A Sermon by Bruce Maxwell given March 7, 2013

When our children and grandchildren moved to northern California, I retired from my job as Special Assistant to the Provost of Morehead State University. My wife and I packed up the house and two horses and as our ancestors before us, we rolled west.

When you have two horses, you have to have a barn. We built a barn in Kentucky for a total cost of $13,000. You can imagine our surprise when the estimate for the materials and fees for our new barn in Lakeport was over $14,000.00. So “we” decided that, to save hiring another laborer, I should devote myself exclusively to assisting the contractor in building the barn. Now I am an intellectual and have no building skills, so what I want to share with you today is my experience and the building lessons I have learned.

An early lesson was that someone has to know what they are doing. The skill in building is not in being able to cut and install boards. True talent is having the ability to bring twisted, warped, and damaged boards back into plumb as they are installed.

John, the contractor recommended to us, has proven to be a Master Builder. The problem with hiring a Master Builder is that it’s never too late to add a special feature. I know you have heard of the Taj Ma Hall? Our barn has transitioned from a simple three stall barn with a hay loft, into a three story Taj Ma Barn. It has ten doors, seven windows, six faucets, six eye brow vents, a sink, a toilet, a dusk-free tack room, and a 3^rd floor cupola. Now I can guarantee you that on the original plans submitted to the County there was no cupola. The real problem with a Master Builder is that he can add any special feature my wife thinks up!

Material suppliers quote you a price, but that’s not what it’s going to cost. My wife spent over a week getting bids from various suppliers and not one of them included everything she asked for, even though her request was in writing. For example, we needed seventeen 20 foot 2” by 6” redwood boards for fascia. When they showed up at our house, the bill for that wood alone was over $500 dollars. For 17 boards! That’s $30 dollars per board. What are they, hot dipped in platinum?

I realized what suppliers are doing by not giving you what you ask for. 1. They are trying to make sure they have the lowest bid, so they leave things off on purpose! 2. They want to sucker you into building this Taj Ma Barn before you realize how much it’s going to cost. By then it will be too late and you will have to finish the project whatever the cost.

I learned that tools are not what they appear to be. While tools seem to be man-made, inanimate objects, they are not. We create them and give them purpose, but then they take on goals and objectives all their own. For example, I am certain that the numbers on my tape measure move. Many have been the times when I cut a board to exacting specifications and then when I went to install it, it didn’t fit! Usually, it was way too small requiring me to cut a second board. The only possible conclusion I can come to is that the numbers on my tape measure moved!

A lesson on tools I learned early was never buy a cheap tool. When buying tools, you should always buy the most expensive model you can afford. By purchasing an expensive tool, you pay for an ally that will be on your side in the building battle.

Two of the most valuable tools of the builder are the Cat’s Claw and the Flat Bar because they are the enemy of nails. With these tools in your belt, you can wage battle with an army of crooked nails.

It’s natural when you are nailing things to put nails in your mouth to make them readily available. It turns out that when you put galvanized roofing nails in your mouth and you also have amalgam fillings, a chemical reaction occurs that gives you an alarming electric shock. The first time I did that you should have seen the look on the contractor’s face when I suddenly spit nails across the roof!

Some nails are strong and drive true and others bend at the slightest whack. And of course, the ones that bend then grow roots and cannot be pulled out no matter how little of the nail actually went into the board.

I decided that I wasn’t hitting them hard enough. I had started with a wimpy 16 oz hammer. Then I bought a 20 oz hammer. Then I bought a 23 oz hammer. Now that’s a real man’s hammer. After hammering hundreds of nails, I now have forearms like steel! I should mention that I’ve lost 35 pounds building this barn and my wife seems to really like me better when I wear my tool belt!

You’ve all heard of Murphy’s Law. That’s the one that says, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong?” I can guarantee you that Murphy’s Law is alive and well on my construction site and just waiting for an opportunity to mess with me!

You can imagine my horror and fascination as I watched an expensive cordless skill saw leap from the third story roof on its way to shatter on the ground below. Or to stand helplessly while an entire sixty pound package of shingles slides in slow motion down the roof and over the edge.

To combat Murphy’s Law, you should take every precaution you can think of, to prevent something from going wrong. For example, don’t frame in that “special feature” window until you actually have the window insert in hand, otherwise you can be certain that you will be unable to purchase a window the size of the frame you have made.

As Unitarian Universalists, we are all builders. We are all architects of our beliefs, actions, and the values upon which those are based.

