Change and the Journey of Discomfort

By Rev. Terry Davis

Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist

Congregation on March 3, 2013

When Mani sent me his reflection to read a few weeks ago, it should have been no surprise to me that he would lay out some solid facts and figures about climate change and the case they make for shifting our dependence away from non-renewable energy resources. After all, he is a retired information technology professor with a PhD in electrical engineering.

And, as you might expect from a college professor, Mani included a word in his reflection that sent me to the dictionary. That word was “entropy.” When I looked up the word, I noticed it had two definitions – a scientific one and a systemic one.

The scientific one, as far as I could tell, described entropy as “involving the measurement of heat that is lost or not used during a closed thermodynamic process.” I really don’t have any idea what that means.

So, I next consulted the systemic definition of entropy, which is related to the scientific one. This definition explained entropy as a lack of order or predictability, particularly within a system, with the result being a decline into randomness and deterioration.

It seems, then, that entropy is about disorder in a system – whether it is the disorderly transfer of thermal energy that results in lost or unused heat or the conditions that create disorder and chaos within a society.

The persons Mani referenced in his reflection have all pointed out the behaviors and conditions that they believe are contributing to the entropy . . . the disorder and chaos . . . of our society.

If we don’t make the shift away from non-renewable energy to renewable energy within our children’s lifetimes, says environmentalist Bill McKibben, the climate of our planet will move to a dangerous level and past the point of no return.

If we continue to live as Takers that are disconnected to the planet and all other living things, says author Daniel Quinn, we will eventually perish.

Now, I imagine that the person who may be living in La La Land and doesn’t think that climate change is happening can’t deny the fact that we are a fossil fuel-dependent country. Even a former U.S. president from Texas, whose family fortunes were made in the energy industry, said America is addicted to oil. And, if you know anything about addiction, it’s a very slippery slope. It can lead to, well, to entropy.

So, how can we stop this climate change slide and its catastrophic consequences? John Carroll, the author of the book Sustainability and Spirituality – which has been the source of my first Sunday of the month sermon series – suggests that we must develop a deep and radical spirituality . . . a spirituality that recognizes that Nature and the sacred are one . . . a spirituality that understands that by taking care of Nature, we unlock the door to our salvation.

Carroll also suggests that we must learn from those contemplative communities who, out of an understanding of their faith and calling, are practicing sustainability in significant ways.

These are two very specific suggestions. However, what Carroll doesn’t fully address – which is the topic of my sermon today – is the necessary step that will enable us to act for our own welfare and that of all living things. And that step is change.

Oh, Carroll knows that we need to change and he knows what change looks like. What he doesn’t specifically tell us is how to do it. How do we cultivate a radical spirituality that reawakens our connection back to Mother Earth? How do we make real and permanent changes in our behavior that will reduce our negative impact on the planet? How do we encourage others to do the same? How do we change?

We all probably know that the answer isn’t as easy as the three-worded Nike ad – that we simply “Just do it”. We likely have a sense of what holds us back.

For me, it’s this: changing habits is hard. It’s damn hard. Just ask anyone who is trying to give up one. It can be downright painful to let go of an ingrained habit, even if we know it’s killing us.

It hurts to do without something that is familiar, or provides comfort or convenience. By attempting to change, it’s possible that we are going to come face to face with just how dependent we are on something or someone else for our sense of security. And, to face that dependency and know our own powerlessness can be frustrating or even scary.

As someone who was raised Catholic, my experience with changing a habit for the sake of my spiritual growth was something I practiced during the season of Lent. Lent is the liturgical season leading up to Easter Sunday, which invites the practitioner to give up something as a way to show one’s love for God and cultivate a sense of humility. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable, even if it is only for six weeks.

Of course, the popular Lenten practice in our family was to give up meat on Fridays and eat Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks instead. As a child, I didn’t find that particularly painful. I liked eating breaded seafood. Giving up candy or gum or picking fights with my sister – now that’s where things started to get tougher. Those were things I enjoyed doing and couldn’t imagine living without. Lent always struck me as something of an endurance test: how long could I not give into my sweet tooth or hold my tongue? Could I make it to Easter and then go back to the old me?

