Opening Doors and Building Bridges by Rev. Michael McGee, March 15, 2009

Bubbles & Bricks: Opening Doors and Building Bridges by Rev. Michael McGee, March 15, 2009

        For the next three Sundays we will celebrate the promises of our congregation: hospitality, justice, and generosity, with none other than William Sinkford, the president of our Association preaching on justice next Sunday. But first, for one million dollars, answer this question correctly:

        “Why are you here in the Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington?”

Here are your choices:

        a) to be a part of a caring community of people who practice radical hospitality for all of those who need our message of hope and healing;

        b) to work with others who are committed to living their values and principles by making peace and justice and being stewards of our planet;

        c) to share your time, talent, and treasure so that the Beloved Community might be built for future generations;

        d) All of the above.

        I sure hope you know the answer. Let's hear it... For those of you who have seen the Oscar-winning movie of the year, “Slumdog Millionaire,” you know that I'm referring to the game show where Jamal Malik, an 18 year old “slumdog” from Mumbai tries to win a million dollars and the love of a young woman. It's a magnificent movie, though painful to watch.

        I'll explore the movie latter, but for now let's talk about that one million dollars. I promised that if you got the answer correct you could pledge one million dollars to our church. Right? Or did you misunderstand me?

        Isn't it worth one million dollars, if not more, to get all of the above, the caring community, the opportunity to work for peace and justice, as well as to grow your spirit of generosity? If not one million dollars, then how much is it worth to you and your family?

         Someone has said that, “All religions are guilt with different holidays.” I'm not trying to guilt you into giving a generous pledge. I hope you will be generous from an open heart and a genuine sense of hospitality. Or else...

        I spoke to our latest New UU group a couple of weeks ago about why we come to this church. New UU is an opportunity for those who are fresh to our faith and our church to learn about our history and theology – and each other. Because we have so many visitors to our church, we've gone from having a New UU class every four months to every three months to every two months, and we're planning on going to monthly. Thirty-six people were in this group. Isn't that great!

        We began by having everyone introduce themselves. I wish all of you could hear the touching stories of their spiritual journeys. I told them afterwards that their sharing was the most important part of the evening because they had expressed what is at the heart of our church. We are a religious community of people who feel free to share what we believe and why we believe it. Where else can people stand up and proclaim that they are atheists, agnostics, theists, pantheists, pagans, mystics, gay, confused, questioning, struggling, suffering, weird? Where else can people simply be themselves without being judged or condemned?

        We give everyone who walks through our door an incredible gift. It's the gift of acceptance, of inclusiveness, of hospitality. Do you remember the first time you walked through our doors – or the doors of another Unitarian Universalist church – and felt that thrill of not having to conform to the expectations and dogma of others, and instead being invited to actually speak from the heart about your convictions and doubts and beliefs -- and to listen to and learn from everyone else? Do you remember what it felt like to finally be home?

        Many of us come here because it is a sanctuary, a place where we feel accepted and embraced, a shelter for those who are condemned by others. But sometimes we come into this church, joyful that after all these years we've finally found a religious community for ourselves, and then we slam the door behind us. Not intentionally, but in subtle ways we snuggle into our pews, feeling blessed, but forgetful of those who stand outside wishing for a place they can call home, a sanctuary where they can feel safe and sacred.

        It could be something as simple as being reticent to share our faith with family and friends, or forgetting to talk to visitors at Coffee Hour, or not getting around to going to our multicultural workshops, or – and this is the big one – not adequately funding our church so that we can keep our doors open for all those who wish to come in. It has been said that, “Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even though you wish they were.” That's not the kind of hospitality I'm talking about.

        We are a faith that prides itself on opening doors that keep people apart. Our history as Unitarians is one of courageous people standing up to proclaim that our world is one, and that we should celebrate our differences and not be divided by them. Our history as Universalists is one of insisting that Love is our divinity, and our task is to reveal compassion in all that we do.

        We have opened not only theological doors, but those doors that shut out people because of the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their economic status, or their politics. We're not perfect, heaven forbid. Though our ideals are high, we struggle constantly against the primitive pulls of prejudice and fear, and we come here to do battle with those instincts in ourselves as well as our society. Our tradition is one of opening doors that shut people out. But opening doors is not enough. True hospitality is when we walk through them and then build bridges that bring people together.