We are independent thinkers who rely on our own intelligence and intuition to tell us what is true. We need the freedom to share our thoughts and beliefs with others and we expect others to be willing and able to listen and respond with their own ideas.

Because we are liberal thinkers who care about the world, the environment, and each other, we often have different answers than our peers. We believe that we are all striving to become whole, well-rounded beings, who are both logical and emotional, quiet and expressive, determined and laissez faire, able to speak our minds and also listen and identify the truth.

These qualities and capabilities do not come easily. They must be discovered or invented and then put on like a cloak and tested. If they fit, we make them our own, if they don’t we cask them off and search anew.

We don’t know, we don’t think anyone “Knows” but we’d like to know, and so we think and explore ideas looking for truth. We roll concepts around in our mind and on our tongue to see how they resonate and how they feel. We look at them logically, we research their background, we survey, test, and assess.

The world is full of answers. Religions, politicians, libraries, they are all full of answers. The problem is not the answers, it’s the questions. You don’t know what you don’t know, so the challenge in life is discovering the questions. All of this effort, all of this work, all of this bewilderment aids us in becoming a UU.

I want to leave you with a summary of the great life lessons I have learned through this building experience:

1. Sometimes you get a second chance to do it right.

2. People will forget your mistakes, but they will never forget how you acted while you made them.

3. Mistakes and low points in the day, teach us lessons we could not have learned any other way.

4. Even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.

5. There will be times when you will not know why you are told to do something, but you must have faith that the action was necessary

6. While in school you are taught a lesson and then tested on whether or not you learned it. In life, you are given a test that teaches you a lesson.

7. Working for a living is not the same as working at living.

8. I’ve learned that I have good ideas too!

9. No matter how much you screw up, no matter how bad you feel about what you accomplished today, the barn will get built, and tomorrow or the next day, you’ll make more progress, learn a trick to make it easier, and just because I am not skilled at building today, does not mean that I won’t be better skilled tomorrow.

10. Finally, just like experiences in life, boards twist and warp in unexpected and frustrating ways, but life experiences teach you lessons and all boards are useful for something.

For me, this experience of building a barn has allowed me to work outside my comfort zone. I didn’t really take this on by choice, but I’m the type of person that tries to see the good in the cards I’m dealt. And this experience of building a barn has helped me to grow as a person and to become a better UU.

I can only encourage each of you to embrace life lessons outside your comfort zone. Let yourself be challenged to grow as I have been challenged. If you need help stretching yourself, come see me, my barn is not quite done and I could use the help!

Thank you all for letting me share my aches and pains with you!

by Linda Guebert

Sermon originally presented August 2, 2009. Revised slightly and presented again February 17, 2013

*************

It is impossible to go through life without bad things happening to us. Almost all of us will, at some time, suffer the loss of a loved one, health problems, economic set-backs, or any of a number of other unwelcome events. Some of us will have to deal with tragedy.

On May 11, 2000, Ken, my husband of only nine months, was killed in a traffic accident. He was returning home from work in Napa when his truck left the road for no apparent reason and hit a tree.

         This horrible event changed my life and set me off on a long journey – a journey through sorrow, anger, hope, despair, and ultimately, healing. It is a journey that is not over yet.

As part of this journey, I’ve written a memoir called The Hardest Thing I’ll Ever Do. The title comes from a song written by Eugene Williams and sung by Bob Seeger, which goes “Trying to live my life without you / It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do.” All of the chapter titles in the book are from the lyrics of popular songs: “There Goes My Reason for Living,” “Why Do the Birds Go on Singing?” and so on. I’m pleased to say that I am in the final stages of publishing the book, and it should be out in a couple of months.

I wrote the memoir not only because I knew it would be good for me, but more  because I hoped others would benefit from hearing about my experience and some of the insights I have gained. I don’t in any way see myself as an expert. What I have to offer is my own personal take on things. But I hope that something I have to say will be useful to others – and useful to you today.

What I will be primarily sharing with you are selections from the last chapter of the book, which is a refection on the experience as a whole. The title of the chapter is “What a Long, Strange Trip It’s Been.” Some of you may recognize these Grateful Dead lyrics:

Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me

                                    What a long, strange trip it’s been

********

         Many self-help books on grief and grieving give the impression that you progress along a straight path through a series of stages – disbelief to denial to anger to acceptance, or some variation of that – but it certainly hasn’t been like that for me. I may have experienced all the stages at one time or another, but they haven’t stayed in order and they haven’t been predictable.

