On the mystery of who we are
We are the holy troublemakers
From “Troublemakers’ Blessing” by Lóre Stevens and Cody Hooks
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We embody the eternal unknown, the stubborn mysteries, the uncontrollable forces of nature.
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We are the mischievous seekers who demand to know “Why?” “How come?” and “What’s the point?” Our only doctrine is that no truth is the whole truth, no way is the one right way.
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We invite all to Plant the ancient seeds of questions. May they bloom into fabulous futures.
Unitarian Universalists – at least many of those I’ve known – tend to try to figure things out. We like to have some modicum of control over our endeavors. But at some point we all come up against the limit of our influence and understanding. The month of December is an opportunity to find some joy, or at least peace, in the reality of mystery. It is a time when we get to stop and ponder, take in a shocking breath of cold air, and simply be. In December, we can consider, with awe and wonder, that we might embody forces of cosmic meaning and intention much bigger than our own understanding.
I had a flashing awareness of this last Sunday at the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. I stood up and made my way to the lectern to lead a water meditation just as rain began pattering on the roof. Because we had many more people in attendance than we expected, partway into the meditation we paused while more glasses of water were prepared and passed out. We simply sat there, in not-quite-silence, listening to water on the roof while preparing to drink water. And then I shared these words by Brother Phap Linh:
[The water we are about to drink] was evaporated from the surface of the ocean by the warmth of the sun up into space, into the sky where it condensed, as cloud, and then later condensed more, as rain, collected by streams and rivers into lakes for us to drink. Are we in touch with the simple miracle of water?
In that moment, yes, we were. As we sipped, we couldn’t help but know we were embodying nature.
At the time of this writing, I’m watching the generous first snowfall of the season. There’s something about snow that makes the miracle of water at once more obvious and more mysterious — the silence as it comes down, the way it softens and then blots out our familiar landmarks. Of course there’s also the problem-solving, since the uncontrollable forces of nature interrupt our plans and taunt us to try again. We accommodated the first snowfall by moving to a Zoom-only Sunday Service the next morning. And then, once the decision was made, I could sit again with my cup of tea, looking out the window at the now-nighttime winter wonderland, marveling.
It’s a season of darkness giving birth to new light and insight. For Advent and Hanukkah, candles are lit in the darkness. And Solstice honors the return of the sun. Lesser known is Bodhi Day, the anniversary of the Buddha’s enlightenment. This time of year requires, demands, that we pause in the unknowing. There is space this month for questions. This month we have an opportunity to practice not answering them. And in this space, perhaps the spark of answers will simply come.
This month we are bringing back the labyrinth tradition we began last December. With some festive collective effort Sunday afternoon, December 17th, we’ll transform the sanctuary into a Pathway to Mystery, the route marked by sparkly lights. If you’re not familiar, labyrinths are an ancient symbol. We don’t know when the first ones were drawn or what they were used for. But in the 1200s, they began to be built into the floors of Catholic cathedrals for worshippers to walk through. An important thing about a labyrinth is that it’s not a maze. You can’t get lost in the labyrinth. There’s only one path, which goes in and then comes back out. But that doesn’t mean you know where you’re going. The invitation is to wander, ponder, and meander. It’s common practice to ask a question upon entering the labyrinth. And then let it go, see if it gets answered without your conscious effort. Allow mystery to do its work.
The building will be open 3:30-5:30 Tuesday – Saturday the week before Christmas for you to come and experience the quiet ritual of walking the labyrinth. We will also have time before and after the 7pm Christmas Eve service for walking the labyrinth. Come, plant the ancient seeds of questions. May they bloom into fabulous futures.
Love,
Pastor Isa