The month of November is full of meaningful opportunities for spiritual and moral exploration: Indigenous Heritage month, All Souls Day, whatever the election brings, Veterans Day, Transgender Day of Remembrance, Thanksgiving and the Day of Mourning (both on the same day), Buy Nothing Day. With other Unitarian Universalists around the country, we are considering themes of Healing and Covenant.

As I prepare the arc of our Sunday Services in this swirl, a number of my personal principles have bubbled up.

Our web of relationships is built with constantly evolving mutual promises that can never be fully articulated, but it’s always worth a try to give them words.
Covenant is not an oft-used word in mainstream culture. It feels a bit archaic when spoken within the UUFM walls. (Of course, we use the word “narthex” to describe our foyer, so that could change!) But the concept underneath is not foreign at all: covenant is simply the set of promises that gives relationships integrity. We don’t always speak or write them down; we rely heavily on norms and our expectations of what others will and won’t do often match their intentions. But if we feel guilty or disappointed, that’s a clue that we need to have a conversation. Something has changed, or something has always been different than we understood. And that’s ok! Covenant is not set in stone. It’s written on our hearts, and our hearts are always growing.

Trust starts with the risk of making promises to each other. Trust is earned and deepened not only by keeping promises, but also by taking responsibility when they are broken.
Love becomes real when we commit verbally to act in certain ways. It can be mundane: “I’ll be right here in the car when you come out of school.” It can be time-bound: “I’ll join the Stewardship Team for this fiscal year.” It can be aspirational, as in our Covenant of Right Relations: “We will patiently negotiate to reconcile conflicts and choose friendship over irreconcilable differences.” But love hasn’t disappeared if we forget to show up, have to bow out of an obligation, or lose control of our emotions. We make love real, again, when we admit that we’re not perfect and that we feel true sorrow that we’ve disappointed or hurt others. These acts of love, repeated over time, build trust between people that ripples out into trustful and trustworthy community.

The deeper we go with repair, the more deeply we can feel gratitude.
Gratitude feels hollow when there is unacknowledged pain in the room. As I shared in my September 20th reflection, “Soon it will be harvest and thanksgiving time, but we’re not yet ready. In my own experience, gratitude feels more complete and transformative when my heart has already been opened by apology and forgiveness.” As Americans, the Thanksgiving holiday loses meaning if we use it to symbolize a false history of intercultural harmony. True gratitude for each item on the table requires acknowledging how it got there: the creativity and generosity of cooks and hosts; the labor and dedication of farmer workers, truckers, and grocers; and the abundant richness of land, which can never be truly owned by any individual. On an interpersonal scale, we rest in gratitude better if we are in right relationships with those at our Thanksgiving table. On a national or global scale, everyone is at our table. I encourage you to articulate your concrete commitments to the whole as part of your Thanksgiving preparations, remembering how you make real these words in the UUA bylaws: “We covenant to protect Earth and all beings from exploitation. We will create and nurture sustainable relationships of care and respect, mutuality and justice. We will work to repair harm and damaged relationships.” Repair happens one conversation, one relationship at a time. I see the world healing every day at UUFM, and am deeply grateful for the many kinds of generosity you offer the world through supporting our little community.