by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on February 7, 2016
Today isn’t just Sunday – it’s Super Bowl Sunday. And for many people in the U.S., football is a religious experience. How many of you have plans to watch the game tonight?
Well, I think I may have already had my own Super Bowl experience last Sunday afternoon. That’s when Gail and I took our dog Miles, who turned one year-old this past week, to Brook Run Dog Park in Dunwoody. I can tell you, for me, it was the Super Bowl of dog parks! It’s about two acres with woods and grass and completely fenced in. And last Sunday, when it was sunny and pleasantly warm outside, Brook Run was filled to the brim with people and their dogs – just like I imagine Levi Stadium in Santa Clara will be tonight (minus the dogs, of course).
Quite honestly, I’ve never seen so many dogs gathered in one place.
Gail had already arrived at the park with Miles by the time I got there from Northwest. We were there to attend a doggie reunion. Miles is one of six littermates, born to a stray husky named Mishka. And those of us who adopted Mishka’s puppies have been staying in touch through Facebook (In fact, we have our own Facebook group called Mishka’s Puppies. And we all post a ridiculous number of doggie photos and videos to this site!)
All of us recently decided that, in honor of the puppies’ one-year birthday, we would meet up at Brook Run, let our dogs play together, and – hopefully – get them together for one family photo.
When I arrived at Brook Run, Miles was already running around the park. It’s probably the largest open space where he’s been allowed to be off-leash. As I approached the fenced area and scanned the crowds of dogs and their owners, I could see Miles in the distance. He was running at full speed with a few other new canine buddies, his tongue hanging out and a giant smile on his face (at least it looked like a smile to me). Whether or not Miles was really smiling, it was clear to me that he was very happy. I’m guessing the reason he was happy was not only because he was playing, but because he felt free.
I’ve often wondered whether Miles really knows the difference between being free and not being free, and how he feels about it. When I see him at home, sitting on the pillows at the head of our bed, staring out the window over the rooftops and through the trees to the street below, I’ve wondered what thoughts run through that little puppy mind of his. I’ve wondered, when Miles looks outside, whether he’s clearly aware that he’s indoors . . . and whether he realizes how little control he has over that.
Miles’s experience of freedom comes in limited doses, and always at my decision or Gail’s decision . . . which means that even when Miles is running free, like he was doing last week, he really isn’t all that free.
Interestingly, Miles isn’t the only one who has limited doses of freedom. We do, too. We may be free to vote for the presidential candidate of our choice, free to go to worship wherever we want, free to work from home a few days a week, and free to decide what our science project at school will be about. However, these and the other freedoms we experience generally involve someone else’s decision.
We might vote for Bernie Sanders or Hilary Clinton or Ted Cruz in the primaries, for example, but it’s our political parties, our campaign funding system, and even media coverage that determine the candidates. We might choose to go to Northwest or another Unitarian Universalist congregation, or we might check out a Christian church, a Jewish synagogue or Muslim mosque. However, it’s the First Amendment of our constitution that truly makes this freedom of choice possible.
Our government, our employers, our healthcare system, our schools, our parents – there are many places and people that offer us choices, and also set parameters around those choices. We’re free to choose some things . . . and not free to choose others.
Some limits on our freedom may be a good thing. They may be in the interest of our safety or the safety of others. A fenced-in dog park, laws requiring that we wear a seat belt or stop at a red light – these and other limitations are accepted by many of us because we believe that it’s in our best interest – or in the interest of the ones we love – to do so.
However, when irrational fear is allowed to limit or destroy freedom – yours, mine or others – that’s not a limitation in our best interest. That’s what we call oppression. And, it seems to me that the answer to oppression . . .the remedy that has been offered by religions and religious leaders throughout the ages . . . the thing that will overcome irrational fears and truly set us all free . . . is love.
Not lighthearted, sentimental love, but strong and courageous love . . . a love that stands up for what’s right and includes everyone in its embrace.
Love is something I imagine that many faith communities talk a lot about. And, of course we should! Besides in our own homes and perhaps among our friends, where else can we discuss and examine this human virtue that is so critical to the well-being of everyone and everything?
