-- Maya Angelou
Meditation: by Anne Sexton a poem entitled “Welcome Morning”
There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “hello there, Anne”
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard
dies young.
Reading: by the Christian author Frederick Buechner from The Longing for Home (p. 7)
Home sweet home. There’s no place like home. Home is where you hang your hat… What the word home brings to mind before anything else, I believe, is a place, and in its fullest sense not just a place where you happen to be living at the time… The word home summons up a place… which you have rich and complex feelings about, …a place where you feel you belong and which in some sense belongs to you, a place where you feel that all is somehow ultimately well even if things aren’t going all that well at any given moment. To think about home eventually leads you to think back to your childhood home, the place where your life started, the place which off and on throughout your life you keep going back to if only in dreams and memories and which is apt to determine the kind of place, perhaps a place inside yourself, that you spend the rest of your life searching for even if you are not aware that you are searching. I suspect that those who as children never had such a place in actuality had instead some kind of dream of such a home, which for them played an equal crucial part.
Remarks: by Rev. Axel Gehrmann
Next week I will be heading home for Thanksgiving. My wife, Elaine, and I will be packing up our little Prius and driving to Washington, D. C., which is where her mother lives. But Washington, D. C., isn’t actually home for Elaine, it’s not where she is from. She is from Pittsburgh. And D. C. isn’t really home for me. I’m from Germany. Washington also isn’t really home for our son Noah, who will be driving with us, nor for our daughter Sophia, who now lives near Philadelphia, and will be taking the bus to D. C. and meet us there. The kids consider Urbana home. And come to think of it, I’m not sure D. C. is what Elaine’s mother would consider home. She is from a small town in Pennsylvania called Ridgeway. And her husband is from Brooklyn.
If home is the place we come from, then none of us are at home in Washington. Nevertheless, that is where we are all headed next week. And when we all get there, and when we all sit around the dining room table, I know it will nevertheless be home for us.
It will feel like the place we belong, and that belongs to us. The dining room table will be home, shaped by our presence, but also by the memories each of us bring with us.
Home is a unique place that touches into rich and complex emotions.
Sometimes we speak of this place as our home, our church home. The fewest of us were born here, but many have come here and remained here. Maybe we were searching for just this kind of place. Maybe not.
I would like to welcome Tanja Hodges to the pulpit, so she can share some of her thoughts on the matter.
Reflections on Welcoming: by Tanja Hodges
So, in a move of full disclosure, I’ll tell you that I did not come to this church looking for a ‘church home’. In fact, I came to this building looking for space to rent on a weeknight. While touring the facility I saw a sign that said “Choir rehearsal: Saturday at 10 am. Everybody’s welcome.” At that point in my life I was completely ‘anti-church’ but I wanted to sing again so I decided to take a risk and show up. I did this while hoping that you all would let me sing, but not spill too much of that ‘religion stuff’ all over my perfectly good Sundays. I came to this place a devout Humanist, so perhaps you can imagine my surprise when that ‘religion stuff’ at this church became an important part of my life - just as important as the music to me. I believe I was able to embrace a place here because I felt welcome and comfortable … almost from day one.
Now, at this point I think I’m supposed to be talking about how all those nametags that people wear, or how the individual greeters made me feel welcome… but frankly, the nametags didn’t really move me very much and I didn’t even realize we had individual greeters in the lobby those first few years here because I never saw them – mainly because the choir arrives early for rehearsal on Sundays. The thing that I feel I can honestly talk about that made me feel welcome wasn’t any specific organized welcoming effort, but instead something… well different. To put it simply, what made me feel welcome was the way you treat one another, and therefore the way you treated me. The thoughtfulness, gratitude, and engagement that each of you expresses so consistently and openly is what made me feel welcome.
You may or may not realize it, but you have created a culture of kindness like none other I’ve ever encountered. As a whole, this congregation is unfailingly helpful, along with being considerate and caring toward the feelings of others. For example, on an occasion or two one the pieces we have sung in choir may not have gone as well as we had intended, and on those Sundays people seem to really put effort into coming up between services and telling me –and other choir members I assume – how much they appreciate all the choir’s efforts and state that they think the piece must have taken a ton of hard work. You all seem to live your faith in a very appreciative, caring and supportive way… that, in and of in itself, is very welcoming, in my opinion. Thanks for listening.
Remarks: by Rev. Axel Gehrmann
Everybody is welcome here. This is what we say. This is what we believe. This is what we write on signs. This is the spirit we try to cultivate – a spirit of welcome, a culture of kindness.
