The Gods Found in Our Congregation:
Members' Reflections on Their Understanding of Divinity
(Third in a month-long sermon series on "God")
To which God shall I pray today? Not to a God who wears a God Bless America T-shirt. I'll pray instead to a God who reminds every Muslim, and every Christian, and every Hindu, and every Buddhist, and every Jew, [and every Unitarian Universalist] to sit down for a minute and shut up. I'll pray to a God who whispers: Listen to the rain hitting the sidewalk. Listen to the whistling teapot and the barking dog. Listen to each other and everyone breathing the same air together. Sit down. Listen."
- Sy Safransky, editor, The Sun
Introduction
A kindergarten teacher watched her classroom as they drew. She noticed one little girl working diligently. The teacher walked over and asked her what she was drawing. "I'm drawing God," the girl replied. The teacher paused and said, "That's nice honey but no one knows what God looks like." Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing the girl replied, "They will in a minute."
I suppose some might interpret this as an example of human arrogance, but to me it seems healthy and wise. The truth is every concept of divinity involves a contribution of human creativity and imagination. And this is a good thing. We all have unique needs and experiences. So to be real, relevant and meaningful, our understanding of the sacred must come from an internal, authentic place rather than an external authority.
These writings are a number of such efforts to "draw" and discover a personally true and relevant understanding of God. Each member graciously shared their writings during the worship service, helping all gathered to better articulate their own thoughts about the divine. We hope reading these stimulates similar clarity for you.
With gratitude for the wonderful diversity of thought in our congregation,
Reverend Scott Tayler
The Gods In-And Out-Of My Closet
I find them everywhere--in the sunrise, in my one-year old's giggle, in age-old traditions, in the courageous surrender of a friend on the brink of death. Pieces, particles, and even whole gods-examined, collected, and eventually stuffed into the back of my closet. Some of them I've had for years, hand-me-down heirlooms I may have outgrown but can't bear to give away. Others I've meticulously stitched by hand from an assortment of eclectic fabrics. In fact, I've got a closet full of gods that I try on for size when I need one. Some I save for special occasions: the God That Sustains Through Funerals; the God of Family Get-togethers.
Others appear when I least expect it: God the Savior, God the Jokester. I am in awe of the God of Nature, and mystified by the God of Time. I'm still struggling with the God of Relationships, and grateful for the God of Second Chances.
Amidst my menagerie of Gods, there is one that appears most often, a God who refuses to remain in the closet, hidden amongst the dusty refuse. This is the God of Questions, the God of Human Longing-a God as familiar as my favorite worn-out jeans, and as intimate as my own skin. For I have done more than wear my gods on the outside; I have also swallowed them like a holy wafer and made them a part of myself. And they have begun to echo in the still small miracle of my voice-- in my questions, in my searching, and in my longing toward the discovery of life and all its gods.
Terri Pahucki
God and Home
I'd like to share a memory with you of an incident that happened to me when I was in junior high school.
I was sitting in the back seat of a van along with other teenagers, and we were being driven by one of the parents to the next town for a youth group meeting It was wintertime in Wisconsin and we were in the midst of a big snowstorm.
All of the sudden, our car went off the road and began to slide down a ditch beside the road. I was sitting next to the window, and as I looked out the window I saw a telephone pole coming straight at me. I was sure that this was it, and in an instant, I closed my eyes and said, "here I come God". When I opened my eyes, the car was headed in the opposite direction and the telephone pole was now on the other side of the car.
I'll never know exactly what happened, but the significant part of this memory for me is that in that moment I felt no fear. I simply felt like I'm going home. In reflecting upon this memory I realize that for me the word God is synonymous with the word home.
