Sermon

October 15, 2006

            One of the things I said to you previously was that relationships are what life is about. While I do believe this to be true and it is well supported by many wise teachers, relationships are not the only thing we co-creators are here to explore in this world. The world of creativity is also a main area of personal and spiritual growth. This creativity takes place around what we love to do. What do you love? When we think about love, we naturally think about loving a person or people. Actually, we love things and activities as well. This loving of things and activities enriches and expands our life experience and deepens our understanding and appreciation of this world. That which we love can be as much a teacher to us as any relationship with people. The thing or activity holds truth for us as we enter deeply into it. Wayne Muller, author of the book How Then Shall We Live said, “We open ourselves to the gifts of wisdom and beauty of these things, because of our deep love of them.”

            How can it be that it is healthy and wholesome, to love things or activities? Are we not always harping on about not giving in to materialism? Actually, there is a way of being where the material things of the world are aids in our personal and spiritual development. One great example of this is the way we observe Native Americans’ appreciation and relationship with the earth and the elements of nature. In the reading, we saw how a Pueblo boy immerses himself in the making of pots and the colors that will enhance them. This endeavor will surely shape his thinking and his relationship to the earth.

             In the responsive reading we read, “We did not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand in it.” Our Transcendentalist forebears, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Margaret Fuller all had such an appreciation for nature and the earth and they expressed it in their writings; this influence has led us to develop a strand in Unitarian Universalist expressed in our seventh principle: the interdependent web of which we are a part. Some of us love that seventh principle for it gives us a language to use for engaging in environmental social justice efforts; our love of the earth inspires in us activities to be stewards of the earth. Our dedication to the environment will surely change us.

            Even being a collector of things can be a path to understanding. Wayne Muller tells a story of a couple who collected antique teapots from china and some were hundreds of years old. The collector said that the “Chinese say that after a hundred years of daily use, the pot becomes thoroughly seasoned. You need only pour hot water into the pot, and the pot itself will make tea.” [p.69, Muller] Perhaps you know someone who is a collector of something about which he or she is very knowledgeable.

The Buddha said, “All that we are is a result of what we have thought.” Our thinking about what we love shapes us to become what we are. The more conscious we are about what we love, the more creative we can be with it. Wayne Muller bids us to examine our lives to see where we are putting our attention. Where that attention resides is what we are making the center of our lives.

If we put our attention on our woundedness and make it the center of our lives, it will give us no joy and will dull our ability to create wholesome lives. This is not to say that we should not work on resolving deep issues but that it is best to balance this work with who we are beyond the wounds. Muller tells us the story of Elizabeth whose two sons, 13 and 16 years old, were driving her crazy with their quarreling. Elizabeth had grown up in an abusive home and was determined to be the finest mother she could be. Her sons were the center of her life. Wayne asked her what she did besides raising her sons. She responded that she had no time for anything other than caring for them and driving them to their sports activities. Muller asked her, what she had loved before her sons were born. Elizabeth had to think hard but recalled how she had loved to paint but that her abusive father had been a painter and she was reluctant to “follow in his footsteps.” She hesitantly agreed to take a painting class at the adult education center. She enjoyed it so much that creative activity slowly began to change Elizabeth’s thinking; her sons stopped fighting now that the center of their mother’s life had changed (perhaps they needed less of her attention so that they could grow without her intense gaze). As the years went on, she and the artists’ cooperative she belonged to in Santa Fe developed the concept of the empty bowls program—teaching teen-agers to make soup bowls to be filled with soup and sold for charity.

I relate so well to this concept of developing a different center. When I began my spiritual journey, my own teen-agers were relieved that I had an interest other than them; and my interest sparked in them an interest in spirituality, though each expressed this in a vastly different way than mine—in music and dance.

When people go to psychologists seeking help, wise ones know that the person already has locked inside him or her the knowledge of what to do about their situation. In the process of listening and reflecting, the person reveals the solution. We are like the sculptor in the story that spiritual teacher Eknath Easwaran’s grandmother told him from ancient India. [pp. 100-101, Muller] The king was astounded at the massive elephants the sculptor carved from great rocks. “How do you do it?” the king asked. The sculptor replied that for days or weeks he may observe the rock, looking at it from different angles and feeling the possibilities of what it might reveal to him. The outline of the elephant would begin to make itself known to his mind. As he chiseled, he continued sensing how the elephant would be released from the rock until finally the size and shape and detail would be fully realized in the finished sculpture.

