Norbert Capek was not just the inventor of the Flower Ceremony, he was a devoted father. So when Flower Sunday happened to fall on Fathers' Day, it was clearly time to talk about Capek's life. I realized by the response to what I said that this was a story unfamiliar to many members of our congregation. (Yes, I get it -- if I don't tell it, no one else will!) They didn't know he had re-planted Unitarianism in Czechoslovakia, that the teachings of his church about freedom of thought and growing your faith from within were considered treason once the Germans came, that he had died in a gas chamber after being worked nearly to death in Dachau.
It feels as if the channels for spreading UU stories to adult members of this congregation, for teaching the UU's of Manchester, New Hampshire, about our very own movement, are very thin. There's Sunday morning. There's the often unread newsletter. There's the library -- unfunded, and a new part of our enterprise, so not a really well-developed resource and not yet widely used. And there's the Adult Enrichment program, most effectively used for teaching spirituality these days. There's this blog, and its companion meant for the local community. I'm intrigued by the flow of comments on my Eagle Scout reflection -- maybe this channel is not as thin as I think.
Our own website is mostly used for sharing information about events, and the UUA's website is so big and complex, it's hard to know and access what's on it. I'm thinking that as the internet gets to be more like TV, it could be possible to share more stories that way. But could we do it well? accurately? attractively? And I'm wishing someone else would do it, of course. Days seem very long already. So much to share, so little time! And so few channels to attract and hold their attention!
I'll hold the good thought, do my best, and hope to say what needs to be said in ways that convey it to those ready to absorb. So much to do, so little time!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Flight of Eagles
There were three of them this year, young men from our congregation who completed all the work to become Eagle Scouts in the Boy Scouts of America, the highest level of scouting. They are now scouts for life, according to the way of the BSA. They worked hard in different ways, one with a project to create a little park in a downtown neighborhood, another with a soccer camp and used-equipment collection to benefit young Iraqi soccer players, and the third with a huge project to brighten up the meditation garden at our church. All of them showed leadership and creativity. All of them learned lessons of character and citizenship that will be with them all their lives. So of course, we honored them with little ceremonies in church. The first was in January, and the second was just today, June 8. We felt proud.
We also felt a little ambivalent. Not about the young men who earned this honor. But about the relationship of the values of our religious movement with those of the larger Boy Scouts of America. We feel a little sneaky and underhanded as we celebrate our flight of Eagles, because we are painfully aware that the BSA does not accept boys and men who have minority sexual orientations. Two of our adult members earned the rank of Eagle Scout. One of them proudly volunteers in the local scouting organization, at times feeling conflicted about the values of his church and the values of scouting. He assisted in the presentation of our congratulations to our new Eagles. The other, a gay man, has returned his insignia and certificate. He did this because he knew the scouts would not have accepted him if they had known of his sexual orientation.
When I spoke with this second man, the one who resigned, he said that yes, it was okay for us to celebrate the new Eagles in our flock. Much of who he is as an adult, he said, had to do with what he learned through scouting. So he was glad for the experience. And yet, he is not welcome. I'm sorry it has to be like this. I'm glad that scouting is there for those of our boys who fit in with their program. I salute their achievement. I hope the presence of Unitarian Universalist adults among the ranks of scout leadership will help bring change from within.
We also felt a little ambivalent. Not about the young men who earned this honor. But about the relationship of the values of our religious movement with those of the larger Boy Scouts of America. We feel a little sneaky and underhanded as we celebrate our flight of Eagles, because we are painfully aware that the BSA does not accept boys and men who have minority sexual orientations. Two of our adult members earned the rank of Eagle Scout. One of them proudly volunteers in the local scouting organization, at times feeling conflicted about the values of his church and the values of scouting. He assisted in the presentation of our congratulations to our new Eagles. The other, a gay man, has returned his insignia and certificate. He did this because he knew the scouts would not have accepted him if they had known of his sexual orientation.
When I spoke with this second man, the one who resigned, he said that yes, it was okay for us to celebrate the new Eagles in our flock. Much of who he is as an adult, he said, had to do with what he learned through scouting. So he was glad for the experience. And yet, he is not welcome. I'm sorry it has to be like this. I'm glad that scouting is there for those of our boys who fit in with their program. I salute their achievement. I hope the presence of Unitarian Universalist adults among the ranks of scout leadership will help bring change from within.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Old People
I spent much of the month of May's "extra" time attending to the pastoral needs of a dear old lady and her family as she drifted gently toward death. I was glad to do it. We had her memorial service on May 31, an excellent time, because there are flowers in everyone's garden that could be gathered to brighten the church. She herself had often brought garden flowers for services, so it reminded us of her. She and her husband had lived long lives in a network of communities. They had been vital participants in the activities of our congregation, of Star Island, their family, and several other organizations dedicated to worthy causes. We all loved them. Her husband had died last October, leaving her, after sixty-some years, adrift in a world without him. It was a conscious decision on her part -- she wasn't feeling well, she didn't want to go on without him -- there was a moment we all knew that she had decided no to go on living.
