"A Theology for Night"

 

I write a rough outline of sermon topics several months ahead, in part so other aspects of the worship such as music may be put in place. In July for this day I had noted two points:  the first was "Yom Kippur begins at sundown," and the second was, "September 15 is still very close to 9/11 -  check out beamerfoundation.org as a resource."

Let's deal with the first note first - the fact that Yom Kippur begins tonight at sundown. The Jewish New Year, or Rosh Hashanah, begins a cycle of ten days known as the Days of Awe or Days of Repentance. This is a time to consider the sins of the previous year, a time for serious introspection as Jews are reminded they face God's judgment as a matter of life and death.  Jewish prayers, songs and rituals during this time focus on the many ways people go astray, and they ask forgiveness for occasions in which worshippers have missed the mark.

Worshippers are encouraged to ask themselves questions such as:  "How can I grow as a person? How can I live in better relationship to God?   How can I bring tikkun olam, which, translated means, repairing the world?  These days culminate in Yom Kippur. Not to face up to these questions is to choose spiritual death.

There's a very interesting thing about Yom Kippur that I've always noted.  The prayers used in actual worship asking for forgiveness and repentance are almost exclusively in the first person plural. Religiously, Jews have an individual and a collective responsibility to live in relation to God. The use of "we" instead of "I" reflects Judaism's strong identity as a people. They are responsible for themselves and for their people as a whole. After Yom Kippur, during which they have fasted, Jews eat, drink and rejoice.

I'd like to set all this aside for a moment and turn back to the other note I had made for myself that morning - our proximity to the anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center and Washington.  9/11 is too big an event in our psychic reality to simply memorialize it in a day, or in a week, and then be all done with it. As  Unitarian minister Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "The cannon does not allow anything to be heard for miles and years around it." It does not matter what I say today, our ears will still hear it through the reverberating din of the attacks; the commentary and the memorial bagpipes are still fresh within us.

I had made a note to check out the Todd Beamer Foundation web site. Todd Beamer, you may recall, was on United Airlines Flight 93, the plane that crashed in rural Pennsylvania on Sept. 11.  Beamer's last words, just before joining others to confront the hijackers were, "Let's Roll." The resolve of Beamer and those with him to die saving others, rather than passively, was evident in his words, which have since captured the imagination of America. His wife, Lisa has been a ubiquitous guest on radio and television programs, and has been asked frequently to comment on the meaning of 9/11 for ordinary Americans. 

This week when I clicked on the Beamer Foundation web site, I was greeted by a quote about 9/11 from Lisa Beamer. Her words were direct, and deceptively simple:

 "As we look ahead, the challenge for me and for all of us, is that we would use this day - maybe even on an annual basis, as a time to stop and look at where we were and where we are going.  And make sure that these things we do every day are in line with the people we want to be."

        --Lisa Beamer, wife of Todd "Let's Roll" Beamer, flight 93

 The sentiment she expressed was strikingly familiar. Her cautionary words deliver the exact message of Yom Kippur.  "Stop.  Look at where we are and where we are going… Make sure the things we do every day are in line with the people we want to be."

 Every temple, every synagogue around the world resonates with this sentiment right now. My first thought was that the Beamers must be Jewish.  But it's widely known that in his final conversation on  flight 93, Todd Beamer gathered strength from reciting the Lord's Prayer with a Verizon Airphone operator, and he and his wife were both Sunday school teachers.

 "What a coincidence, I initially thought,  that Lisa Beamer's words are so perfect for Yom Kippur! But now, after further reflection, I have decided that there was no coincidence at all.  At our best, we are meaning-making creatures. When tragedy breaks our world apart we are driven to make sense of what happened. How do we live in a world capable of this? Why did this happen?  Because this has happened, what are we to do now?   Where does my responsibility lie, and what is our responsibility as a people?  Yom Kippur is asking us to assume responsibility for our own little piece of the world, and so is Lisa Beamer.

