Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on
December 6, 2015
How many of you know the story of Noah and the great flood? What happens in it?
What do you think about that?
For me, the story of Noah and the flood from the book of Genesis has always been a troubling one. God may have felt there was good reason for 40 days and 40 nights of rain that caused the Earth to flood and washed it clean of evil men and women. Yet, when the floods came, the story says that ALL lives were destroyed, including the lives of innocent animals, insects, plants, trees and children.
All of the good in life, as well as what God thought was all the bad, disappeared. Pretty grim stuff.
Eventually, the rains stopped and the waters receded. Noah, along with his family and all the animals and plants and seeds they managed to stuff into that big boat of his, came ashore. Noah and his family then began the business of planting seeds to grow food and having offspring so that life on Earth would be possible once again.
And, so what did God think of his big decision to flood the earth when the rain and flooding were all over? Does anyone remember? When it was all over, God looked back and thought he had made a very big mistake.
In the story, God says to himself, “Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood.
And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.”
And, so God made a promise to Noah. God promised that never again would there be a destructive flood like the one they all had just experienced. To show Noah that God meant business, God sealed his promise with a beautiful rainbow in the sky. And, God said:
As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night will never cease.[ref]Genesis 8:22[/ref]
God didn’t promise Noah that the earth would thrive forever. God merely said that, as long as the earth is around, he would uphold his end of the bargain, which is to keep the rhythms of the natural world going. “As long as the earth endures, I will do these things,” God said.
As Unitarian Universalists, most of us don’t take this ancient story from the Hebrew Bible literally. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t take it seriously. There may not be a God in the heavens calling for 40 days and 40 nights of life-destroying weather. But there is the reality that we can do the job of creating severe storms and other devastating weather ourselves.
We do it with our massive fossil fuel consumption and the carbon emissions and greenhouse gas effect it creates.
And whether God is real or imagined, the Deity isn’t the only one who is deeply angry and saddened about human failings. We’re also angry and sad and scared.
We see oppression of all kinds all around us. And we may wonder if the earth will one day no longer be able to endure the abuse we heap upon her and each other.
Are we helpless here? I don’t think so. Is there something we can do or reclaim in our lives right now that will enable us to make the life-saving, earth-saving changes we need? If so, what is it?
Karen Armstrong, a British author and commentator who is known for her books on comparative religion, suggests in today’s reading that people living today have lost touch with something that is vital to their well-being . . . something that those living in ancient times couldn’t imagine living without. She says we have lost touch with the holy.
Lynne read to us these words by Armstrong:
Our scientific culture educates us to focus our attention on the physical and material world in front of us. This method of looking at the world has achieved great results. One of its consequences, however, is that we have, as it were, edited out the sense of the “spiritual” or the “holy” which pervades the lives of people in more traditional societies at every level and which was once an essential component of our human experiences of the world.[ref]Karen Armstrong, A History of God: The 4,000-Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity and Islam (Ballantine Books, New York, NY: 1993), 4 – 5[/ref]
Armstrong continues, “Indeed it seems that in the ancient world people believed that it was only by participating in this divine life that they would become truly human.”[ref]Ibid.[/ref]
When I think about our lovely and fragile planet earth and the question of whether it will endure our fighting and our abuse . . . and when I think about Karen Armstrong’s assertion that many of us have lost our sense of the holy and, therefore, a piece of our humanity . . . I can’t help but conclude that one has something to do with the other.
In other words, I believe that recapturing our sense of the holy may indeed be the key to saving our planet and ourselves.
What do I mean exactly by “recapturing our sense of the holy?” I don’t necessarily mean following a religion or religious doctrine, although that may be helpful to some. Nor do I mean seeking a connection to a supernatural spirit or some sort of divine presence, though that may also be helpful.
Rather, when I affirm Armstrong’s assertion that we must recapture our sense of the holy to restore us to our full humanity, I’m simply advocating connecting to that which has the power to profoundly change us . . . change us from persons who are each primarily concerned with self to people who feel deeply connected to one another and all.
