were both doing our best. And she said she felt like I was being distant. And then I finally came clean and told her that I miss my mom. That with everything going on, I have lost the woman who raised me and cared about me which is making me upset. But of course I understand that what she is dealing with is huge and incredibly tough and makes everything harder for her as each day passes and more of her health wanes. So it kind of is what it is.  I think I actually said that to her. “In the end, Mom, I know we’re both doing our best and it kind of is what it is.” I was both letting her off the hook and also bailing, leaving things in the place where they already were – sad and hurt and distant. But she wouldn’t leave them there. She said ‘oh you’re right. I remember being a mom.  I loved being a mom. And I haven’t done that in actually a long time now. But I can do better. I can put my mom hat back on. I’m sorry I’ve been letting you down. I love you so much and I will do better.”

Now this is not a big dramatic story about doing something terrible and finding forgiveness against all the odds. It’s not even a story about my own seeking of forgiveness. It’s just a small mother-daughter story about one conversation and trying to address small failings that come with being fallible and mortal. But for me it was huge. I felt like I got my mom back. And while her memory is often foggy lately about recent events in her life, she remembers that conversation clearly. I can tell because she has been calling and asking me how things are, what’s going on with me, my endeavors, this church, and so forth, which means so much to me.  I can tell because when I called her to ask her permission to tell you all about this, she knew right away what I was talking about and immediately told me I could share this with all of you.

All of which is to say: just starting this, even just about ordinary living, can be hard. Every step carries its own challenge. It can feel so much easier to just stuff it down, try to forget it – even though we never really forget it – turn away from it and just keep turning which can eventually feel like spinning – because it kinda really is. We can spin for a long time – months, years, decades, even lifetimes. Or we can try to wrestle with this internally, writing about it, even talking about it… to someone else – a priest, therapist, friend, stranger – but not the person themself.

But in the end, real reckoning, preparation, and direct confession and atonement with the person we need to address are where this journey should lead because that is the path that allows us to actually repair harm. And doing all that helps us grow closer to each other and to the better self we want to be.

The biblical book of Ecclesiastes 1:9, famously declares, so world-weary, that ‘what has been is what will be,

and what has been done, is what will be done;

there is nothing new under the sun.’

There’s a lot of wisdom and power in Ecclesiastes, but here I think the author misses the mark. There was no Democracy when Ecclesiastes was written. No Buddhism or Daoism or Islam. No racism, nor scientific method nor feminism nor human-produced climate change. Every so often there is something new under the sun that creates huge difference. If the change endures, some things will be different forever.

We are living in a moment of intense flux, full of consecration and possibility, uncertainty and reactivity. I truly believe this is a moment when something new under the sun may be being born within us, among us, a new sense of justice and inextricable connection, a transformative understanding of how we all matter together and what that means on this planet that is vulnerable and changing, for humanity that is vulnerable and can change, for each of us vulnerable and able to change as we all are. There may be something new under the sun being born right now, and in part it depends on what repentance and repair we can offer each other and ourselves. Some of it is individual and particular. Some of it is great and all-encompassing. But repentance and repair are in the balance on every level and the future is not written. And the pen is in our hand. And what we choose is what we are; and what we love, we yet shall be.

So happy new year.  Amen.