I read of a woman who created a quilt in this way. Perhaps those of you who are woodworkers reveal pieces of furniture or sculpture like the elephant from the rock. I have a friend who loves to have dinner parties and other social gatherings just to experience the joy of seeing people eating her food and enjoying the company. This activity brought many diverse people together and shaped not only the life of the hostess.

There is, however, a downside to the activity-oriented person and that is the danger of taking on too much and going in too many directions. We learn more from immersing ourselves in fewer activities but going more deeply and this is far more satisfying. Some of you sitting here need to be careful of this and do I! This is why we ask that we each take a turn at doing something in our church. The organizers end up doing the work they’re supposed to be organizing—it’s easy to slip into this trap.

Also, much is said in our modern society about doing work that you love. It would be good if we could all find work that we love, but this cannot always be the case; sometimes, our work is a job that we do in order to do the activities that we love. Some of us have to wait until we retire in order to engage what we truly love. If the work that we do is also our heart’s desire, that is fortunate indeed. But I raise to you that doing our duty is necessary for so many reasons, including getting the house clean, loved ones cared for, and food on the table. It is good to realize that we do what we love after the job is done and we make time for this before it becomes compelling, as it did with Elizabeth, or expressed in a mid-life crisis.

To get the most out of our lives, we must be open to being “taught by what we love. What we love becomes the star that guides our path…and reminds us of what we know to be true. Our love uncovers the subtle truths that may otherwise be obscured…” [p.97, Muller] But first we must ask ourselves, “What do I love?” and be prepared to listen for or discover the answer to this question. There are some famous “saving” messages that can guide us in this work:

“All that is in heaven is within you,” said Jesus.

“All that we are is a result of what we have thought,” said The Buddha.

Finally, I leave you with some words of Rumi:

            Go absorb yourself in that beloved,
            Assume its shape and qualities.
            If you wish for the light, prepare yourself
            To receive it….

So may we all!

Reference

The following informed and inspired this sermon:

Muller, Wayne. How Then Shall We Live? Four Simple Questions That Reveal the Beauty and Meaning of Our Lives, New York: Bantam Books, 1996.
 

Reading: from How Then Shall We Live by Wayne Muller        

All we are, said the Buddha, is a result of what we have thought. He might also have added: all we are is a result of what we have loved. What we love draws us forward and shapes our destiny. Our love teaches us what to look for, where to aim, where to walk. With our every action, word, relationship, and commitment we slowly and inevitable become what we love.

            This past Easter, Christine, our son, Maxwell, and I spent the day at Santo Domingo pueblo [New Mexico] with Juanita and her children and grandchildren. They were doing the green corn dance, traditionally danced after early-morning Easter services at the mission church. After the dances, about fifteen of us tumbled into cars and pickup trucks to drive to the hills for an Easter egg hunt. When we got there, we scattered across the land where Juanita had, the night before, hidden dozens of painted eggs among the cactus…juniper, and chamisa.

            It was quite a sight, children combing the high desert landscape for eggs. At Santo Domingo, the land is dry and difficult to irrigate, and the dust blows hard in the spring….We were looking everywhere…At the top of one hill we came upon Tim, Juanita’s teenage son, and we began comparing notes on how many eggs we had found. While we were talking, Tim’s eyes were drawn to a pile of yellow sand under a nearby bush. He knelt down and began sifting through the sand with his fingers. “I need this sand for my pots,” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for a color just like this. It will be perfect.”

            Like many Pueblo youth, Tim had learned to make pots from his mother and his older sister, who continue a long tradition of fine clay potters. Because of his love for the clay, Tim saw what I did not see…. As we all searched the ground for eggs, Tim was simultaneously attuned to the peculiar colors of the hills of Santo Domingo, his eyes alert for just the right color of sand that would put a fine touch on his pots. I, of course, had missed that small pile of yellow sand completely. Standing next to me, Tim saw the rich ochre of dry earth in a way that I simply could not. …

            Thus it is with what we choose to love. We place what we love in our mind’s eye; then our eyes seek out those things we have chosen as valuable and important, and our mind discards the rest….We open ourselves to the gifts of wisdom and beauty of these things, because of our deep love of them.