For me, recapturing a sense of the holy means living my everyday life with the belief that any one experience I might have has the ability to deeply touch me and transform me. And, if that’s the case, then it seems I must also conclude that it’s impossible to cast aside anything in life as being inconsequential to cultivating a greater sense of well-being.
Anything – especially those things that agitate me – is an opportunity for growth and change . . . which leads me to ultimately believe that everything is holy now.
This might sound like a hollow thing to say, particularly in light of the terrible violence that is happening in our country and around the world. And, yet hopefully, the pain and suffering we have witnessed and have experienced ourselves are galvanizing us, not discouraging us. Perhaps the only holy opportunity in horrific tragedies and great human failings is that they have the power to transform us into persons who aren’t content to sit on the sidelines and wait for others to do the work of change.
Which, for today, leads me to our shoes.
Decorating the shoes on our tables with messages and graphics in support of the planet we love isn’t just a creative act of concern. Placing those shoes at the top of our driveway for all those driving down Mt. Vernon Highway to see – which we’ll do after the congregational meeting today – won’t just be an act of public witness. And, changing our roadside out front to read “We Stand with the Earth” – which we’ll also do today – won’t just be a statement of solidarity with those environmental activists in Paris and around the world.
They are all also holy acts.
With these actions, we’re saying that we believe we must set apart our time and energy and imagination to achieve some greater good. We’re saying that this planet has the ability to transform us and that a holy response is required to overcome those blind and misguided deeds that are destroying it.
We’re saying that to preserve what’s holy – which is everything about this natural world – we must interact with the earth in a holy way . . . one that is guided by compassion, discipline and self-giving.
To put our hearts and minds towards achieving eco-justice . . . to do our part to help our planet not merely endure, but thrive . . . is to reclaim what it means to allow the unseen principles of faith, love, and courage to change us over and over again.
Our shoes are a small step. But they will hopefully lead to more. And, that is a holy thing. A little later this morning, you each will be asked to participate in something that I think could also be an invitation to reclaim the holy in our lives.
Northwest’s Board of Trustees, led by Board President David Morgen, will be facilitating a discussion . . . a discussion that, on the surface, may appear to be an exercise that you’ve done before at work or with other groups.
The discussion is going to be about us – Northwest. It’s going to invite us to think deeply and engage our hearts as we consider what we believe Northwest’s greatest gift to the world can be. And, we’ll be having this conversation openly and creatively, using a café setting like we’re using for worship right now.
All religious communities, if they are to nurture our spirit, must be places that not only comfort us, but challenge us. A healthy congregation should expect us to bring our very best to our faith. And a healthy congregation should give us an uncomfortable nudge every now and then when we’re backing away from the responsibility we have to ourselves and to others to facilitate personal growth and transformation.
Unlike God in the myth of Noah and the flood, we can’t wash the world clean of everything we think is wrong with it and start over. Similarly, we can’t expect to change ourselves overnight into the more loving, patient and courageous people we might like to be. Instead, we’ve chosen to be a part of a faith community like Northwest where we hope we can learn more about ourselves and the needs of the world . . . and where we are encouraged to make a few improvements.
How can Northwest truly help us and the world change and grow? That’s what we’re going to explore later this morning. This is a conversation that I’m hoping can lead this congregation to a deeper sense of the holy mission of this place. I hope you’ll stay and join in.
And, so, as we wrap up this part of the service, I’d like for you to turn to someone at your table . . . and I’d like for you to name something that you do on a regular basis, either something you enjoy or something you struggle with, that connects you to your sense of the holy.
What is it? Is it changing you? How?
As we go from here, may we be open to the possibility that everything is holy.
We have an open-ended invitation to be transformed by every encounter and every deed. May the justice work we do today and in the days ahead be informed by this belief, so that our hearts and spirits may be nurtured by our actions and not worn down or embittered by the obstacles we meet along the way.
And, as we reclaim a deeper connection with that which has the power to move us deeply and change us completely, may we be willing to let this connection become the priority in our lives . . . so that we can be restored to wholeness and, as Karen Armstrong suggests, to what it means to be fully human.
May it be so. Amen.