Chalice Lighting
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
Clear-cut answers
to a softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
At the brink of death;
For something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes . . .
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.-Anne Hillman
Call to Worship
Come fearlessly into this church community,
Which welcomes, with enthusiasm, all people of love and hope.
Come, worship with us.
In the Book of Isaiah, it is written:
The spirit of God has sent me
To bring the good news to the oppressed,
To bind up the broken,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And release the prisoners,
To comfort all who mourn,
To give them a garland instead of ashes,
The oil of gladness instead of mourning,
The mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
They shall raise up the former devastation,
The devastations of many generations.
You shall be named ministers of our God.
Reading – “Waiting for Godot” by Samuel Becket
Larry Bory – Vladimir, Henry Ernstthal – Estragon
(Edited and adapted by Rev. Gelbein)VLADIMIR: Here we are at last!
(Looks at Estragon who has taken off his boots and set them down.)
What are you doing?
ESTRAGON: (Looking up at the moon.)
Pale for weariness.
VLADIMIR: Eh?
ESTRAGON: (Still looking up at moon.)
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the likes of us.
VLADIMIR: Your boots, what are you doing with your boots?
ESTRAGON: (Turning to look at the boots.)
I’m leaving them there. (Pause.) Another will come, just as … as … as me, but with smaller feet, and they’ll make him happy.
VLADIMIR: But you can’t go barefoot!
ESTRAGON: Christ did.
VLADIMIR: Christ! What has Christ got to do with it? You’re not going to compare yourself to Christ!
ESTRAGON: All my life I’ve compared myself to him.
VLADIMIR: But where he lived it was warm, it was dry!
ESTRAGON: Yes. And they crucified quick.
(Silence.)
VLADIMIR: We’ve nothing more to do here.
ESTRAGON: Nor anywhere else.
VLADIMIR: Ah, Gogo, don’t go on like that. Tomorrow everything will be better.
(The two freeze, and pause. Count to 10.)
ESTRAGON: (Listening.) They’re coming!
VLADIMIR: Who?
ESTRAGON: I don’t know.
VLADIMIR: How many?
ESTRAGON: I don’t know.
VLADIMIR: It’s Godot! At last! It’s Godot! We’re saved!
(Pause – looking about.)
Not a soul in sight.
ESTRAGON: Tell me what to do.
VLADIMIR: There’s nothing to do.
ESTRAGON: Do you see anything coming?
VLADIMIR: No.
ESTRAGON: Nor I. What do we do now?
VLADIMIR: While waiting.
ESTRAGON: While waiting.
(Silence.)
(The following exchange starts slowly, then speeds up.)
VLADIMIR: We could do our exercises.
ESTRAGON: Our movements.
VLADIMIR: Our elevations.
ESTRAGON: Our relaxations.
VLADIMIR: Our elongations.
ESTRAGON: Our relaxations.
VLADIMIR: To warm us up.
ESTRAGON: To calm us down.
VLADIMIR: Off we go!
(Vladimir hops from one leg to the other. Estragon imitates him.
ESTRAGON: (Stopping.)
That’s enough. I’m tired.
VLADIMIR: (Stopping.)
We’re not in form. What about a little deep-breathing?
ESTRAGON: I’m tired breathing.
VLADIMIR: You’re right. Let us not waste our time.
(Pause vehemently.)
Let us do something, while we have the chance! At this place, at this moment, all humankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily, for once, the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us. What do you say?
(Estragon says nothing.)
It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons, we are no less a credit to our species. … But that is not the question. What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come …
ESTRAGON: Ah!
VLADIMIR: Or for night to fall.
(Pause.)
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? But, in all that, what truth is there?
(Estragon is dozing off. Vladimir looks at him.)
He’ll know nothing.
(Pause.)
Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave-digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
(He looks again at Estragon.)
At me, too, someone is looking, of me, too, someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on.
(Pause.)
I can’t go on!
(Pause.)
What have I said?
(Silence. Estragon wakes up and stretches.)
ESTRAGON: Then all we have to do is to wait on here.
(Looking at a tree.) That tree … Pity we haven’t got a bit of rope.
VLADIMIR: (Motioning to leave.) Come on.
(They don’t move. Freeze. Count to 10.)
ESTRAGON: How long have we been together all the time now?
VLADIMIR: I don’t know. Fifty years maybe.
ESTRAGON: I sometimes wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off alone, each one for himself. We weren’t made for the same road.
VLADIMIR: (Without anger.) It’s not certain.
ESTRAGON: No, nothing is certain.
VLADIMIR: We can still part if you think it would be better.
ESTRAGON: It’s not worth while now.
(Silence.)
VLADIMIR: No, it’s not worth while now.