Feelings don’t just stop and start. They recycle and transform. You think you’re finished with one, and it pops up again months or even years later, with such force it surprises you. Another emotion, content to take the backseat for a while, suddenly wants to be the driver again. Sometimes I felt like I had multiple personalities and never knew which one would be out. Even now I am occasionally taken aback by unexpected tears or a crack in my voice when I speak about my experience, or offer comfort to someone else, and there are still times when I experience deep rage against the unfairness of what happened to me.

I have never liked the term “finishing grief.” When I lost my love, my life, my future in that one tragic act of fate, it caused repercussions that will reverberate as long as I live. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I’ll say, “Ah, yes. Now I’m over it. Now it’s finished.” It will recede more and more into the background – it’s already done that to a large degree – but it will never be gone. How could it? It has marked me as surely as a branding iron.

********

         Coming to terms with grief and finding a role for it in my life was the major work of bereavement for me. Expressions like “getting over it,” “letting go,” and “moving on,” although I’ve used them at times myself, have never held strong resonance for me. Along with “finishing grief,” they seem to be based on a model that sees grief as something that needs to be overcome, or gotten past, whereas I have always felt that my grief was something that I had to take into myself, that I had to make a part of myself. For a long time I referred to this process as “incorporating grief.”

Now I prefer the term “integration.” From its original presence as an unwelcome guest that had to be accommodated whether I wanted it or not, my grief has gradually become unseparated from the rest of me. It is no longer the dominating, controlling force it once was, but now exerts its influence for the most part in a constructive and helpful way, allowing me to offer heartfelt comfort and consolation, and to feel compassion in ways that were previously unknown to me. It provides me with a link to every grieving person in the world, an empathy with other sufferers so strong that it sometimes takes my breath away. In contrast to the self-centeredness of early grief, my “integrated grief” moves me away from myself, turning me outward instead of inward.

Integrating grief has been hard work. It has taken tremendous effort, much of it below the level of consciousness, to tame this unruly emotion and create a place for it. It’s not really surprising that after Ken’s death my energy level was often low, or that while I made a point of staying involved in activities, I sometimes felt that I was only half there. A part of me was busy elsewhere, struggling to process what was happening to me, trying to “take it in” without letting it destroy me. Integrating grief requires time, and introspection, and suffering – and the support of others, especially those who have been there before.

I believe that the process of integrating grief is ongoing. I expect it to continue for the rest of my life. In a certain sense, it has become my life’s work.

********

         Many of us, especially those of us who were young in the sixties, have bought into the idea that our lives are under our control. We’ve operated under the assumption that we are entitled to happiness and self-fulfillment, and that if things are not going right, something can and should be done about it. The idea that suffering must be endured – may even be necessary for personal growth – is almost foreign to a lot of us, associated with the bygone era of our grandparents and great-grandparents, who, unlike most of us, lauded self-sacrifice and self-denial as virtues. I’m not suggesting that there weren’t sorrows or disappointments in my life, but before Ken died my overall approach was that anything could be dealt with somehow. As an “empowered” person, I only needed to figure out how.

Ken’s death was different for me. First of all, there was absolutely no way to opt out of the situation – no way to say, “I’d rather not do this right now.” Nor was there an immediate course of action to take. The accident was his fault – there was no one to bring suit against, no agency to complain to. I couldn’t move to a different place to get away from it, or counter its effects with some proactive plan. Nothing I did or didn’t do could change the fact that Ken had died, I was alone again, and I was going to have to suffer. I wasn’t used to having such meager options.

At a grief therapy group about a month after Ken’s death, I tried to express this realization by saying that I knew I had to accept what had happened to me because I had no choice. The leader, apparently interpreting this as a defeatist attitude, insisted that I did indeed have choices: I could choose to learn from the experience – use it as an opportunity for growth, etc., etc. – or I could choose to live my life in bitterness and anger.

Even though what she said was of value to me later, I remember feeling annoyed and frustrated at the time. These didn’t seem like choices to me. What good were choices when none of them was anything I wanted to do? I didn’t have the choice to have Ken back, to continue the life plan I had finally managed to set in motion. I didn’t have the choice to be married and not a widow. I didn’t even have the choice to avoid what I knew would be at least a year of grieving, and which turned out to be much more.

Admitting that I had no choice but to accept what had happened to me was not a statement of defeat or powerlessness, despite how it may have sounded. I wasn’t giving up the struggle, or the hope for the future, or anything like that, but I was giving up the illusion that my life, at least the circumstances of my life, were under my control – a cherished but untenable notion I had held for a long time and which had at times laden me down with guilt when things didn’t go right and I blamed myself. Ken’s death and the horrible way it happened made me realize what many others before me – including those little-known ancestors whose complacent attitude I’d earlier scoffed at – were well aware: that a lot of things happen in life that are beyond our control, and some of them require us to suffer.

