Journeys
Julie Stoneberg, Ministerial Intern
The paradox of the pilgrim heart is that we
must live on the growing edges of our fears in order to be safe and that we
must become lost in strangeness to know we belong in it. The more we encounter the otherness outside
ourselves, the more familiar we become with the wilderness inside ourselves,
and
the more we understand our imperfect selves,
the more we become our better selves.
When we make friends with death, we are more present to life.
-Sarah York
In my case Pilgrim’s Progress consisted in
my having to climb down a thousand ladders until I could reach out my hand to
the little clod of earth that I am.
- Carl Jung
People usually consider walking on water or
in thin air a miracle. But I think the
real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on
Earth.
- Thich Nhat Hahn
If we are always arriving and departing, it
is also true that we are eternally anchored.
One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking
at things. -Henry Miller
Prelude Rigaudon - Campras
Sing
Out Praises for the Journey (#295)
- Purcell
Entering Music Come, Come, Whoever You Are
#188
Welcome and Announcements
Opening Words/Chalice Lighting In My Life - The Beatles
Each
of us walks a path. At this moment, on
this Sunday morning, we have chosen to come together, to meet each other along
our way. This moment is part of our
larger journey, and as such, this time is sacred and this space is sacred.
This
space is a sanctuary, a hallowed place, a place where we hope to connect with
our deepest sense of ‘home’. We come to
safe sanctuary in search for what might be missing… maybe a feeling of
fulfillment, or to connect with other travelers, or to feel that we belong, or
to feel safe, to know that our lives have purpose. We long to make connection with ‘home,’ even
as we acknowledge that we are constantly en via…constantly on a journey.
Each
journey is unique, and along the way, we come to intersections, where we meet
the known and unknown, things that affirm us, and things that challenge us…
crossroads uniquely experienced and somehow universal. It’s not always easy. As Thich Nhat Hahn says, the real miracle is
to walk on this earth.
Singing Together Touch the Earth,
Reach the Sky! #301
Children's Focus The North
Star - Peter Reynolds
In this story, a young boy awakens and starts his journey in the
world. Along the way he encounters many
things that direct his travels…a racing rabbit, a cat with a specific agenda, a
floating leaf, confusing road signs, a bird, stars, a frog… and eventually he
learns that everyone has their own journey and are guided by different signs. In the end, he follows a bright star, and
rows out onto the ocean.
Children's Blessing Where are You Going?
Prayer and Meditation Lost - David Wagoner
Stand still.
The trees ahead and the bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here.
And you must treat it as a powerful
stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen.
It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again,
saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on
you,
You are surely lost. Stand still.
The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
A time for silent
meditation.
Great
guiding spirit, we come together today from many places, heading toward many
destinations. Sometimes we move forward,
other times we feel that everything around us is changing too fast. We celebrate our journeys even as we
sometimes struggle to take the next step.
Often we do feel lost, or aimless, and must quiet ourselves to
listen. Listen. The forest around us breathes and reminds us
that being Here, being in the moment, is always a powerful stranger that calls
us toward better knowing and toward better understanding. This is our journey. This is our wonderful, sacred journey. Blessed
be.
Sharing Our Gifts You Raise Me Up - Lovland & Graham
Message and Readings
As
I approach my last days in Wausau, I find myself reflecting on the
journey. It is serendipitous that I
arrived here, somewhat mysterious …it was almost shocking, or at least
surprising, that it came to be. In my
first month here, the Forum group asked me to speak with them about ‘how I
ended up here’, as if my presence were some strange anomaly. Yet, isn’t this the way of life? Every day, in small and big ways, we encounter
things that surprise us and change us.
We read a book that gives us valuable insight; we trip and break a bone;
we meet someone who becomes an important force in our lives; we come across
something so painful that our hearts break open; we make a decision that seals
the course of our next few steps. Have
you ever seen the movie “Sliding Doors?”
In it, a young woman’s life is shown to unfold on two parallel paths…one
if she’d gotten out of the subway on the right side, and the other if she’d
disembarked on the left side. Because of
that small, seemingly inconsequential choice, her future would take two
divergent paths. We don’t have the luxury of predicting exactly what effect
each choice or circumstance will have…we can only make the best choices we are
able to in the moment and then we must travel on.