Donna Gates
She Lived a Moment in my Soul
She lived a moment in my soulsurrounded by the contradictions
that love me
Like embracing opposites
living within me and every
decision of every moment
seeing the intricate world
for what it is
what it could be
whatever I want it to be
Keeping a faith
a small glowing ember
within the recesses
of my flowing
ever flowing
ever knowing being
She lived a moment in my soul
and surfaced unscathed by
the ancient demons
who tortured my mind
body and limb
until I was that black
bottomless puddle
that sullied one's shoes
She lived a moment in my soul
without pretense or judgment
a casual observer
with a flair for compassion
passion
vision
and acceptance
or so I choose to believe
I continue to believe
She lived a moment
but a brief moment
in my soul
and left quietly
oh so quietly
with ruffling feathers
light dripping echoes on the surface
but sunken footprints
never to tarnish
cast in gold.
Kristy Funderburk
IN GOD
To intellectualize is good-
It serves a purpose./
But at this moment I need to get out of my head.
God-I say the word
What am I feelilng?
With God-In God
i feel:
clear-focused/centered
uncluttered
Firm-courage/strength
Restful-unbothered
Humbled
here is PEACE-
i am IN Peace
i am IN God
Joan Chapman
GOD in Two Days
Email on Monday; Class on Wednesday.
Two days to write about God - or god - or gods - or maybe no god. Often, I like to begin with definitions, but with God, finding a definition is part of the problem. Once, as a child, I had definitions. I had details. I had dogmas. In my Episcopal Church confirmation class I was taught exactly what I believed. That exercise didn't strike me as strange until I reached the age of relative reason years later.
But childhood beliefs fade and my world of the Old and New Testaments expanded as I discovered, am still discovering, so many different gods: the sometimes scandalous Greek and Roman gods; amazing Egyptian gods; Hindu deities in all their hard to remember complexity; the teachings of Islam; a wonderfully serene Buddha. And there are so many more gods: Mayan, Incan, Aztec, Native American, Maori, Zoroastrian - on and on.
There is such an endless confusion of gods, some of them all tangled up together, some much more fun than others, some somber and demanding. There has been a universal search for god in so many cultures, a search which has found - or maybe created - these many gods.
So, for me - still no definition - no clear choice. Just a state of unknowing, perhaps a mind too small to adequately grasp the GOD concept.
But maybe not too small to contemplate the mystery! Or perhaps to have faith? But in what? Goodness - truth - kindness - glimpses of transcendence?
Two days (plus decades) and no decision yet.
Marcia Blacklin
A Proliferation of Gods
For me, god is ever changing and forever sought. The elusive object of alchemy's misplaced dreams and the psychological phenomenon of emotional relativities as they mix with the desire to control one's environment and explain all these random acts of joy and pain. Yet these intermittent bouts of chaos and order can be appreciated, even as we acquiesce to it or act against it. From rock, to river, to soil dissolving in the muck between our toes it forever washes all around us. So, what is god but a tumultuous issue of will as it acknowledges the mysteries of creation? No matter how we categorize it or rationalize it we are creatures fascinated and confused by our will.
It seems that whatever my explanation, the underlying issue seems to be one in which I must consider how my actions act as some type of foundation for those that come after. My god is not a river that can be dammed, it is a flow that eludes such opposition. To some god is a force that damns, but to me it is loves unfolding exhibition. It is what we can do to birth the inevitable joys and pains from our eternal quest for honesty. The attempt to balance the selfish being with the altruistic being as they navigate amongst the millions of other factions and fractions that coexist within me. And that metaphor travels still to fill this world with others that are bouncing around with their own philosophies of mental pinballs interacting and influencing and participating in love, and war, and peace. And my quest for balance, even if it is only a psychological fantasy , is something that I feel should be acted towards. Our gods exist only in our attempt to reach for those things we believe in, without being deceived in, why we choose or fail to choose such actions.
Matt Shackelford
In The Name of The Father. . .
I don't know this God,
this all knowing, all loving, forgiving God.
The God who...never gives you more than you can handle.
I don't know God the father or God the son and
I can't seem to find God the mother.
When I was 13, I climbed 40 steps on my knees at the shrine of the virgin.
If I was humble enough and worthy, she would answer my prayer and take the
illness from my mother but... I was neither
and my mother died.