 Todd Beamer did that on Flight 93. He assessed his situation and his possible role in it.  He said a prayer and then he took responsibility for the situation along with a few others whose names we'll never know.  Other actions were available to them.  They could have put their heads under an airline pillow, or cried, or pretended it wasn't happening or spent their last moments dreaming images of their loved ones. Lisa Beamer wasn't on Flight 93.  She's on a different flight. Breathless, her own grief laid bare, her prominence unexpected, she is reflective, attempting to assess where her plane is headed and how she will act,  to give her life maximum meaning in view of her values and in terms of her relationship to God and the situation she is in. She is suggesting that it is appropriate for us all to do this as well. 

  She probably knows nothing of the religious demands of Yom Kippur, but she seems to instinctively recognize the spiritual demands of the times.  And so here we are, on our own flights, within the context of our own families, within Unitarian Universalism and in our country. These are our Days of Awe - this is our time. Where are we? Where are we going?  Are the things I do each day in line with the person I want to be?" These questions apply to us as individuals to us as the American  people, and to us here as Unitarian Universalists. We ignore these questions at our peril.

 We can rage, we can whine or decide we have no power, or we can act in some small or large way. I feel like turning the radio and television off, and do sometimes. But to disown public life, in the long haul, would be a spiritual cop-out.

 The Greek poet C. P. Cafavy writes powerfully of copping out in his poem entitled The City:

 "You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.
Another city will be found, better than this.
Every effort of mine is condemned by fate;
and my heart is -- like a corpse -- buried.
How long in this wasteland will my mind remain.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see the black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted."

New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods;
in these same houses you will grow gray.
Always you will arrive in this city. To another land -- do not hope --
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have ruined your life herein this little corner,

you have destroyed it in the whole world."

  So there really is no escape from the responsibility which is ours.  Strength, growth, life with all its hues, comes out of engagement.

 So many of you have mentioned how wearing it is to turn on the news, to hear any more about terrorism, or to listen to policies take shape with which you disagree. This is a time of darkness. Our country is confronting increasing danger, experiencing the greatest threats to its physical safety in its history.  National civil liberties are being curtailed in the name of national security. There is a great national conversation at hand. The questions Where are we? Where are we going?  Are the things we do each day in line with the country we want to be?"  are on the table. There are certainly no easy answers to the problems at hand.  But one thing is sure -  good citizenship requires that we participate in the discussion. As advocates of freedom, reason and tolerance, this is a time for Unitarian Universalists to pay attention and to engage.

 I think of these encouraging words by poet Miguel De Unamuno;

 "Shake off this sadness, and recover your spirit…
the one who wants to live is the one in whom life is abundant….
Throw yourself like a seed as you walk, and into your own field,
Don't turn your face for that would be to turn it to death
And do not let the past weigh down your motion.
Leave what's alive in the furrow…
For life does not move in the same way as a group of clouds;
From your work you will be able one day to gather yourself."

With your order of service this morning you received a wallet-sized copy of our purposes and principals.  Unitarian Universalism has no creed.  But what we do have is a set of ever-evolving ideal that we covenant to affirm and promote. I invite you to become familiar with them, consider the wisdom contained there, and think about these ideals in the days and weeks ahead, as our national debate continues.

Let us reflect for a few moments in silence, each of us alone with the deepest and most vulnerable part of ourselves:

As Unitarian Universalists we believe that each individual is free to determine what is finally good and right and true. And that freedom carries with it the responsibility for each of us to honestly and vigorously seek out life's deeper meanings and to act in concert with those meanings. So  let us remind ourselves that the liberal religious quest is neither trivial nor inconsequential, but of primary concern if we are to live well and fully. Therefore, let us reflect upon the ways each of us feels called upon to change and grow and to participate in public life.  And let us resolve that in the days and weeks to come we may live closer to that ideal.  Let us reflect for a few moments in silence upon the possibilities for our lives.   AMEN