Traveling. Journeying.
It’s what we do. It is no
surprise that journey is oft used as a metaphor for life. We talk about life that way. We go through life from birth to
death. We carry on with our
lives. Life must go on. I’d go so far as to suggest that life really
IS a journey, not just to be compared
to a journey. It goes beyond metaphor or
analogy. We do journey through time, we
travel across interior landscapes, and we move through the stages of our
lives. And, just as journeys contain
starting points, paths and destinations, so do our lives. We are born, we live and we die. In each
moment, in each decision, there is a place we start from, a place we end up at,
the places in between, and, if we’re so blessed, a direction. Some journeys have specific destinations in
mind, while others may seem to wander without purpose. Sometimes we plan ahead by studying glossy
travel brochures, others just seem to happen to us. A person living a life is literally a
traveler, traveling the ‘course’ of a lifetime.[1]
I
am interested today in the intersections we encounter in our lives…the
crossroads, the connections, the road bumps, the wayside rests, and inns…and
how we are changed by those intersections.
We walk along, and we meet people…we come across treasures and
curiosities… we find things that we can only shake our heads at in wonder. Sometimes we encounter things that scare the
begeebers out of us. Sometimes these crossings are joyful or stimulating. If we’re lucky, we might, if only for a
moment, come to a place of understanding our place in the grand scheme of
things, a place where we connect with the wisdom of our personal Polaris. And, once in a while we come to a crossroads
and we stop. We rest a moment, and
consider where we have been and try to decide where we should go next.
Thinking
about that kind of a moment brings the Wizard of Oz to mind. I love the scene where Dorothy, just
beginning her journey down the Yellow Brick Road, comes to a crossroads and
there meets the Scarecrow. At first, she
doesn’t notice him. He blends into the
landscape, lost behind her momentary perplexion over the confusing signs. Even after he speaks, Dorothy doesn’t listen,
because back at home, in her previous experience, she had learned that
scarecrows don’t talk. Toto has to
convince her that indeed, they are not in Kansas anymore…this Scarecrow
talks, and Dorothy is forced to change her outlook on scarecrows, for this bag
of straw is to be a meaningful companion for her on her journey.
Joey
Green has written a charming little book called The Zen of Oz, in which
he explores the connection between the Yellow Brick Road and the road to
enlightenment. After all, isn’t that the
road we all hope to be on? The road to
enlightenment? Seen in this way, the
people and calamities that Dorothy encounters on her travels are but zen
masters… teaching her that she already possesses the attributes she seeks most
passionately. What she has encountered
along her path has only helped her to realize that there is no place like the
home that she carries within. But she
had to cross a threshold into a foreign land in order to learn that lesson.
Reading 1:
This
is why we need to travel. If we don’t
offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense
of wonder. Our eyes don’t lift to the
horizon; our ears don’t hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass
our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost
our dreams in order to protect our days.
Don’t
let yourself become one of these people.
The fear of the unknown and the lure of the comfortable will conspire to
keep you from taking the chances the traveler has to take. But if you take them, you will never regret
your choice. To be sure, there will be
moments of doubt when you stand alone on an empty road in an icy rain, or when
you are ill with fever in a rented bed.
But as the pains of the moment will come, so too will they fall
away. In the end, you will be so much
richer, so much stronger, so much clearer, so much happier, and so much better
a person that all the risk and hardship will seem like nothing compared to the
knowledge and wisdom you have gained.
-
Kent Nerburn in Letters to My Son
In
the end, you will be so much richer, so much stronger, so much clearer, so much
happier, and so much better a person, says Kent Nerburn, because of your
travels. In this passage, Nerburn is
talking about the literal kind of trip you might take…the kind when you grab a
backpack, hitch a train, and head for places unknown. The analogy of life as a journey seems to
break down here, because we all know those who would seem not to have been made richer, stronger, clearer or happier for
having walked the path of life. Why is
this? Well, first, it’s important to
remember that we cannot judge the value of someone else’s life journey. Each path has inherent worth and
dignity. But I do think that the value
is not just in the journey itself, but also in how we walk the path, how carefully we attend to what comes our
way, how intentional we are about our learning.