(Silence.)
ESTRAGON: Well, shall we go?
VLADIMIR: Yes, let’s go.
(They do not move. Freeze. Count to 20, then exit.)
Sermon:
“The Door is Opened:
A New Reality Waits at the Threshold”First of all – where are we?
The title of this sermon is --- “The Door is Opened: A New Reality Waits at the Threshold.” Let’s enter the metaphor for a while to think about where we are. We’re in some room, somewhere, and there is a door that has been opened just a bit. And, not only is it opened, sounds like something unknown is lurking just outside the door – something that will change life as we’ve known it.
Suspend logic. We’re not actually in a space called the Sanctuary, even though it appears that we are; and we’re not really sitting with other people; although it seems that we are. We are slowly moving into an abstract space – and, like the one that Vladimir and Estragon inhabited, it is the one that represents our life, as if in a dream, or in the space between dreams!
This inner room has objects in it and places to sit; it has rough flooring, and shadowy walls. There is a dark television set in a corner.
The light in the room is dim; a couple of lamps with 40 watt bulbs. The windows have a fake scene painted on them. You can see some old letters, calendars, dog-eared how-to books, and unsent invitations strewn about. Dusty blueprints are on a shelf, along with stacks of New Years’ resolutions and old grocery lists.
You get the sense that you have been in and out of this room over a long period of time. The atmosphere is intimate and terribly uncomfortable.
On one wall there is an old faded sign that says, “Waiting Room.”
Are you in the doctor’s waiting room, anticipating a cure for your condition?
Are you in the psychologist’s waiting room, seeking a healing that lasts?
Are you waiting at the airport to make yet another connection to your destination?
Maybe it’s all of the above.
My Mother used to tell me that girls waited for “Mr. Right” to come along. I remember waiting to be done with elementary school so I could go on to high school (there were no junior highs back then). Then I couldn’t wait to finish high school and go to college; then, there was the wait to graduate from college so that life could begin!
Some wait for the “right” time to do or say something. Some wait for their “ship to come in!” Some are waiting for their busy lives to quiet down so they can finally do what they really want to do.
The moments tick away. We grow, our bodies change, our knowledge and feelings deepen. We have so little time, and so much to do. Before we know it the circle of a year is closed. Our days scatter as leaves in the wind.
We seem to know who we are and what we want and what it’s all about; treading this path and that one, thinking we’re really moving in a clear and controlled direction and we’re safe.
This is the reason for the deep inner space of Waiting Rooms. When we hit situations that show us our direction isn’t at all clear, and we’re in control of a lot less than we had hoped, then everything goes on hold – time out! And we sit alone inside our Waiting Rooms, turn on the inner TV of racing images, and watch the door and listen for voices and try to manage the waves of boredom or fear that sweep over us.
It is, of course, this season of Advent that inspires all of Christianity to enter into a holy and anticipatory time of waiting. Like the Virgin’s sacred gestation period; to carefully prepare for a blessed event, when life as we know it brakes and skids to a halt and a new reality is born. The Good News is the coming of the Messiah, the Christ, the Savior.
For Unitarian Universalists, who don’t embrace this theology, Advent can still be instructive to our spirits. It is a rich metaphor for our lives. It gives us some precious time to slow ourselves down and force ourselves to NOT do anything. Nothing. Just wait, and see what surfaces, even if nothing does. Something may. The Waiting Room is located well under the running and the doing. It is the inner territory of inertia, the place where time stops, and we can’t “fill it.”
Here is a poem for you, by Ettore Rella, which, while describing the giddy stream of time that threatens always to wipe us out, tells us we can create space in slow time, much like a Waiting Room.
We seem to be slowed down enough for us to have
an illusion of space—deep and inhabitable.
Pulse rate, temperature and all our senses
convince us that the trees are standing still.
No, that’s not it,--the trees are enchanted too.
All of the nature that seems to ring us round
tapes out upon a magic ritardando
and we are able to walk across a room,
sit down at a desk and write a constructed poem
contained as definitely within its line
as we are in our bodies.
This isn’t true—
this deep and inhabitable and poignant space
standing so still—not true;--and illusion. We’re lucky,--
we couldn’t stand it if we were constantly aware
of being in the giddy stream of time;--and forever
and everywhere and that’s all there is—time.
Space is slow time—time for our sluggish senses.
But cast an eye backwards and you will see the corpses
upright and closer and closer together, careening
into the past like the ever more closely aligned
pickets of a fence outside the window of a train.
Or cast an eye forward. Time will break upon you
like a river at the flood and your precious little space will be lost
in the eddying and headlong sweep of debris
from some higher ground,--a chicken perched on a crate,
a water-logged book in some inscrutable language.