And there’s not really a hell of a lot we can do about it.

********

         When it first happened, Ken’s death seemed to me like some giant cosmic mistake. I remember shaking my fist at the heavens, saying, “Somebody up there ought to lose their job!” I couldn’t think of one person who was better off because of his death, couldn’t see anything but misery and heartache for those he was close to. Like everyone else in a similar situation, I made that anguished cry: “Why? Why did this happen?” and especially, “Why did it happen to me?”

It’s only natural to want to find meaning when something tragic happens, to believe that there must be a reason for what we are going through. People do their best to comfort us with explanations. One friend, for example, told me that Ken was taken because he was so good. Nonsense. He was no better or worse than thousands of other people who didn’t die. Another said that Ken’s purpose on earth was to help me through the radiation treatments I’d had the year before. What sense did that make? The grief I was going through was far worse than the radiation treatments. Who was going to help me through that?

Sometimes I had to wonder if people were simply trying to work out their own theories of why bad things happen. In one instance I’d admitted to a close friend that I’d often worried about Ken being in a car accident whenever he was late, and this person – no longer a close friend, incidentally – blithely told me that “thoughts can influence actions, you know.” And in the reverse of this, when I told another person that I wasn’t worried about Ken that particular day because I thought I knew where he was, she said, “Well, I always say that’s when these things happen – when you don’t worry about them.” Either way, according to them, my thoughts were responsible.

Almost worse was the insistence that everything happens for a reason, but unfortunately, you don’t get to know what it is. Maybe you’ll find out sometime in the future, but maybe not. I know that the idea of a overall plan to account for the vagaries of the universe comforts a lot of people, but it never did much for me.

In the early months after Ken’s death (and several times later) I read the classic book on the subject, When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold S. Kushner (in our UUCLC library). It is without a doubt the most useful of all the resources I consulted. “Bad things that happen to us in our lives do not have a meaning when they happen to us,” Kushner writes. “They do not happen for any good reason which would cause us to accept them willingly. But we can give them meaning. We can redeem those tragedies from senselessness by imposing meaning on them.” In effect, he says, “Why did this happen to me?” is the wrong question. What we should be asking is “Now that this has happened to me, what am I going to do about it?”

Even when I first read these words, I knew that they were right on target, but acting on them has been a challenge. In the day-to-day survival struggle of early grief, and in the later slog through the mire of despair and depression, I found it difficult to deal with such an abstract concept. What exactly is involved in imposing meaning on an experience? How does one go about it? And perhaps most important – assuming that I could do it – what meaning did I want to impose on my experience?

It took me a long time to realize what Kushner was talking about. To give meaning to the tragedy – that’s why he wrote his book, and that’s why I wrote my memoir. And that’s also why I don’t like the idea of “finishing” grief. This experience has been so powerful, so life-altering, that it is crucial to me that something enduring come out of it, something that can continue as a vibrant and productive force in my life.

But while I have certainly gained personally from what I’ve gone through, I have never been able to foresee a future where I will view what happened to me as a good thing. Or even as an alright thing. I’ve learned a lot, yes, but I’d just as soon have remained ignorant.

Kushner deals with this, too, in the few sentences in his book that have really stuck with me. After saying that he is now a more sensitive person, a more effective pastor, and a more sympathetic counselor because of his son’s life and death, he surprises the reader by stating very matter-of-factly, “And I would give up all of those gains in a second if I could have my son back.”

If I could choose,[he continues], I would forego all the spiritual growth and depth which has come my way because of our experiences, and be what I was fifteen years ago, an average rabbi, an indifferent counselor, helping some people and unable to help others, and the father of a bright, happy boy.

Years after his son’s death, after his thoughtful, questioning journey and the completion of his monumental book which has helped countless others – even after all that, he says he’d rather have his son back.

But he knows it’s not possible.

I know that it’s not possible for me to have Ken back, either, even though I would give almost anything if I could. Like Kushner, I would forfeit all I’ve gained through this experience to be planning a future right now with the man I love – who, no matter what else happens in my life, I will always love.

I know that I have grown personally since Ken’s death. I have insights about grief and bereavement that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t suffered through them myself, and I am more sensitive, especially towards those in similar pain. I have developed inner resources and confidence that I would never have needed if I hadn’t had to face a loss of this magnitude.