And this is where using Nerburn’s analogy really works…for when we move outside
of our comfort zone, when we are willing to move through the fear of the
unknown, when we choose to truly experience that which is other than
ourselves…well, there, however painful it may sometimes feel, there is that
which makes it all worthwhile.
Reverend
Sarah York, who is currently serving as interim minister in Durham, North
Carolina, has written a book about journeys that she titled Pilgrim Heart. In it, she distinguishes the ordinary
traveler from one who chooses to walk with the heart of a pilgrim…that is, an
open attitude. With that attitude, a
journey becomes something more – it becomes a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage begins with being receptive to
change, with a declaration of a willingness to let go of the places in one’s
life that have become too comfortable. A
pilgrimage begins with taking time to reflect on what you want from the
journey, to offer up your fears into the open air, and to declare how you want
your life to change. Such an expression
of intent has the effect of declaring your time as sacred time and your space
as sacred space.
Why
do I keep saying that? You might even flinch when I say the words like “sacred”
or “hallowed.” Let me explain. For me, to claim something as sacred means to
recognize its importance…to acknowledge it as being worthy of respect. This is evident in the Buddhist practice of
greeting one another with one simple word, Namaste. This means, “I recognize the sacred in you. I recognize that in you which may be a Buddha
one day.”
I’d
love to apply this kind of perspective to every crossroad, every
encounter. Can you imagine a world, or
even a church community, in which everyone were to greet every person they met,
every idea they came across, every obstacle or road bump in their way, every
chance occurrence with this word and this attitude? Namaste.
I believe there is meaning in this
moment. Namaste. I can see the holy in you.
When
I was in seminary, I took a course called “Dance as Social Action.” I won’t explain the whole premise of the class
to you, but one of our exercises was to move about the room with two simple
instructions. First, always be either
walking, running, or standing still.
Second, if you should bump into someone, say ‘thank you’. Thank you for bumping into me. Thank you for touching me.
I
see this attitude in the boy in the children’s story. His is a personal journey, begun without any
particular direction in mind. He grows
and explores, and he encounters many signposts and guides. Each encounter has an effect on his next
step. Seemingly unaware of that impact,
or at least nonplussed by it, he greets each new experience with respect and
trust. “Well, if you say so…”, he
responds to the cat with the agenda, even as the cat directs him into the
swamp. “Where are you blowing, little
leaf?” he asks as he follows its path, and his noticing of the leaf later
provides him with the inspiration that will save the stranded rabbit. “I respect your decision to live in this
pond”, he says to the frog, even as he makes a decision to move on in search of
his own star. I have to think, too, that
meeting the boy changed the frog…I’ll just bet that from that day on, the frog
will ponder the stars from his lilypad.
Indeed,
we are changed by all that we encounter, everyone that we meet, and in turn, we
change everything that we touch.
Reading 2:
[The Desert
Dweller] has lived in the desert so long that all of its moods have long since
become a part of the daily rhythm of his life.
But it is not that fact that is of crucial importance. For many years, it has been his custom to
leave a lighted lantern by the roadside at night to cheer the weary
traveler. Beside the lantern, there is a
note which gives detailed directions as to where his cottage may be found so
that if there is distress or need, the stranger may find help. It is a very simple gesture full of beauty
and wholeness. To him, it is not
important how many people pass in the night and go on their way. The important thing is that the lantern burns
every night and every night the note is there, “just in case.”
Years
ago, walking along a road outside Rangoon, I noted at intervals along the way a
roadside stone with a crock of water and, occasionally, some fruit. Water and fruit were put there by Buddhist
priests to comfort and bless any passerby – one’s spiritual salutation to
another. The fact that I was a traveler
from another part of the world, speaking a strange language and practicing a
different faith, made no difference.
What mattered was the fact that I was walking along the road – what my
mission way, who I was – all irrelevant.
