So earlier today I wrote a post, and then I got bored and started fumbling around in blogger and deleting old half written blog drafts. Unfortunately, I managed to inadvertently get rid of my newest addition, which makes me sad. I will make my best attempt to replicate it here.
Yesterday, I attended service at the Unitarian Church of All Souls in the Upper East Side of Manhattan as I do most every Sunday. Taryn Strauss, the director of religious education, was leading the service and gave a sermon entitled "Rehearsing the Beloved Community". Using rousing hymns not found in the standard
Singing the Living Tradition hymnal and an acoustic guitar playing accompanist, the service was full of energy and life.
Taryn spoke of the value of a community which values togetherness and community among people of all ages , socio-economic and educational backgrounds, race/ethnicity, and goes out into the world and practices service as its prayer. She recalled feeling totally and utterly supported by her home church in Chicago as a child, to the point that she was comfortable bursting into a lively dance in the center of a circle of coffee-hour activists ardently discussing the social action topic du jour. She told us of the trip that she and a few other members embarked upon to Arizona for the "Justice GA", a gathering of UU's from all over the nation coalescing to speak up for the rights of the immigrants detained in inhumane holding camps without due process of law. They had an emotional night which served to bring them closer together as among themselves and with the families and friends of those detainees.
Taryn's youthful exuberance and forward looking optimism inspired me. I started to think about what I can do better- where I can put my efforts to extend the idea of a beloved community intimately and globally. I thought, "I love her passion and her empowerment. She is breaking up the service a bit, making it fresh and renewing a sense of joy."
Apparently, not everyone felt the same way about it. After the service, I introduced myself to a gentleman holding a coffee mug and standing by himself. The first steps of building connections between varying age groups. I relay my joy over the service: "That was such a great sermon!" his expression darkened, and I caught on that perhaps he did not agree, so I rephrased my statement as a question: "Did you enjoy the service?" His answer was not ambiguous: "No." Slightly surprised by his bluntness, I went on to ask for clarification: "Oh, well, what about it did you not like?" Without changing his expression, and with no hint of irony, he stated, "too impassioned, to empowered, and too much hoping for good things that will never happen." What is there to say in response? "Well, I think that hope can be a catalyst for change," I said, somewhat sheepishly. "Good luck with that," he grumbled, and walked off.
Clearly some philosophies are not for all people. This encounter speaks to me of the value of reaching out to people of all ages. You never know what kind of response you will get, be it window into a vastly different perspective. His opinion is, of course, valid.
As for me, I see hope as a powerful force, and believe that services like yesterday's are just what we need to keep walking towards peace and justice in the global community.
Good luck with that, indeed!