But Ken did not die so that I could become a better person, however consoling it may be to think that. Such a statement imposes meaning on the tragedy before the fact, so to speak, and is ludicrous as well as egocentric. But what I can say is this: Ken died, and as a result, there is now something valuable in my life, something that would not otherwise exist, that I can share with others.

That is the legacy of Ken’s death for me. That is the meaning I have chosen to give it.

My husband Jonathan Donihue and I are going to move to Ashland, Oregon. It has been my privilege to administer the UUCLC Lending Library. I will treasure the experience (my first real “librarian” job and an opportunity to put my studies into direct practice).

Cynthia Parkhil
UUCLC Lending Library
February 2013 

The Rev Charles Harlow went to Crozer Theological Seminary with Martin Luther King Jr. Rev. Harlow is now retired and a member of our congregation. Fortunately for us at the Unitarian Universalist Community of Lake County, we get to hear him preach every once and awhile with the same fire as his classmate. Here he is interviewed by Clovice Lewis Jr. (who also inspires as King and Harlow) about his friendship with MLK.

Filmed January 20, 2013

Tending the Soul’s Garden (Dancing TreePeople Publications, 2011) by Lake County author Denise Rushing is the January 2013 featured book in the UUCLC Lending Library.

Tending the Soul’s Garden is an introduction to applied permaculture, offering an innovative way to engage in the difficult and transformative work of our time. It is dedicated to cultivating the soil of our inner garden so that we may bring forth abundance in our lives and our world.

According to Rushing, permaculture (permanent agriculture), also known as ecological or regenerative design, offers a path — a design for living in complex changing systems using principles found in nature.”

Rushing  is an environmental engineer, organic grower and permaculture designer in Lake County. An engineering graduate of Stanford University, she studied environmental science and later earned her Master’s Degree in culture and spirituality from Holy Names College.

Rushing’s business career as an energy-efficiency technology executive spans two decades. More recently, she was elected to local public office on a platform of stewardship of the land, water and resources.

Today, Rushing “gardens” on her farm, in her community and within organizations. Her personal mission is to empower the positive transformation of people and places through insight, inspiration and permaculture.

Cynthia Parkhil
UUCLC Lending Library
January 2013

In The Political Mind (Viking, 2008), George Lakoff, author of Don’t Think of an Elephant!, argues that the political divide in this country is not just about money, geography, religion or even power.

According to Lakoff, the political divide reflects an even deeper divide in how Americans understand the world, resulting in two competing modes of thought when it comes to governing our country. One is fundamentally democratic and one is fundamentally anti-democratic. And the anti-democratic mode of thought — better funded, better organized and more thoroughly established — has been winning.

Lakoff is Richard and Rhoda Goldman Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California, Berkeley and senior fellow at the Rockridge Institute.

Cynthia Parkhill
UUCLC Lending Library
December 2012

The Unitarian Universalist Association has released a study guide for its 2012 2013 UUA Common Read selection, The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander (The New Press, 2012):

“In this remarkable book, civil rights advocate and litigator Michelle Alexander asserts that crime-fighting policies and systems in the U.S., such as the ‘war on drugs’ and the incarceration system disproportionately and intentionally affect Americans of color. She describes multifaceted, lifelong discrimination and disenfranchisement that affect people who are branded ‘felon.’”

The UUA Common Read invites participants to read and discuss the same book in a given period of time. Its previous selections, Acts of Faith by Eboo Patel and The Death of Josseline by Margaret Regan, are both available in our UUCLC Lending Library. As stated by the UUA:

“A Common Read can build community in our congregations and our movement by giving diverse people a shared experience, shared language, and a basis for deep, meaningful conversations.”

The UUA Bookstore offers group discounts on The New Jim Crow. Study guides for UUA Common Read selections can be accessed from http://www.uua.org/re/multigenerational/read/index.shtml.

Cynthia Parkhill
UUCLC Lending Library
December 2012

Many of you know that in some of my previous sermons I’ve tackled such heavy subjects as torture, justice, and the nature of reality. When thinking of today’s topic I thought, why not talk about something really difficult, like joy.

Here are some definitions of the word:

Intense and especially ecstatic or exultant happiness.