And yet although we know that there is really no time
When we can say now is now, nevertheless
our sweet and slow and miraculous senses tell us
that we are who we are and that we are standing between
the past and the future. We will no doubt continue
creating space out of time. What else can we do?
The poet describes the Waiting Room; it is the slow space we escape to between the past and the future.
It is the place where we can rummage through time as it continuously plays out, as in Waiting for Godot, and anticipate the coming of meaning and hope.
Samuel Beckett looks at human experience on earth; the pathos, the cruelty, comradeship, hope, corruption, absurdity and wonder of human existence. In his 1950s existentialist voice, he tells us in his play that faith in God has almost vanished. Almost, but not quite. It is as though the playwright sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely.
Even though our world has changed since the late fifties, the play touches the universal. The waiting goes on. It is a classic and poignant Advent statement without the Baby Jesus; a challenge for us to wrestle with uncertainty and mystery and despair, and yet, be deeply alert and receptive to meaning in new forms.
What else can we do?
But now, the Waiting Room door opens; is opened.
I like to think it is each of us that has turned the knob and cracked the door open. I like to think, this season, especially, that we are preparing for a new birth; that something new is coming, and we don’t want to be closed off from it.
The events of September 11 have shaken us deeply.
We hear the sound of fighter plans circling around us.
“Ground Zero,” we nervously smile…
We watch the faces coming into our minds
from the War Room on CNN:
Wolf Blitzer asking questions of Christianne Amenpour, who’s standing
in front of a camera somewhere in Pakistan or Afghanistan.
Incessant images of bombs, burqas, rubble,
barren mountains, poverty, guns,
old pick-ups on dusty roads full of Northern Alliance soldiers;
experts on war, on peace, on anthrax;
the still-smoking ruins of the World Trade Center Towers,
firefighters, police, Rudi Guilliani,
weeping relatives of the 4,000 dead in the towers;
driving by on Rt. 395 and looking at the gaping hole in the Pentagon.
The web of terrorism and religious fanaticism emerges –
tangled, extensive, rigidly focused, and formidable –
a festering hatred devouring minds and souls and bodies in its wake.
Feelings and aspirations so strong as these
building up, as they have been, for years
could not have been released except in violent conflict.
And, politics – always politics – talking heads
from all over the world
voicing their opinions, guarding their interests;
our President sounding like a cross
between the Lone Ranger and the Marlboro Man.
But, instead of being puzzled and frightened, I think lots of good people are becoming focused; focused on the great diversity of our human family, the complexity of our global connections, how close we really are to one another, how our culture effects others, and how much we have to give.
The truth of the new reality is that isolation, or separation, has been an illusion.
We are becoming one world – that is the fertile soil in which the new reality is growing. And, I think the opened door is revealing our new-found willingness to step into the world and be an agent for compassion and peace.
I watched an old movie last week. In it, Danny DeVito plays a salesman who tells his partner he is tired of all the “BS” salesmen have to go through to swing a deal. Phil, DeVitos’ character, says he’s tired, and he’s thinking of quitting the job. He hesitatingly, and softly explains that he wonders about God. His partner, Larry (Kevin Spacey), is incredulous and questions him with sarcasm and irritation. But Larry slowly becomes more attentive.
Phil says, “I have the feeling I have some purpose in life.”
He tells Larry of a dream he’s had.
He was in a city that had been bombed, and there had been fires. The city was destroyed, rubble and shells of buildings all around. He walks into the ruins of a building to discover that there was one closet left in tact.
He cracks the door open and looks inside.
“Larry,” Phil says, “There was God in that closet. He was huddled in a corner, frightened.”
“Then, you know what I did, Larry?”
“What did you do, Phil?”
“Well, he had the head of a lion, but I knew it was God. Then, I opened the door wide and took God’s hand, and I said, ‘You can come out now, God. Don’t be afraid. I’m here with you.’”
I couldn’t stop thinking about the Terrorist Attacks, and about Vladimir and Estragon waiting and waiting for Godot in a bleak landscape, empty of meaning and purpose.
And then my mind went to the metaphor of the Waiting Room, with its door, cracked open a little. Beyond, but on the threshold, the hint of a new reality.
What an unexpected, surprising, even outrageous, new reality; that the mystery of Life itself can need our compassion and comfort; CAN NEED US!
We mustn’t be supplicants. We mustn’t wait too long to get in touch with the feeling that we have some purpose in life. We are needed and we have more to give than anyone can imagine. Take Life! Take God’s hand in yours.
So? What are you waiting for??
Benediction
These are the words of the poet, Adrienne Rich:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
So much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those who, age after age,
perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.
-Amen, Shalom, and Blessed Be!
Amen.