        Rev. Wayne Walder, a parish minister in Toronto, told a story to a group of Unitarian Universalist ministers about visiting Peru on a spiritual pilgrimage. After an Andean Shaman gave a blessing to his group, Wayne asked him if he liked being called a Shaman? “He smiled, and said, 'I am not shaman, I am Chacaruna.' 'Chacaruna I said? What’s that?' He said in Catchwa, Chaca means bridge and runa means man. I am a bridge man. I help people cross the bridge...”

        We're all bridge men and women, aren't we? As parents we walk our children over bridges that span the many obstacles of growing up. As grown children we walk our parents over bridges of aging and illness and dying. As friends we walk those we care for over bridges of lost jobs and marriages and health. Hand in hand with our partners we walk over the treacherous bridge of relationship. And here in this religious community we walk each other over bridges of grief, of celebration, of deepening spirituality, and the struggle for justice. To be a member of this church is to be a bridge man or woman, as we accompany each other through the most difficult and joyful of times.

         Lately, our task has been walking each other over the bridge of fear and loss from the economic crisis that is gripping our country. Some of us have lost jobs while others are watching their retirement funds melt away. We all have friends and family members who are suffering.

        It's important to have a community of people to be a part of when you experience such a major loss in your life. I mentioned recently that studies show people who are a part of a religious community – any religious community – are significantly happier than those who aren't. I didn't tell you that not only are people happier, but they are also healthier. Jonathan Haidt writes, “Having strong social relationships strengthens the immune system, extends life (more than does quitting smoking), speeds recovery from surgery, and reduces the risks of depression and anxiety disorders... We need to interact and intertwine with others; we need the give and take; we need to belong.”

         In fact, a recent study shows that older women who regularly attend religious services reduce their risk of death by 20%. My God, church is a miracle drug! But the study shows that there's something more than the sense of community that makes church-goers healthier, and they don't know what it is. What do you think? I think it's the opportunity to build bridges.

        Just think of all the bridges we have built in our sixty years as a church, the biggest one being to our children and the next seven generations. We've learned that the walkway out front is not only a way to get into the church but it's a way to get out into our community. We've built a bridge to our community through our support of Culpepper Garden, an affordable housing unit for the elderly, our involvement in VOICE, Virginians Organized for Interfaith Community Engagement, to the Buckingham Community where we work side by side with our Hispanic sisters and brothers, to Beacon House where we work with disadvantaged African American children, and to many other partners in our community that are helping people survive and have better lives.

        We build bridges beyond our community as well when we send recovery teams to New Orleans, when we support our Partner Church in Romania, when we travel to Guatemala to stand with those who have been denied their rights. We are bridge-builders here, continually connecting with those who support our values and principles. Let me remind you that it's in times of crisis that we especially need to be promoting our principles and living by them.

        In “Slumdog Millionaire,” we see children growing up in horrendous conditions in the slums of Mumbai – which certainly puts our own problems into perspective. But the theme of the movie is that even in the most tragic of circumstances, there is always the possibility of love and redemption and hope.

        When I visited India several years ago, I was in Mumbai and other cities where the poverty was beyond comprehension. And yet I saw signs of hope in the Unitarian Universalist Holdeen India partners I visited – and whom we support -- where the poorest of the poor were organizing themselves to struggle for their political and economic rights. I remember speaking with one of the organizers, Manjula Pradeep, who is the director of an organization called “Navsarjan,” which means, “New Beginnings.” Navsarjan is a place where children are saved from being “slumdogs” by getting an education and training.

        Manjula told me her story of being born a Dalit, an untouchable as they were once called, with eleven siblings, no opportunity to go to school, hungry, beaten repeatedly by her father, and yet she managed to somehow overcome these tremendous obstacles and go to college and become a lawyer and organizer. When she told me about the many difficulties in helping women and children who are abused and mistreated, I asked her how she copes with so many defeats. She said that what keeps her going is to be able to look into the eyes of those children and women and see that in spite of their suffering a spark of dignity and hope still shines through.

        I know what she means. Though I have few of the obstacles she does, it's that spark in the eyes of the people of New Orleans, Romania, Buckingham, Guatemala, and in our own children, and in each other, that keeps me passionate about our church and our faith.

        Sometimes when the suffering of the world weighs me down, I ask myself, “Why am I here?” And my answer is, “To see that spark of dignity and hope in the eyes of those I care for, and then to make a difference in their lives.

        Isn't that why you are here? To see that spark and to make a difference. I ask you to make a difference this morning by being bridge-builders, helping our religious community to build bridges of hope and compassion to those here in this church, in our community, and around the world who need us. May there be no end to the doors we open and the bridges we build. May there be no end to our spirit of hospitality and generosity. May there be no end to our love and hope.

        Amen!