The expression or manifestation of such feeling

A deep feeling or condition of happiness or contentment

Something causing such a feeling; a source of happiness

An outward show of pleasure or delight; rejoicing

The emotion evoked by well being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires: delight

The expression or exhibition of such emotion: gaiety

A state of happiness or felicity: bliss

A source or cause of delight

Here is how some have described joy:

Agitated with delight as a waving sea -Arabian Nights

Exhilaration spread through his breast like some pleasurable form of heartburn -Nadine Gordimer

Bliss … as though you’d suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle -Katherine Mansfield

Ecstacy warm and rich as wine -Harvey Swados

Enjoy life like a young porpoise -George Santayana

Her heart became as light as a bubble -Antonia White

Joy … felt it rumbling within him like a subterranean river -André Malraux

Joy leaping within me … like a trout in a brook -George Garrett

Joys … like angel visits, short and bright -John Norris

There is much written about joy. I like this description by Jerry Rosser on his “Psychology of Joy” website, “Joy is a unique state of consciousness that generates a heightened, sustained happiness that is at once subtle serene and yet dynamically active. Joy is a unique synthesis of elation of feeling, lucidity of thought and positive intention. Joy is a special wisdom that creates a clarity of understanding which can guide our choices in life to create even more joy, deepen our sense of self and bring a dynamic aliveness, meaning and intelligence to our relationships and creative expression.”

Usually, the description about a feeling of joy is that it is fleeting or impermanent. A question that commonly arises is “How can one stay in the state of joy”? That question is equally as many times answered, as “You can’t stay in a state of joy.” That answer is always taken on its face… it is not challenged, but simply accepted as a truth. But I’m not so certain about that. I’m not playing with semantics here, but I believe people too often confuse ecstasy for joy. Ecstasy is a state of intense joy or delight. It is so intense that one is carried beyond rational thought and self-control. And that definitely doesn’t last for long.

You see, I believe you can stay in a joyful state if you make a practice of finding joy. Put another way, you can live in a general state of happiness that is punctuated by joyful experiences. Those experiences can be sought out and incorporated into your life. The key is conscious attention to the way joy operates.

Notice that joy is most often experienced when it is shared… when in, connection with or relationship to someone or something else. In Buddhist practice, this is called mudita, meaning happiness in response to a person’s happiness, success, or good fortune. This is a genuine feeling of happiness, not one that is forced. I believe that to experience more joy in our lives we can adopt a simple strategy of feeling happy for another’s happiness. A Buddhist sutra points out that, “a single lamp may light hundreds of thousands of lamps without itself being diminished.” A Swedish proverb says “shared joy is a double joy.”  And William Shakespeare wrote “joy delights in joy”.

In an article entitled “Appreciating Joy” Marcello Spinella wrote of this shared quality of joy that “Appreciative joy is the closest we will get to a free lunch. As the Dalai Lama has said, when we feel happiness in response to another’s happiness, our odds of being happy go up by about 6 billion to one. The Buddhist monk Nyanaponika Thera said, ‘your life will gain in joy by sharing the happiness of others as if it were yours.’

However, appreciating joy is not limited to appreciating the joy of others. We can also feel joy in response to our own joy. We may feel happy about some circumstance, and then feel happy about feeling happy, the exact same way we would feel happy for someone else. Why not get the most out of it?

Feeling joy nourishes us, and gives us more reserves to deal with difficulties when they come along. Besides, in experiencing our own joy, we in turn radiate that towards others as we interact with them, making a contagious and virtuous cycle.”

Another way joy operates is that it is often disguised as something else. Watch out for this. Contentment, equanimity, tranquility, a sense of well being, happiness, enjoyment, altruism, amusement, playfulness, gratification, delight, comfort, harmony, satisfaction, warmth, euphoria, and elation are all likely suspects, especially if these emotions persist for a period of time.

Joy is contagious. It spreads like wildfire between anyone it is shared with. A research study performed by Harvard and MIT researchers documented that the spread of happiness (or sadness) is contagious, with spreading patterns similar to communicable diseases like the flu. They found that being full of joy is not only good for you, but also for those around you. Researchers conducted multiple studies associated with joy that scientifically prove physical benefit of being joyful. A group of American psychologist discovered that positive thinkers live 7.5 years longer than more pessimistic people. Having a positive attitude towards aging has proven to have greater effect than physiological measures like blood pressure and cholesterol. And, of course, we’ve all heard of the studies that conclude laughter helps overall health.

Joy is an aspect of love. You could say they are kissing cousins. It is one of the profound ways that joy operates, and is manifested. Most of us know, or can easily bring to mind, the thrill of love in all of its flavors – romantic, erotic, platonic, familial, religious, and agape. We actively seek out the pleasure of those deep connections we have with others. Psychologist Erich Fromm maintained in his book “The Art of  Loving” that love is not merely a feeling but is also actions, and that in fact, the “feeling” of love is superficial in comparison to ones commitment to love through a series of loving actions over time. In this sense, Fromm held that love is ultimately not a feeling at all, but rather is a commitment to, loving actions towards another, ones self, or many others, over a sustained duration. I would say that joy operates in a similar manner to love… that both emotions, or feelings, are, as Fromm says, more of a commitment to an action that embodies those feelings of joy or love… or more likely, a deliciously sustaining combination of both.

