[1/22/06] In Faith - After the Fall
by Rev. Patti Pomerantz
Sometimes I think it's a good thing that my time with you in Moscow is only one year. With as many tumbles as I've taken, I'm not sure I'd survive here much longer! My last fall, number three, occurred in Portland. It was not dark, or icy or wet; it was not unknown territory--it was outside my house. I did a face plant onto concrete in front of family and neighbors--bloody, painful, embarrassing and ego shattering. I checked in with my doctor and there doesn't seem to be anything physiological--which is a good thing. Except now I have to find a different answer to why I keep falling. There must be something else going on that I'm not paying attention to.
Sure some of it is being 52, overweight, klutzy, and preoccupied. But there's more. I didn't get it when I fell in the yellow house, or when I slipped on the ice outside. Banging my head once, twice didn't seem to be enough--I had to get cut, go the emergency room, get x-rayed and cat scanned and stitched; face my friends and family with an ugly black eye and swollen face. In other words, I had to be stopped in my tracks, forced to slow down and pay attention. It would be an understatement to say I was surprised by what I saw. After all the analyzing and reflecting and talking I saw how the falls all come down to my own lapse of faith. And so it is with humiliation I share this reflection on faith with you--there will perhaps never be a more apt example of my preaching what I most need to hear. This time the stakes are really high for me--if I don't get this I'm afraid I will get hurt even more seriously.
Faith is one of those words that Unitarian Universalists love--even if we love to hate it. Faith has more meanings than we will ever come up with; we can discuss the differences and the meanings of the meanings for ever and ever; it has something to do with religion, God, spirituality, without actually being any of those things. But it is not the definition I need to talk about with you today. I need to see how it works, or in this case doesn't work, in my daily living.
For me, faith, like God is a metaphor for a universal intangible. It provides a common word within which we can share our different theologies. Faith is part of the connective tissue of the universe and whether we think we have it or need it or not, it is part of how each of us connects to the world. Faith is relational--it impacts how we behave with one another as well as how we relate with the larger universe. Faith is a mindset, something to practice. And like all practices, it can always be strengthened, improved, or for a time ignored.
If our goal in life is at all related to living our Unitarian Universalist principles, which by the way are printed every week on the back of your order of service--faith cannot be dormant for too long. Like anything we repress, at some point it will surface whether we want it to or not. At least that's how I understand what happened to me--and I do have the stitches to prove it! When we tell each other to keep the faith, or to have faith, or sign our letters in faith, as I often do, I think we are reminding each other to look beyond our rational perspective in our daily living.--It is an invitation to a deeper understanding of how we act in the best interest of the universe, and therefore to each of us; how we can act in ways that strengthen our connection to one another and the greater good. These days faith seems hard for me to find. My life is too scattered to keep hold of it. I'm too busy juggling my different lives to be intentional about looking for the deeper meanings. I see brief glimpses, but it's hard to reach for it. Mostly I think I report on observing it. "Just the other day," I’ll tell you, "I got a glimpse of faith and now I want to cajole you into looking for it in your own life, attaching yourself to it. Trust me, it'll be good for you and good for us."
But does holding up faith for you to see make me faith-full? I may be doing my job, but am I attending to my own life? And, can I be a good minister to you if I don't minister first to myself? It seems I needed to be hit upside the head with a two by four almost literally to see the answer. While we usually think of falling out of faith, I think perhaps I have been falling into it.
I thought I was keeping faith--I thought I was living in the present here with you. And that thought disguised my lapse of faith. It was quite inadvertent. As I hope most of you know by now, I love my work here with you. Having taken a half-century to find this passion, I just can't get enough of it. I rest, take breaks because I have to; and I often lament that I am not 20 years younger when I had more energy than I do now. I complain about my search for a called ministry because it takes me away from my work with you. Working with you is like being in love--a little incredible, extremely joyful, and totally distracting. I've seen similar passion in much of your work, your love of family, your unwavering commitment to celebrating the joy in your lives, the gift of caring for one another you practice.
There were signs. You kept questioning my pace--"are you sure you have time for that, Patti?" "Are you feeling all right?" "Are you going to actually take time off on your day off?" "Yes, yes, yes," I faithfully replied. Embarrassingly, I've asked the same thing of some of you. How many times have you heard me say that outcome is not nearly as important as process. An outcome can't be positive if those involved don't survive the process. This aspect of faith is a mind-set, trust in yourself that those who depend on you--family, colleagues, clients--are getting what they need from you. Patience, trust--faith that who you are is enough. This is foundational to my understanding of faith - who I am, what I do, is enough. Running through each day, running from one thing to the next, trying to do everything, even when on some level I know it is at the expense of self-care is a breach of faith. I promise that I will not urge you onward in this practice until I've learned to do it myself.