Of course, the kind of change John Carroll and others are inviting us to consider is far more serious than this. It involves changes not just in our personal habits, but giant shifts in our culture. And, it isn’t just change for a little while until things get better. Carroll and others are inviting us to make permanent changes, changes that will call for sacrifices, but will ultimately transform the way we experience ourselves and our relationships to all living things.

I believe we can begin on the path to change by learning to befriend our discomfort we may experience along the way – and by having faith that our discomfort will transform us into more grateful, empathetic and joyful persons.

Now, as I wrote this, I was aware that I was expecting a lot from change and my journey of discomfort. It seems I’m expecting to realize some of my highest ideals in exchange for willingly participating in acts of self-denial.

And, yet, I’m aware that every major religion in the world – including Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Islam and Christianity – embraces some concept of self-denial as a means of attaining selflessness or as an expression of love for others.^[1] Philosophical and ethical thought also teach a form of self-denial in the principle of altruism, which can be understood as the practice of concern for the welfare of others.

In other words, we do something that creates a loss or suffering for us because we believe that others will benefit from our actions and, therefore, we will too. We are thinking of the whole community, not just of ourselves. According to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., this is living life knowing that we are joined to others, knowing that we are “tied in a single garment of destiny.” It’s living in keen awareness of our Seventh Principle which says we are part of the interdependent web of all existence.

It seems that, as Unitarian Universalists, we might all be able to get on board with the notion that living more sustainably – that is, living in a way that environmental activist Steven Rockefeller says “respects and safeguards the regenerative capacities of our oceans, rivers, forests, farmlands, and grasslands”^[2] – it seems that we all might agree that living this way is the right thing to do.

And, so, when I suggest that we must befriend the discomfort caused by change in order to transform ourselves into more grateful, empathetic and joyous persons, what I mean is that our discomfort can be our signal that we are moving away from a self-centered way of living and toward a life where we truly delight in good of the whole.

This is what I believe Unitarian Universalism is calling us to do. Our faith is asking us to save ourselves by saving each other and this planet. It’s asking us to change, and to be leaders in that change. Is this something we want to do at Northwest? If so, how will we begin?

Mani proposed in his reflection that we start by going on a diet – a carbon-reduction diet. He and the Earth Ministry team are challenging each Northwest family to lose 5,000 pounds in 30 days. We are being invited change together and to share the journey of discomfort that goes along with it.

I plan to join the rest of you here in the Sanctuary after the service to find out more about what it’s all about. And, I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about this experiment. I’m not exactly the model of sustainability.

As some of you know, I don’t drive a Prius. I have a space heater in my office to keep my feet warm. I eat animal protein . . . I eat corn chips. I like hot showers. I use a blower dryer. What will I need to give up? How uncomfortable will I become if I commit to this diet?

Mani told me once that when he and Ruth started this practice of living more sustainably, it started to feel like a game. It became an inviting challenge – he said even fun –to see where they could recycle and reuse more things, where they could cut back on consumption, and where they could live more simply.

It sounds to me like somewhere along the way, Mani and Ruth experienced a transformation. It sounds to me like they’ve put these practices at the center of the way they live and express their faith. It sounds like they’re living a life where the good of the whole has become their priority.

As we go from here, may we each examine our hearts and honestly ask ourselves what we want from this liberal faith of ours. If it’s to grow in gratitude, empathy and joy, if it’s to build the beloved community, if it’s to provide our children with an example of what it means to work for the good of the whole, then my wish is that we’ll join with one another.

My wish is that, together, we’ll embark on change and the journey of discomfort for the sake of us all – all people and all living things.

My wish is that this beautiful world of ours will be here long after we go for our children and their children to share and enjoy.

May we find the courage and strength within to make it so. Amen.