Joy is an aspect of peace – another of its kissing cousins, and another profound way that joy operates. I am not talking about the peace that is an absence of violent conflict or hostility. I am talking about the peace that Robert Fulghum described when he wrote, “Peace is not something you wish for. It is something you make, something you are, something you do, and something you give away.” Here again, is a description of the nature of a thing that does not directly define it. Joy is like subatomic particles that cannot be directly observed, but effects of which can be seen in what are called cloud chambers. The words peace and joy are often commingled in the Christmas season. They both suffer from the burden of being thought of as unattainable over a long period. But the question is, why does that have to be true? We all understand, at least in an intuitive way, that inner peace is the road upon which joy takes joy rides. Find peace and you will find joy… guaranteed, all the time.

Joy is like being kissed by God. It opens us to unexpected vistas, clarity, and connectedness that lie beyond our normal experience. I love what Katherine Mansfield said about joy “… as though you’d suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle”. Amen, sister Mansfield, for bringing us such a powerful image of how joy operates. Joy sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle certainly captures the transcendent nature of it. The image reinforces my own thoughts on joy. I like to think of joy as the subatomic particles of our life experiences. Joy flavored quarks, charms, leptons, electrons, muons, bosons, and gluons are what I’m talking about. I utterly reject the notion that life is supposed to be about suffering and pain. I firmly believe it is our purpose to be happy… to hunt relentlessly for those “joy jewels”.

The feeling that you are being kissed by God should be in indication for us that we are awash in a universe of joy – that joy is the substance of all there is. And I believe that one day physicists, who so diligently seek to explain what they now call the consciousness that underlies all existence will some day look up from their calculations and say “Eureka… consciousness is joy! It’s the way God dances!”

So, Clovice, you might say. “How do you find joy?”. My answer is that joy can be planned for, and even expected, but have you noticed that the actual feeling just comes over you spontaneously? Planning for joy doesn’t take a lot of work. You can simply put yourself into situations that invite joy’s presence. Purposefully sit down on a rainy day with some hot cocoa and curl up for a few hours with that book you’ve wanted to read. Play music, or better yet, learn to play an instrument so you can play music. Play you favorite sport. Notice that “play” figures prominently here. Playing is one of the great attractors of joy.

As for the idea that you can sustain a state of joy, here are some tips on staying in joy over a long time:

Forgive yourself and others. There are few things that create a rich, fertile ground for joy more than forgiveness. We all do and say stupid things. We hurt one another, we are not perfect, and we all are in need of improvement. My Unitarian Universalist bones do not believe in “sin” in what has come to be the conventional sense of it. Sinning is to miss the mark. In that way, I believe we are all sinners. We often miss the mark. It is in our nature to fail on occasion. So, learn to forgive yourself and others and join the human race of fellow emotional klutzes. Learn to spread forgiveness liberally upon the cake of life and it will be sweeter.

Avoid unhappy people. Just remove yourself from the presence of people who you are negative or deplete your energy. Surrounding yourself with happy and successful people is one of the healthiest things you can do for yourself. Who says you have an obligation to help unhappy people become happy? That’s their responsibility. From this day forward be clear that your responsibility is to be as happy as you can be. And if that means you need to remove yourself from unhappy people to do so, then do that. Besides, sometimes you’ll find that your presence simply feeds into a codependent dynamic for an unhappy person. Breaking that cycle could be good for them as well.

Be open to change. Learn to be flexible and open to the opinions of others. Sometimes fear is what limits our growth. When we embrace change fear has little room to grow. Andre Gide said “Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of shore.” You can fight change, you can accept it, or you can embrace it. Encourage and embrace change the way you would hug a bad little boy with loving arms. If you do that then change will soon be your friend and will take you to some of the best places you can’t imagine.

Be appreciative. Ralph Marston says “Be appreciative of the truth, even when it is painful. Be appreciative of each moment, of each circumstance, of each encounter, for everything can add richness to your life when you allow it.” Appreciate the gifts in your life. That includes people, circumstances, possessions, and your health. In fact, appreciate the fact that life itself is the greatest gift. That appreciation, when you truly incorporate it into your daily existence simply cannot help but invite joy.