But faith in who I am lives on the surface of my life. I think of it when I'm prioritizing my work, when I'm questioning a decision I've made, when all I can do in the face of someone else's pain is be there with them. It is faith in who I am that let’s me do things I never imagined myself doing. It is faith that brings me up to this pulpit, that writes this message to you. It is the faith I discovered after 9/11 when I finally understood there will not be peace in my lifetime, even if I devote every part of my being for every minute of my life, I cannot make world peace happen. It led to both crisis and relief. Now I know that all I can do is live who I am now with integrity. It is this faith in my own sufficiency that helps prepare me for the long haul--to approach the issues I am most passionate about, where the work is never done, and where I never have the resources to do all that needs to be done. Who I am, what I do is enough.
But that is not all there is to faith. There's a second aspect of my personal faith that is more than who I am. This faith connects me to the larger universe. It is faith that there is something, some source of energy, some life source beyond my control that invites me into right relationship with it. This is the faith of political theologies that have been vying to own it for centuries. This is the faith that speaks to those in our communities who hold beliefs we think are harmful. This is where it is all too easy to be arrogant, even contentious. This faith can hold us steady as we dig ourselves deeper and deeper into the mire of isolation that seems to pervade our lives and culture. Thankfully we each have a heart which helps us see beneath our political drives, through which we can discern what we must do, even when it's inconvenient, or uncomfortable. I need this faith. I need to believe that there is more to my existence than personal need. I have to believe that I will help the world if I just pay attention to how we are connected.
To breach this faith has high stakes. It can take me into place of isolation, where I see my actions out of context; where my needs are most important, if only because they're the only ones I see. In this place there is no hope to stretch for. In this place I no longer feel an obligation to consider how my actions will affect you, because I no longer feel how we are connected. In this place connectivity is replaced by ego, generosity is overcome by greed, faith is drowned by selfish need.
This is why I must believe in God--if I did not, I would fall into despair--not just about what's going on around me, but what would go on inside me as well. Repressing that belief, that need for connections I cannot fully name or understand is why I keep falling--I keep forgetting that I am more than my body and my thoughts and actions. I am also a part of the deep mystery that connects me to each of you and each being in the universe. And that connection should be always in the forefront of my mind. Without faith, I forget that I can trust the decisions in my heart, that my control comes from letting go of it.
I think I'm back on track now. I haven't fallen in three weeks. I've slowed down. And most important, I’ve turned my vision inward, away from the 2 x 4 into my heart. That is the attention I have not been paying--and I've been paying for it very dearly.
This weekend I met briefly with your search committee. I told them I had absolute faith that they would find the right candidate for your settled minister. Now I just have to remember the same goes for me. I must practice being faith-full all the time. I think it will make my road a little smoother. May it be so. Please, may it be so.
(c) Rev. Patti Pomerantz 2006
Sometimes I think it's a good thing that my time with you in Moscow is only one year. With as many tumbles as I've taken, I'm not sure I'd survive here much longer! My last fall, number three, occurred in Portland. It was not dark, or icy or wet; it was not unknown territory--it was outside my house. I did a face plant onto concrete in front of family and neighbors--bloody, painful, embarrassing and ego shattering. I checked in with my doctor and there doesn't seem to be anything physiological--which is a good thing. Except now I have to find a different answer to why I keep falling. There must be something else going on that I'm not paying attention to.
Sure some of it is being 52, overweight, klutzy, and preoccupied. But there's more. I didn't get it when I fell in the yellow house, or when I slipped on the ice outside. Banging my head once, twice didn't seem to be enough--I had to get cut, go the emergency room, get x-rayed and cat scanned and stitched; face my friends and family with an ugly black eye and swollen face. In other words, I had to be stopped in my tracks, forced to slow down and pay attention. It would be an understatement to say I was surprised by what I saw. After all the analyzing and reflecting and talking I saw how the falls all come down to my own lapse of faith. And so it is with humiliation I share this reflection on faith with you--there will perhaps never be a more apt example of my preaching what I most need to hear. This time the stakes are really high for me--if I don't get this I'm afraid I will get hurt even more seriously.
Faith is one of those words that Unitarian Universalists love--even if we love to hate it. Faith has more meanings than we will ever come up with; we can discuss the differences and the meanings of the meanings for ever and ever; it has something to do with religion, God, spirituality, without actually being any of those things. But it is not the definition I need to talk about with you today. I need to see how it works, or in this case doesn't work, in my daily living.
For me, faith, like God is a metaphor for a universal intangible. It provides a common word within which we can share our different theologies. Faith is part of the connective tissue of the universe and whether we think we have it or need it or not, it is part of how each of us connects to the world. Faith is relational--it impacts how we behave with one another as well as how we relate with the larger universe. Faith is a mindset, something to practice. And like all practices, it can always be strengthened, improved, or for a time ignored.