It was a long walk back down those stairs.
I don't know this God.
My father rants; he is unkempt and smells of neglect and choices
I cannot control.
He can no longer see my face
and all my prayers that begin..."dear God, how can this be?"
go unnoticed.
I do not know this God.
But each morning the sun rises and birdsong fills my heart.
No matter how harsh the winter, hopeful shoots rise in the spring.
The ocean waves never cease and
the autumn leaf does not complain when it is time to let go and fall.
This is the God I know.
My blessed hands have loved deeply, birthed life, buried a child and dried
the tears of the dying and somehow there is always light.
This is the God I know.
My father rests his hand in my lap as I cut his yellowed fingernails
Holding on a bit too long, reluctant to lose him to the street, yet again.
He speaks quietly as if the sound of his own words is too harsh.
"Thank-you" he says.
This is the God I know.
Tina Simson
These past two weeks I have been in the mountains, of Colorado and Vermont, looking for God. Or at least looking for what I might write about God. God is not a word I use very much. I don't call on him or her for help, don't worship him, don't live out her plan for my life. The question of whether or not God exists doesn't matter much to me. What I do with my life does.
So, should I rephrase the question - should I ask, "what do I think is holy"? Love, trust, forgiveness, doing good for others and this world?
Last week in the mountains of Colorado I held my new grandson, a few days old. Tiny, beautiful, truly a magical marvel. And I watched my son, his father, gently and lovingly care for him and his mother, and those were holy moments. In the mountains of Vermont I watched green leaves slowly turn to red, hiked to rushing waterfalls, soared above the trees and fields, and those, too, were wonder-filled, holy moments.
I do not talk about God very much, but I feel every day a presence around me, holding me, sustaining me, giving my life moments, like these, of meaning, and purpose, and joy.
Vicki Schwartz
If I Push You Away
My belief in God is not original, but it changes my life daily. God is not absent and only the creator of the heavens and the earth; instead, each one of us is filled with the divine presence. As Jesus was called the Son of God, we are also daughters or sons of God - no exceptions. So each day, I don't retreat and pull away from other people; instead, to see God, I look to you. Each one of us is equal because we are all divine, and I must be humble before you. As God is awe inspiring, every other person is, also. The best way for me to know God is to try to know you intimately. So, my belief in God changes how I approach life and people. It makes me remember that I need to be loving, open, and patient with others. If I push you away, then I push away God.
Rob Ruehl
Words of Blessing
"That Which Holds All"
by Nancy Shaffer
Because she wanted everyone to feel included in her prayer,
she said right at the beginning several names for the Holy:
Spirit, she said, Holy One, Mystery, God.
But then thinking these weren't enough ways of addressing
that which cannot be fully addressed, she added particularities,
saying, Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love, Ancient Holy One,
Mystery We Will Not Ever Fully Know,
Gracious God,
and also Spirit of This Earth, God of Sarah, Gaia, Thou.
And then, tongue loosened, she fell to naming superlatives as well:
Most Creative One, Greatest Source, Closest Hope ---
even though superlatives for the Sacred seemed to her
probably redundant; but then she couldn't stop:
One Who Made the Stars, she said, although she knew technically
a number of those present didn't believe the stars had been made by anyone
or thing but just luckily happened.
One Who Is an Entire Ocean of Compassion, she said,
and no one laughed.
That Which Has Been Present Since Before the Beginning, she said,
and the room was silent.
Then, although she hadn't imagined it this way,
others began to offer names:
Peace, said one.
One My Mother Knew, said another.
Ancestor, said a third.
Wind.
Rain.
Breath, said one near the back.
Refuge.
That Which Holds All.
A child said, Water.
Someone said, Kuan Yin.
Then: Womb.
Witness.
Great Kindness.
Great Eagle.
Eternal Stillness.
And then, there wasn't any need to say the things she'd thought would be important
to say,
and everyone sat hushed, until someone said: Amen.