We strive to extend hospitality to all. We have nametags, and we have designated greeters, yes indeed. But hospitality is really much bigger than that. The spirit of hospitality we cherish can only be sustained if everyone joins in.
I wonder what it would look like if hospitality wasn’t the work done by designated greeters for the sake of designated guests, but a spiritual practice shared by each and all of us.
MUSICAL INTERLUDE
Reading: by David Rynick, a member of the First Unitarian Church of Worcester, Massachusetts and also a Zen Buddhist teacher. This is from a piece entitled “The Spiritual Practice of Hospitality” (UUWorld, Summer 2007)
Practicing hospitality is not something we can appoint people to do, nor is it a set of techniques or behaviors we “use” on new people. Rather, it is an… intentional action,… that creates the quality of relationships in our churches that will nourish newcomers and longtime members alike…
In a true encounter with another human being, we come face to face with the mystery of life. In some way, every other person, no matter how well we know them, will remain as mysterious to us as a country across the ocean we only read about in books. When we judge other people or other countries by our native standards, we miss the richness and texture of their life and wisdom. We need to learn to be good tourists—to be curious and respectful.
Too often we get stuck in the trap of believing we already know who someone else is. But whenever we encounter another human being with respect for this essential unknown, we create the possibility for something genuinely new to emerge. In every interaction, whether it is with a stranger or our longtime partner, we can be surprised by what we have not yet seen or even imagined…
It is possible to view hospitality as a duty, as something that imposes a claim on our attention from the outside. But I believe that as spiritual practice, hospitality becomes something quite different, an act of mutual [kindness] undertaken in a spirit of self-discovery…
In choosing this spiritual practice of hospitality, I live out the longing of my heart—creating a new reality for myself and the people around me. I reclaim my power to create the kind of world I want to live in. Gandhi was speaking of this kind of radical act when he said, “We must be the change we seek.”
We may have little control over conflicts in another part of the world, but we can practice truly honoring the preciousness of all human life by how we enter into relationship with each other. If we are serious about creating a more just, equitable, and compassionate world, we have to start with the room we are in.
Remarks: by Rev. Axel Gehrmann
Hospitality can take many different shapes. Each of us needs to find what works for us, what fits our particular interests, what speaks to our particular needs.
I would like to welcome Nancy Dietrich to the pulpit, so she can share some of her thoughts on the matter.
Reflections on Welcoming: by Nancy Dietrich
My husband, Russ Rybicki, & I started attending the church about 5 years ago. Lapsed Catholics at the time, we were looking for a community where, as social and religious liberals, we felt like we fit in, and where there were opportunities to get involved in causes we believed in and ways to get to know people in the church on a more personal level.
My friend Maryly Crutcher, whom I met while serving on the board at Channing-Murray Foundation previously, invited me to attend. Russ & I had done a little bit of church shopping before coming here, but never really found a place that we felt like we would be comfortable becoming a part of the community. We found that here.
One part of helping to make us feel comfortable in this congregation has been the coffee hour after each of the services. When Russ & I first started attending the church, many members of the church reached out to us at coffee hour, chatted with us, and made us feel like we belonged here. In turn, I’ve found coffee hour to be an opportunity to reach out to others who are new to the congregation, to help make them feel welcome in the same way longstanding members of the church, who have since become friends, reached out to us.
Another way I felt welcomed into this community was the new member potluck held at Cindy & Michael Loui’s when Russ & I first joined the church. This is such a great outreach to the new members of the church community to get to know others in an informal, relaxed setting. It really made me feel welcomed.
As I mentioned earlier, having opportunities to get involved with causes I believe in was also an important part of finding a church community for me. Getting involved with the Hunger Initiative and the Social Action Committee gave me an opportunity to do this. Being involved in both of those groups and feeling like I was making a difference was really essential in feeling welcome and feeling like I fit into this community.
My busy husband, Russ, has also felt welcomed into this congregation. He has recently become involved in coordinating the UU Happy Hour, and enjoying socializing with other UUs in that way. We have also enjoyed getting to know others through Circle Suppers, the annual service auction itself as well as the auction activities Russ & I have bid on and taken part in, and other social activities we’ve taken part in here. It has really made us feel part of a community.
In summary, I really want to encourage newcomers to check out all of the small groups, committees, and other ways to really get involved in the life of the congregation. I would also like to encourage longstanding members & friends to reach out to those with the “Hello” nametags and others whom you have not met before. It really can make all the difference; it definitely did for me. Thank you.