If our goal in life is at all related to living our Unitarian Universalist principles, which by the way are printed every week on the back of your order of service--faith cannot be dormant for too long. Like anything we repress, at some point it will surface whether we want it to or not. At least that's how I understand what happened to me--and I do have the stitches to prove it! When we tell each other to keep the faith, or to have faith, or sign our letters in faith, as I often do, I think we are reminding each other to look beyond our rational perspective in our daily living.--It is an invitation to a deeper understanding of how we act in the best interest of the universe, and therefore to each of us; how we can act in ways that strengthen our connection to one another and the greater good. These days faith seems hard for me to find. My life is too scattered to keep hold of it. I'm too busy juggling my different lives to be intentional about looking for the deeper meanings. I see brief glimpses, but it's hard to reach for it. Mostly I think I report on observing it. "Just the other day," I’ll tell you, "I got a glimpse of faith and now I want to cajole you into looking for it in your own life, attaching yourself to it. Trust me, it'll be good for you and good for us."
But does holding up faith for you to see make me faith-full? I may be doing my job, but am I attending to my own life? And, can I be a good minister to you if I don't minister first to myself? It seems I needed to be hit upside the head with a two by four almost literally to see the answer. While we usually think of falling out of faith, I think perhaps I have been falling into it.
I thought I was keeping faith--I thought I was living in the present here with you. And that thought disguised my lapse of faith. It was quite inadvertent. As I hope most of you know by now, I love my work here with you. Having taken a half-century to find this passion, I just can't get enough of it. I rest, take breaks because I have to; and I often lament that I am not 20 years younger when I had more energy than I do now. I complain about my search for a called ministry because it takes me away from my work with you. Working with you is like being in love--a little incredible, extremely joyful, and totally distracting. I've seen similar passion in much of your work, your love of family, your unwavering commitment to celebrating the joy in your lives, the gift of caring for one another you practice.
There were signs. You kept questioning my pace--"are you sure you have time for that, Patti?" "Are you feeling all right?" "Are you going to actually take time off on your day off?" "Yes, yes, yes," I faithfully replied. Embarrassingly, I've asked the same thing of some of you. How many times have you heard me say that outcome is not nearly as important as process. An outcome can't be positive if those involved don't survive the process. This aspect of faith is a mind-set, trust in yourself that those who depend on you--family, colleagues, clients--are getting what they need from you. Patience, trust--faith that who you are is enough. This is foundational to my understanding of faith - who I am, what I do, is enough. Running through each day, running from one thing to the next, trying to do everything, even when on some level I know it is at the expense of self-care is a breach of faith. I promise that I will not urge you onward in this practice until I've learned to do it myself.
But faith in who I am lives on the surface of my life. I think of it when I'm prioritizing my work, when I'm questioning a decision I've made, when all I can do in the face of someone else's pain is be there with them. It is faith in who I am that let’s me do things I never imagined myself doing. It is faith that brings me up to this pulpit, that writes this message to you. It is the faith I discovered after 9/11 when I finally understood there will not be peace in my lifetime, even if I devote every part of my being for every minute of my life, I cannot make world peace happen. It led to both crisis and relief. Now I know that all I can do is live who I am now with integrity. It is this faith in my own sufficiency that helps prepare me for the long haul--to approach the issues I am most passionate about, where the work is never done, and where I never have the resources to do all that needs to be done. Who I am, what I do is enough.
But that is not all there is to faith. There's a second aspect of my personal faith that is more than who I am. This faith connects me to the larger universe. It is faith that there is something, some source of energy, some life source beyond my control that invites me into right relationship with it. This is the faith of political theologies that have been vying to own it for centuries. This is the faith that speaks to those in our communities who hold beliefs we think are harmful. This is where it is all too easy to be arrogant, even contentious. This faith can hold us steady as we dig ourselves deeper and deeper into the mire of isolation that seems to pervade our lives and culture. Thankfully we each have a heart which helps us see beneath our political drives, through which we can discern what we must do, even when it's inconvenient, or uncomfortable. I need this faith. I need to believe that there is more to my existence than personal need. I have to believe that I will help the world if I just pay attention to how we are connected.
To breach this faith has high stakes. It can take me into place of isolation, where I see my actions out of context; where my needs are most important, if only because they're the only ones I see. In this place there is no hope to stretch for. In this place I no longer feel an obligation to consider how my actions will affect you, because I no longer feel how we are connected. In this place connectivity is replaced by ego, generosity is overcome by greed, faith is drowned by selfish need.
This is why I must believe in God--if I did not, I would fall into despair--not just about what's going on around me, but what would go on inside me as well. Repressing that belief, that need for connections I cannot fully name or understand is why I keep falling--I keep forgetting that I am more than my body and my thoughts and actions. I am also a part of the deep mystery that connects me to each of you and each being in the universe. And that connection should be always in the forefront of my mind. Without faith, I forget that I can trust the decisions in my heart, that my control comes from letting go of it.
I think I'm back on track now. I haven't fallen in three weeks. I've slowed down. And most important, I’ve turned my vision inward, away from the 2 x 4 into my heart. That is the attention I have not been paying--and I've been paying for it very dearly.
This weekend I met briefly with your search committee. I told them I had absolute faith that they would find the right candidate for your settled minister. Now I just have to remember the same goes for me. I must practice being faith-full all the time. I think it will make my road a little smoother. May it be so. Please, may it be so.
(c) Rev. Patti Pomerantz 2006
posted by UUCP Sermons at 12:28 PM