The title of today’s sermon is “Love Will Set Us Free.” I didn’t select this title because it’s catchy. I really believe love has the power to free me, to free you, and to change the world. If I’m able to practice love in my daily life – take actions that make your concerns my priority and calls forth my best human attributes – then I believe that it’s possible that you and I will experience less oppression and more freedom in our daily lives.
I believe we’ll experience freedom from fear, freedom from anger, and freedom from the economic and social disparities that create suffering and a sense of isolation.
What does a liberating love like this look like? I believe that the Christian scripture that David read to us this morning offers a clear view. Love, it says:
is patient; love is kind; love is not envious
or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist
on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful,
it does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices
in the truth.[ref]1 Corinthians 13.[/ref]
This definition of love calls for compassion. It asks us to put our own needs aside and consider the needs of others. It tells us not to gloat or hold grudges. It invites us to celebrate what is good and right about life. If this one passage became the model for all we do in our personal and public lives, is there any doubt that the world would change . . . that I might – you might – feel a greater sense of freedom and connection?
Honest to goodness love, says the Christian scripture, will prevail when other things fall to the wayside. Love will endure beyond human knowledge and beyond our human experience. Of the most revered spiritual virtues – faith, hope and love – the scripture tells us that love is by far the most important.
If a patient, kind and generous love is so great and so life changing, then why wouldn’t I practice love every chance I get? Why does it seem more times than perhaps I’d like to admit, that it’s fear, not love, that drives my emotions and behavior – fear of losing my security and control, fear of not getting my way?
Why can loving another person be so hard?
In today’s Story Wisdom, Elizabeth told a tale about how fear of losing ourselves and all that we possess keeps us apart from others and keeps us from experiencing love. The story was about a princess who was given a stone by a man who admitted he had a heart that was – what? As hard as a pebble. This princess surrounded herself with wealth and material possessions, but she didn’t have much happiness in her life.
It wasn’t until she took a risk, and stepped out of her isolated world to do kind things for others, that her heart opened up to love and she was able to soften the heart of the young man. The warmth of love, we might say, literally melted away her hard exterior and her fears – and melted his, too.
This morning, we invited you to make valentines for those Northwest members and friends we don’t see very often. These are older members of the congregation who are living in nursing homes or with family members and whose age and health prevent them from coming here on Sunday.
In many ways, the aging process has taken away some of their freedom – maybe even a lot of their freedom. They can no longer drive alone or at all. Many can no longer make their own meals or take care of their homes by themselves. And, many have had to give up their homes and their independence to live somewhere where others can help them with their day-to-day needs.
This is a huge loss of freedom. And, by not attending Northwest regularly anymore, these beloved friends of ours are also losing their connection to an important community in their lives.
Our valentines are our tiny, but an important way of bridging the distance between their homes and this place. Our messages of love and care say, “We haven’t forgotten you. You are still a part of this community. You matter.” And, my hope is that these messages will touch their hearts and, perhaps in a small way, help free them and us from a feeling of separateness.
****
The ancient Sufi poet Rumi tells a story about the heart’s ability to love. He compared it to the activity of a silkworm. Here is Rumi’s poem:
I stood before a silk worm one day.
And that night my heart said to me,
“I can do things like that. I can spin skies,
I can be woven into love that can
bring warmth to people;
I can be soft against a crying face,
I can be wings lift,
and I can travel on my thousand feet
throughout the earth,
my sacks filled with the sacred.”
And I replied to my heart,
“Dear, can you really do all those things?”
And it just nodded “Yes” in silence.
So we began and will never cease.
May our hearts believe in and help us exhibit a warm, kind, patient, mature and generous love in our lives. Because when we do, I believe that we will not only free ourselves from fear, we will help free the world from it.
And, that is the world our Unitarian Universalist faith calls us to create, step by step.
We can do it together. Let’s begin and never cease. May it be so. Amen.
(Photo credit: Running Dog by Tim Shields)