- Howard Thurman in Meditations of the Heart
Leave
a lighted lantern or some water by the roadside at night to cheer the weary traveler,
even those from another part of the world, speaking a different language or
practicing a different faith…what a beautiful way to model a more intentional
journey, a journey that acknowledges the potential in every encounter. In the story of Jesus’ birth, from the
Christian tradition, you might remember that some said, “There’s no room at the
inn” – and they missed out on being part of a miraculous story. Don’t be that person. Leave a candle to light
the way. Take a detour to build a boat
for a stranded rabbit. Invite someone to
accompany you on your road to Oz. Earl
Daniels from the Northwest UU Church in Atlanta, writes this about the metaphor
of the journey, and I quote:
“We all have relationships with people who
add to our lives, who make our journeys better. Even those potholes in the road
– with whom we have conflicts – provide us opportunities for growth that open
new avenues for the future. In turn, we
are an integral part of the spiritual journey of every person with whom we have
relationship. Imagine the possibilities
if we approach relationships as vehicles for spiritual growth – to make it the
central reason for being in relationship with others. With awe and compassion, each encounter with
another person can be a moment of discovery, another step on the journey, for
both you and them.”[2]
We
are all learners, journeyman if you will.
Whether we recognize them or not, there are always gifts from those we
encounter along the way. Some gifts we use; others we discard or put aside for
a rainy day. We step onto the path and a
candle lantern left by another traveler lights our way. We meet those who guide us, and the path we
walk provides guidance for others. This
is how meaning is made of our lives….Take time to notice the guides… Pay attention to those pesky Zen masters - who
can be found everywhere! Be grateful for
their lessons and then pay it forward.
Leave a lantern for a traveler who speaks a different language or
practices a different faith.
This
is how meaning is made of our lives. All
relationships, says Daniels, are vehicles for spiritual growth. A pilgrimage, York says, reflects an attempt
to join our physical world with our human purpose. Sometimes that joining, that meaning-making,
happens accidentally; other times it requires great courage. Sometimes we have road maps. Sometimes we are traveling uncharted
territory. It is just a fact of life…we
are people en via… constantly on a
journey, ever in search of truth. We
believe that revelation is never sealed, that the truth is always unfolding,
always just ahead, and usually, goll darn it, just out of reach. As we come into contact with ‘the other’, we
take in new information, and we learn.
We get a bit closer to home. And
our journeys are richer.
Sarah
York calls this process “reincorporation”…saying that the pilgrim leaves in
order to return to home. In our
encounters with strangeness and discomfort, we learn to befriend that which is
‘other,’ and a part of that strangeness becomes a part of us. We reach out of ourselves, we travel new
paths, we are touched by something new, and then we carry it all back home
again. In this process we are
transformed, which means that pilgrimage is always
a journey of both risk and promise…because if we are open to transformation,
home, who we are, may not be the same when we return. After each new experience, our lives are
different. We will be different. We can’t go home again because home is not
what it was and we are not who we were.
That’s scary. But it’s also very
exciting. The possibility of change
provides the foundation for all of our hopes.
Isn’t
this a paradox? We have to be willing to
change in order to know who we truly are.
The more we encounter the otherness outside of ourselves, the more
familiar we become with the wilderness inside ourselves. It is a delicious balance of traveling and
standing still to take note. We are not
lost, but we are constantly in
search. Each encounter creates a changed
sense of home…and I would contend that each encounter, each changed sense of
home, provides us with a more true picture of what home really is. The goal of the journey, after all, is to
become more…at home. The journey is right
Here. A Tibetan chant says it perfectly…
“I am moving on a journey to nowhere. I
am moving on a journey to nowhere.”
This
Rumi poem is an important part of my morning ritual, and helps me to greet the
day with openness to whatever lies ahead.
It goes like this:
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy a meanness, a depression, some sudden awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all.
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house empty of its furnishings,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
You
know, Dorothy would have made a great Sufi…because of her willingness to
befriend each unusual being along her path, her ability to learn from them
increased, even as she remained committed to her own journey. I think we can each take a lesson from
Dorothy and choose to make of our life journey a pilgrimage. Open ourselves to transformation, be grateful
for whatever comes by recognizing the sacred in each encounter, and use what we
have learned to light a lantern for others.
My
stay at this wayside rest has been a sacred one. My life has been significantly changed
because of this encounter. I recognize
the holy in each of you. Namaste.
Singing Together We Laugh, We Cry #354
Benediction
Postlude
When the Saints Go
Marching… - arr. Salli