It was sad to realize that this was happening, yet there was nothing to do but accept. And gradually, the life force ebbed from her body, although she remained alert in the moments when she was not too tired. Her family gathered. Her friends dropped in for short visits. She loved people, so these visits revived her while they lasted. But it became clear she was allowing herself to get overtired -- so the visits had to end. We hated that part.
Sometimes, when someone in her nineties dies, hardly anyone remembers. We had another elder lady die last fall, someone who had been out of touch with the congregation for years, living in a retirement home, someone whose interests had all faded as she aged, who had slipped more deeply into dementia in recent years. Her husband had died in the spring, and by fall, she was ready to "go and be with him." Much about her story was the same -- a long marriage, a long life into her nineties, the death of her beloved husband a few months earlier, a decision not to go on living. And when it was over, there were a very few people who remembered and still cared. They had had no children, and most of their friends has passed from this life before them. The nephew and niece who were their guardians did care, but there was no other extended family who chose to be at the memorial service. A dozen old people gathered, plus the nephew -- the niece had gone back to the midwest where she now lives-- to remember her life and say goodbye.
Not so with our lady of May. When we celebrated her life, over two hundred relatives and friends crowded into our modest sanctuary. There were so many stories -- touching, funny, poignant, colorful -- together we summoned up a hologram of her presence, resolved to be like her as much as we could, laughed and wept, and bid her farewell. It was a death that had come in its time, since it is imprudent to make any claims on the future at ninety-one, and yet we all wished she had gone on living -- just a little while, for us. And there was so much food. Her son had sent word not to make a fuss, only to be told that not fussing was not going to be possible. Everyone wanted to bring something to the reception. This was a good thing, because everyone wanted to stand around and talk and eat and drink punch and coffee for a long time, even after a long formal service.
It's not really true that we choose our endings, although I suspect there is more choice than we think, those of us on the outside. Having watched these dear elders live their last days, weeks, and months, though, I suspect there are some things we should remember as we lurch forward into old age. Mainly, it seems to be about having friends and having interests. Life continues to flow through us as we remain engaged with the living of it. Belonging to a church, with its constant resupply of people of younger ages, seems just right. As the lives of the younger ones help maintain the interests of the older ones, the wisdom and simple presence of the older ones blesses the younger ones. Families can sometimes be like this, but families can get small. A person needs multiple communities and multiple interests long into old age, no doubt about it. There truly is something wrong with shutting people away into colonies of the elderly and letting them find community only among people in older age. Let the doors be open between the generations!
It was sad to realize that this was happening, yet there was nothing to do but accept. And gradually, the life force ebbed from her body, although she remained alert in the moments when she was not too tired. Her family gathered. Her friends dropped in for short visits. She loved people, so these visits revived her while they lasted. But it became clear she was allowing herself to get overtired -- so the visits had to end. We hated that part.
Sometimes, when someone in her nineties dies, hardly anyone remembers. We had another elder lady die last fall, someone who had been out of touch with the congregation for years, living in a retirement home, someone whose interests had all faded as she aged, who had slipped more deeply into dementia in recent years. Her husband had died in the spring, and by fall, she was ready to "go and be with him." Much about her story was the same -- a long marriage, a long life into her nineties, the death of her beloved husband a few months earlier, a decision not to go on living. And when it was over, there were a very few people who remembered and still cared. They had had no children, and most of their friends has passed from this life before them. The nephew and niece who were their guardians did care, but there was no other extended family who chose to be at the memorial service. A dozen old people gathered, plus the nephew -- the niece had gone back to the midwest where she now lives-- to remember her life and say goodbye.
Not so with our lady of May. When we celebrated her life, over two hundred relatives and friends crowded into our modest sanctuary. There were so many stories -- touching, funny, poignant, colorful -- together we summoned up a hologram of her presence, resolved to be like her as much as we could, laughed and wept, and bid her farewell. It was a death that had come in its time, since it is imprudent to make any claims on the future at ninety-one, and yet we all wished she had gone on living -- just a little while, for us. And there was so much food. Her son had sent word not to make a fuss, only to be told that not fussing was not going to be possible. Everyone wanted to bring something to the reception. This was a good thing, because everyone wanted to stand around and talk and eat and drink punch and coffee for a long time, even after a long formal service.
It's not really true that we choose our endings, although I suspect there is more choice than we think, those of us on the outside. Having watched these dear elders live their last days, weeks, and months, though, I suspect there are some things we should remember as we lurch forward into old age. Mainly, it seems to be about having friends and having interests. Life continues to flow through us as we remain engaged with the living of it. Belonging to a church, with its constant resupply of people of younger ages, seems just right. As the lives of the younger ones help maintain the interests of the older ones, the wisdom and simple presence of the older ones blesses the younger ones. Families can sometimes be like this, but families can get small. A person needs multiple communities and multiple interests long into old age, no doubt about it. There truly is something wrong with shutting people away into colonies of the elderly and letting them find community only among people in older age. Let the doors be open between the generations!
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