PAUSE
Reading: by the British born professor of architecture and environmental planning Clare Cooper Marcus from House as a Mirror of Self: exploring the deeper meaning of home (p. 280)
Home is not only a literal place but also a place of deep contentment in the innermost temple of the soul. Home is where the heart is runs the familiar saying. It has, I think, two levels of meaning. Heart or love is our connection to family and friends, to places and persons familiar and nurturing. But heart is also our innermost being, our soul. In this latter sense, home is where the heart is refers to that way of being, that place, that activity in which we are most fully and most deeply ourselves…
What I have learned… is that the human spirit is constantly in process, constantly on a journey of discovery… Without the journey, there may be stagnation, frustration, disempowerment. Thus, like it or not, we all have to leave home to find ourselves. However, the self we are seeking is not literally “out there”… it is always within. The paradox is that… we are each and every one of us always [and] never leaving home. To leave is to grow through adventure, risk taking, danger, excitement; to return is to find stability and strength at the still center of our being. Leaving home – and returning – is something we do every day and throughout our lives.
Remarks: by Rev. Axel Gehrmann
Home is the place we come from and it is a dream of the heart. It is a reality deep within us, and it is a possibility we long to discover, which we strive to create.
I would like to welcome Ryan Latvaitis to the pulpit, so he can share some of his thoughts on the matter.
Reflections on Welcoming: by Ryan Latvaitis
Some of you know I’m taking a class in Arabic at the U of I, where I also work. I’ve nearly mastered the alphabet and am now working on expanding my vocabulary, and there’s a word I discovered that encapsulates some of my experience with home, and finding one’s home. It’s الغربة, (al-ghurba) which is translated variously as longing for one’s homeland or native land, homesickness, and feeling a stranger in a strange place.
You see, I’m an anxious person, fidgety and ill-at-ease among new people. I have few friends, and I’ve always struggled to feel comfortable except in the most familiar of places. Feeling at home is, thus, very important to me.
الغربة describes well how I felt as I began to venture beyond the commute between work and home once we moved here in July of 2012. I was searching for things to make this place pleasant, to feel connected, rooted. One thing that helped was subscribing to the newspaper, which kept me posted on local happenings.
One other thing helped even more. One day in the fall of 2013 my now-fiancé Christy said that we should stop by the Unitarian Universalist Church. I had mentioned that I missed the experience of church, but didn’t want to swallow someone else’s dogma. We came, we saw, we liked it. The people were open and warm, and everyone eager to get to know us. It offered intellectual stimulation in book discussion groups, a conviction that the world can be improved through social action, and the opportunity to worship in my own way among a loving community. The three-week UU orientation sessions Axel hosted provided a safe forum for questions about what Unitarian Universalism was. My feelings of strangeness, of الغربة, have been diminishing since our first Sunday here.
I recall in particular one moment of this transition – of becoming not just UUs, but Urbana UUs. I opened my mailbox to receive my first Uniter. It felt special, like I was a member of a community. There is something different about a physical thing than a digital thing. Maybe in this way I’m old-fashioned, or less charitably, a luddite. I maintain the soul savors a letter more than an email, much in the same way that being here is more satisfying than listening to the sermons online.
We’re in a time of change in this church, and we would do well to analyze how we do things. Yet so too we should be careful. Buzzwords like innovation, disruption, and the popularity of tech startup culture have been adopted by wider society as marks of sophistication. We are admonished by Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook to “Move fast and break things.” This is not advice one should follow in one’s own home.
I urge you all to think carefully about how this church is home to you, and how it could be made better. It is only by our labor that this wonderful place will prosper.
Remarks: by Axel Gehrmann
Many of us come here searching for a place where we can feel connected, rooted, and accepted; a place that is open and warm.
This place of our dreams is something we are called to create. It is a radical new reality. It is the world we want to live in. Its hallmarks are acceptance, respect, and kindness. Its expressions are thoughtfulness, gratitude, and engagement.
Whether or not we call this place our religious home, the task of making this a welcoming place is a religious practice that involves all of us – regardless whether we are here today for the first time, or have been here all our lives.
True hospitality is nothing other than the most straightforward expression of our firm belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person. Practicing real, heart-felt hospitality is the first step we need to take in our efforts to build a world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.
Mahatma Gandhi firmly believed we can each be the change we seek. And I agree. We can.
We all come from different places.
But when we come together here,
may we make this one place where everyone is welcome.
May this be a place where we can gather around a welcome table
to share our memories of happiness, and our dreams of love.
May the spirit we find here inspire us to change the world.
So be it. Amen.
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