Discard the illusion that you are in control of anything. Chaos is a fact of life in this universe. This is not to say you can’t influence events in your life and that you can’t make the attempt to control some things. Perhaps it is better to say not to worry about the things you can’t control. Some of you have heard about my rule number one: “People will do whatever they want to do whether you want them to or not.” I tell you, that rule has personally helped me live a more joyful life.

Live in the present. You’ve heard that a million times from people who quote Eckhart Tolle, who wrote “Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now. Nothing will ever happen in the future; it will happen in the Now.” My friend, Eric Lieber calls anxiety about the future and past “futuring” and “pasting”. Frankly, he drives me crazy when he points out to me that I am futuring, but I do appreciate the reminder. Joy can only be experienced in the moment called now. Understand that and you will find joy.

This week, while writing this sermon, I started what I call a “Joy Journal” because I wanted to demonstrate how I’ve found joy, simply by looking for it:

• Talking with Carol at breakfast on a stormy, rainy morning and the sun suddenly appears.
• Feeling the graciousness of the tree in our front yard as its branches reach out in all directions.
• When I talk to my daughter, Keely, about the baby she is expecting
• The way my cat, Neo, looks at me and reaches his paw to touch me when he is stirred from one of his naps
• Having Thanksgiving dinner with Jessica Windrem
• Looking closely at a blade of new grass
• The moment when a just purchased wireless router connected all of our computers in our new house to the internet
• Thinking about how running water and an indoor toilet must have provided endless joy to some people 150 years ago.
• When Studebakers has a fresh croissant with cream cheese to accompany my quad decaf espresso
• When I’ve taken a walk in the fresh cool Fall afternoon between rain storms
• When my deceased friend, Laurie, come to visit me by planting a funny insight into my mind. She calls them upgrades to my head.
• When I visit with my friend Shanda and her newborn baby daughter
• When one of my fourth graders nails a complex rhythm I put on the chalkboard
• Watching my cat, Bastet, hug Carol on the couch as they curl into each other

Closing my eyes and lowering my head while improvising a solo during a Blue Collar rehearsal until I can smell the rosin and varnish between the neck and body of my cello. I am then transported beyond time and space. I come back to realize we band members are Gods playing music together.

This week there have been joys for me too numerous to record, too sublime to capture, and too rich to plumb. I can honestly tell you that I live in a general state of happiness that is punctuated by such joyful experiences. Those kinds of experiences can be sought out and incorporated into anyone’s life. The key is conscious attention to the ways that joy operates. Summon joy when you are fully present in the moment and I promise it will come to you like a beautiful bird that has been awaiting your call.

Clovice A. Lewis, Jr.

November 20, 2012

Being Alive and Having to Die: The Spiritual Odyssey of Forrest Church (St. Martin’s Press, 2011) is the UUCLC Lending Library’s Book of the Month.

According to author Dan Cryor, Rev. Forrest Church was the the foremost Unitarian Universalist of our time.

Church championed the separation of church and state, and a religion that respected the mind and fostered tolerance. In doing so, this “anti-Jerry Falwell often locked horns with the religious right, notably over discrimination against gays and the mistaken notion that the United States is a “Christian nation.”

Church wrote or edited 25 books, from theology to pastoral meditations to histories.

Being Alive and Having to Die chronicles Church’s journey from rebellious son of a U.S. senator to eloquent spokesman on the national stage.

Cynthia Parkhill
UUCLC Lending Library
October 2012

Eboo Patel

Eboo Patel has been named the 2013 Ware Lecturer for the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) General Assembly in Louisville, Ky.

As noted by the UUA:

“Dr. Patel is founder and Executive Director of the Interfaith Youth Core, an international nonprofit building the interfaith youth movement. He was appointed by President Obama to the Advisory Council of the White House Office of Faith Based and Neighborhood Partnerships and serves on the Religious Advisory Committee of the Council on Foreign Relations. Patel writes “The Faith Divide” blog for The Washington Post and has also written for the Harvard Divinity School Bulletin, The Chicago Tribune, and other prominent journals. He has been featured on a range of media, including CNN Sunday Morning, NPR’s Morning Edition, the PBS documentary Three Faiths, One God, The New Republic, American Public Media, the BBC, and CNN. Patel is a sought-after speaker whose addresses include the keynote speech at the Nobel Peace Prize Forum with President Jimmy Carter.”

Patel’s memoir Acts of Faith, a Beacon Press book originally published in 2008, was honored as the UUA 2011-12 Common Read. A copy of his memoir is available in the UUCLC Lending Library.

Cynthia Parkhill
UUCLC Lending Library
September 2012