Tributes

The year in review of those who have died always gives me pause. But this year in particular, several persons who are notable also had a profound effect on my life.

  • Leonard Cohen wrote the songs that Judy Collins covered in my teen years. In particular, “Suzanne.” The title track from his last album, “You Want It Darker” was somehow prescient.
  • I was too young to follow Tom Hayden in his SDS days but I remember going to hear both he and Jane Fonda speak at Yale one evening. He walked the talk and made the transition from defying the system from outside to changing it from within.
  • Pat Summit. She took women’s collegiate basketball to a level of respect that no one else could, Title IX or no Title IX. Her Lady Vols were talented and fierce. As was she. Alzheimer’s took her way too early.
  • I knew him as Cassius Clay before his conversion to Islam. He and Howard Cosell (who I could not stand to hear talk in his New York accent which distorted words) would put on quite the duel of words for the public. But it wasn’t Ali’s bravado or boxing that impressed me. It was his conscientious objection to the Vietnam War and the jail time he served.
  • Fidel Castro. I have a picture of my parents and me at age 10 standing in front of sign at Guantanamo Bay that points to the place where Castro cut off the water supply to the American base. I would visit Cuba again in 2000 with a church tour. He is neither a devil or a hero to me. Too often the oppressed becomes the oppressor.
  • Janet Reno was mocked and scapegoated. But no one succeeded in discrediting her. She could not be bought by any political party. He allegiance was to the law. The first female Attorney General.
  • Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and author. Seeing him speak at Linwood College in Oregon years ago was profound. Two things he said that stay with me: “Silence is a denial of the truth.” And, “Never call a human ‘illegal.’”

And there was Maurice White of “Earth, Wind, and Fire.” Pat Conroy whose books needed better editors but were raw, brutal, and powerful. Playwright Edward Albee’s “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff” blew the lid off of marriage.

Each year a reminder of loss and a twinge of grief. And each year gratitude for both the extraordinary and ordinary persons who left their mark.

Peace, Shalom, Salaam,

Rev. Lo

‘Tis the Season of Expectations

‘Tis the season of gift giving. It is practically unavoidable. I have heard stories from those who lived through the Depression of how getting an orange (and only an orange) at Christmas was the gift of all gifts. I am not sure how an American child would respond to that sort of gift today. I remember friends who were Quakers who gave their twins one gift each at Christmas and no more. I was saying to Lori that you have to start that kind of thinking and level of expectation when children are very, very young. But then there are the grandparents and other relatives who see it as their duty and right to shower your children with gifts. It gets complicated, doesn’t it?

Rather than fight this gift giving, I offer the following to consider before buying holiday and for that matter, any gifts:

  • Usefulness
  • Made of sustainable materials?
  • Sustainably made?
  • Can return to the earth
  • Handmade
  • Needed
  • Educational
  • Can be refurbished or refashioned?
  • Handed over to be cherished anew
  • Handed down- carrying tradition
  • No battery or outlet required to use
  • Sends the child outdoors
  • Allows for discovery
  • Experiences rather than “things”

Or perhaps this formula for the holiday season: Give one gift that the child wants and one they need. Or a book, an article of clothing, and a food treat.

Take time during the 12 days of Christmas to do a thorough inventory of one’s things and adopt the discipline of giving away one thing a day for 12 days.

My hope for you in this next month is that you can keep the stress level low, expenditures low, and delight high by simply being in the “presence” of those whom you love.

Peace be with us all,

Rev. Lo

Sanctuary

The question was, “what is or are your places of sanctuary?” He was probably 15 or 16 and he answered that he found sanctuary when listening to music and when playing video games. I asked him to tell me more about why video games were a place of sanctuary for him. He said, “Because it is the only place I have control.”

My places of sanctuary have always been the wild places where I knew that I had no control. It is the vastness and uncontrollable nature of these wild places that allow me to place my life in perspective. They assure me that there is something larger than me. Something large enough to hold me.

His place of sanctuary was of control. My places of sanctuary are the places where I surrender all illusions of control. I was struck by the difference. So I wonder, do you find sanctuary in the places where you have control or in the places where you in essence, let go of and turn over control?

Rev. Lo

Mourning a Lost Name

She said,  “You’ve lost a name, not a person.” She is Marci Owens who used to be Marcelas Owens. When Marcelas’s mother became ill with pulmonary hypertension, she ended up missing so many days of work due to her illness that she lost her job and consequently her healthcare. She became an advocate for health care reform but died before seeing or benefiting from the Affordable Care Act. Her son, Marcelas, picked up her torch and became a tireless advocate for health care reform. At age 11,he and his grandmother were invited to the White House for the signing of the Affordable Care Act.

Now 17, Marcelas is a transgender woman named Marci. Her statement above was in response to her grandmother’s lamenting the loss of the little boy, Marcelas. His grandmother actually went on to say that she also loved that she has gained another granddaughter.

Marci nailed it as far as I’m concerned. Transgender folks haven’t been lost, they have been found. They have found themselves. Their name and gender may change but their personhood has not been lost. And yet, it can take time for family and friends to realize that what they perceive as being lost was really a case of being found. It is not uncommon for parents to go through grieving the child they had originally known as one gender. They have to celebrate and let go of that child and welcome and embrace a differently gendered child into their hearts. But as Marci said, what has been lost was a name, not a person.

So today I celebrate not just Marci but her grandmother who loved her grandchild so much that she gave herself over to both grief and joy. May we all follow her lead.

Peace, Shalom, Salaam,

Rev. Lo

 

Three Drops

One of the wonderful things about traveling to other congregations is that I get to hear colleagues preach. On my recent trip to Fairbanks, Alaska to participate in the installation of the minister there, I was able to attend worship on Sunday morning. The Rev. Sarah Schurr, one of several Congregational Life Staff for the Pacific Western Region, was the preacher. The title of her sermon was, “Three Drops.” She talked about being an idealistic 23-year-old social worker who was going to save the world. But it wasn’t long before she realized that all she could do was be three drops.

Sarah went on to explain that drops of water can wear away stone. But only if they drop in the same place, consistently over time. She could offer three drips on one rock or one issue as opposed to saving the whole world. That got me to thinking about WUUC taking on the identity of being three drops of water in our world. That we would either focus on three areas of ministry for the year and drop away at it or that we would focus all our energies on one justice issue and drop away at it together for that year. Imagine what could be worn away…

Even if WUUC doesn’t adopt this identity, I find the three drop metaphor one that any of us can individually incorporate into our lives. Can we focus our lives and our living on three areas we want to affect and apply our “drops” there consistently over time? Would we be more effective at bringing about change if we narrowed our focus and channeled our energy? The choice of where to drip one’s drops is completely up to the individual. But drip and drop we must…

As the singer-songwriter Holly Near invites us:

“Can we be like drops of water falling on the stone
Splashing, breaking, dispersing in air
Weaker than the stone by far but be aware
That as time goes by the rock will wear away…”

Rev. Lo