First Unitarian Universalist Society of Middleboro

As we are gathered here this morning, exhausted workers in New York and Washington continue to strain against the rubble of the carnage, hoping against hope to find one more survivor. Anxious husbands, wives and parents wander from hospital to hospital in New York hoping too that by some miracle, their loved one has beat the odds and waits to be found in some hospital bed. Meanwhile, the obituary section of our newspapers grows, as bodies are painstakingly recovered and identified. In the mystery of this hour we confront the painful task of burying our dead.

Are you aware of a feeling that this is the calm before the storm? Now that the terrorist attacks seem to have stopped, there has come a stillness and silence across the country, punctuated only by the words and music of funeral liturgies. Shock and numbness which turned to sorrow and grief are quietly accompanied now by building anxiety and anger. The Living Section of the Globe Friday noted that Boston was experiencing another beautiful September day, with the sun shining, and the temperature brushing 80 degrees. But the point of the article was that underneath the veneer of "things as usual" nothing is the same. Because we lost more than the lives of our loved ones Tuesday, normalcy, in this instance, won't be restored by simply burying and grieving our dead

My husband, Larry, phoned Thursday morning while he was enroute to Boston for the first time since the attack. It would have been a routine commute, should have been, except for the fact that for the first time, he felt at risk simply because he was driving into a crowded area. Now we legitimately may feel at risk when we gather in large numbers, or if we live near a power plant or use public transportation. The individuals who died in last Tuesday's attack died specifically because they were American going about their business in the symbolic centers of America. As American dead they cry out now for us to create meaning from their deaths.

President Roosevelt took forty-five days to respond to Pearl Harbor as we entered World War II. Because America had been attacked on her own soil, most Americans felt no qualms about rushing to her defense. I imagine that those 45 days after Pearl Harbor felt eerily quiet. The challenge before us in the days ahead will be military, political and spiritual. This quiet can be a time of grace for America, a time for looking inward as a community, as well as outward, before additional events unfold- Psalm 46 says "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." This is a time to ask the spirit, however you name it, to draw near. Go deep. Draw from the deepest well within you.

This church was kept open on Friday from 12 noon to eight o'clock as we observed the National day of Mourning and remembrance. I'd like to thank Cheryl MacQueen and Dee Selzer who helped during those hours. I was here alone when 7 o'clock came round, the hour we had been asked to step outside with a lit candle as an act of unity across the nation. I lit a candle and stepped out onto the front steps. From my left a couple walked past the church with a lit candle. The bus from Boston discharged its passengers - some moved on, but a clump remained as one individual lit a candle from out of pocketbook or briefcase. Another couple retrieved a candle and stood by their parked car. Moments later, onto this tableaux there filed a solemn line of families from somewhere, possibly the Episcopal Church. I am not used to making patriotic gestures but the candlelighting felt right in its expression both of sorrow and community solidarity. I thought of the words of our chalice lighting we used this morning: "This is a time for drawing together. In our time of grief we light a flame of sharing, the flame of ongoing life. In this time when we search for understanding and serenity in the face of loss, we light this sign of our quest for truth, meaning and community."

The upcoming effort, whatever it turns out to be, may be a time of personal discomfort and anxiety for many Unitarian Universalists and other liberal religionists. For many liberal religionists, traditional patriotism is a garment that hasn't fit for many years. Perhaps you have demonstrated your love of country by urging the US to study and develop new nonviolent tactics such economic sanctions and mediation. Many of you have spoken out over the years - urging our government to use nonviolent measures whenever possible.

Unitarian Universalists shine when it comes to recognizing the inherent worth and dignity of sinners and sufferers alike. Because of our rejection of any description of humanity as inherently sinful, we abhor violence - we have worked hard at social causes from humane treatment for the mentally ill to eradicating hunger. Our religion has many strengths. But liberalism struggles with evil. We have trouble naming it and responding to it.

Here in this sanctuary, many of us remember the impassioned words of the Imam Talal Y. Eid from the Islamic Center of New England who spoke here last year, before all of this, on the prejudice experienced by his people in this country. We need to understand that these terrorists pervert the message of Islam. Muslims are not our enemy. Arabs are not our enemy. People of Middle Eastern descent are understandably frightened right now. They need our understanding and support.

But clearly, the terrorism that destroys American men, women and children wantonly and creates fear that undermines the very fabric of our society cannot be tolerated. It demands a response. And so, we are at a crossroads. Unitarian Universalist minister Forrest Church, of All Souls in New York, says "our hope[as a nation] rests in how well we balance justice and mercy, retribution and compassion, the might of weapons and the power of love. These visions, he says….will be at odds should we choose one … in place of the other. On the one hand, if hatred and vengeance spur our lust for retribution, rather than the greater quest for peace, we will but add to the world's terror even as we seek to end it. On the other, if we pray only for peace, we shall surely abet the spread of terrorism. Our hands will end up far bloodier than those that lift up arms against it."

Today's sermon was originally slated to be a beginning-of-the-year return to the basics of Unitarian Universalism. We will have to get back to that another week. Suffice it to say that this crisis calls for the kind of moral complexity with which Unitarian Universalists are willing to see the world.

America is at a crossroads. Today and tomorrow we bury our dead. But in the days ahead we will face the decisions that vest these deaths with the meaning that they will forever hold and which will define America in the days to come.

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned

With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains, but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,

They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled

is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.