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Between Reddit and Facebook, I’m finding myself reading a lot of complaints and memes from atheists lately. And every time I do, I have one of three reactions:

1. Not ALL Christians believe that – stop generalizing.

2. I love science too, but I still have faith.

3. Stop prooftexting. We get it – the man-eating bear verse is absurd.

 It’s frustrating, because I often agree with the posts, which typically point out the hypocrisy of SOME religious folks in terms of their anti-science stance, their circular logic, or their hypocritical behavior. Yet I don’t know exactly how to tell them that there ARE people of faith – including some who call themselves Christians – who love science, who understand how human logic works, who understand/embrace/work through the many contradictions of sacred texts, who actually behave in the ways their religion tells them to (ie. Christians who follow Jesus’s teachings about the poor). And these are people who believe in something greater than themselves, who find the natural human compulsion to believe in something beyond themselves to be comforting, enlivening, enriching.

What I wish I could tell atheists is that there IS a way to be a person of faith and a lover of reason, to be a theist and a scientist, to profess faith in Jesus and actually work for the betterment of humanity and our home planet.

Yet what I find when I suggest this might be true is a fundamentalism that is as strong as that we find on the Religious Right – fundamentalist atheists who not only insist they have no faith in God but who are hellbent on converting others to their un-faith. They are not happy if someone is a believer; they want to move you off the dime as much as the evangelical wants you to answer the altar call.

So what’s a person to do? What words work? Or is it like trying to teach a pig to sing? (It wastes your time and annoys the pig.)

I wrote this hoping I’d answer my own question, but I find no answers…

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There’s a lot of talk about freedom and liberty these days, and whenever I hear the word freedom, my mind instantly goes to Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s Four Freedoms and the beautiful interpretations by Normal Rockwell. In his 1941 state of the union address, FDR proposed people “everywhere in the world” ought to enjoy:

Freedom of speech and expression
Freedom of worship
Freedom from want
Freedom from fear

These freedoms are much of what Unitarian Universalism is about – we speak of them in our principles, which affirm, among other things, the free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience; the use of the democratic process; the goal of world community; and Justice, equity and compassion in human relations.

Noble – strong – affirming. But as I read our principles, and as I think about FDR’s four freedoms, something is missing.

And it’s something we don’t seem to embrace, almost as though we don’t believe it is our right to have it. That something is joy.

We are, as Garrison Keillor puts it, “God’s Frozen people.” Given a choice at death between spending eternity in the joy of heaven or in a discussion about the existence of heaven, UUs will choose the discussion. We are incredibly earnest, hardworking, compassionate people, who forget how funny the church parking lots full of Priuses with “coexist” bumper stickers look to outsiders. We wonder in amazement when during a committee meeting check-in someone actually has good news.

A search of the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Worship Web returns ZERO results for the keyword ‘joy’.

There is a little joy in our hymnal – we get “Joy to the World” at Christmastime and “There Is More Joy Somewhere” – but that’s about it.

We don’t tend to be expressive in our worship.

Some of our African-American ministers have suggested that if we were more joyful, and more expressive about our joy in our worship, we would be a long way toward the multicultural vision we have for our denomination. But many outside of the protestant European-American diaspora find our services – as a rule – stuffy, full of somber reflection, lacking in play and laughter.

We stifle our joy, because we are serious people in serious times.

Why are we not joyful? Why all the embarrassment about being happy? Why do we not feel free for joy?

 

I pick on UUs a little, much like we pick on our sisters and nephews and cousins, out of love and long-standing relationship. I was born into a Unitarian family, and while my spiritual journey took me out of our congregations for many years, my return was much like that of the prodigal son. I was welcomed back in, without question, my chosen congregation, upstate in Saratoga Springs, making me feel like a place had always been saved for me. Like the father in the New Testament parable, our denomination said “let us celebrate and rejoice, for she was lost and now has been found.”

So I pick on us a little, because I know that given a little prod, a little permission, we can embrace our freedom for joy.

 

Now I hear you thinking, “there is so much suffering in the world! How can we possibly be joyful?  We live in such a difficult, tragic world, that it is a denial of our common darkness to jump for joy!” And you might, rightly, quote theologian Fredrick Buechner to me, who said, “Compassion… is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”

If we postpone joy until all the world is fed and clothed and peaceful and free – if we postpone joy until FDR’s four freedoms are a reality – we will spend generations in a dark and joyless world.

And that is so sad, for joy is an upswelling of life, of spirit, a blossoming of freedom. We are here for joy; philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin would add that “Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God.” Joy is what makes life worthwhile. And yes, we can be joyful AND work to make the world just and safe and free; as poet Kahil Gibran said, “He who has not looked on Sorrow will never see Joy.” Joseph Campbell advises us to “Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”

A few years ago, two of the teens from our congregation spent a week working on a project in a poor neighborhood in the city of San Salvador; their project? Paint a mural. Studies have shown that brightly colored murals on long, foreboding walls and abandoned buildings will actually bring crime rates down. Alongside other Americans, the priests who ran the project, and some of the neighborhood’s teens, Alie and Emma painted by day and wondered by night – each evening, the families in this neighborhood would prepare sumptuous meals despite their own poverty; and they would dance and sing with wild abandon in celebration of these visitors from the north. Alie remarked to one of the priests how surprised she was that these people who had no running water, little money, meager and crowded homes, and a constant fear of crime, disease, and death, would be so joyful. The priest replied that when you have literally nothing, you celebrate everything you do have – even if all you have is a soul touched by God. Even in shockingly oppressive conditions, there is one freedom no one can take away; your joy. Or as composer Richard Wagner put it, “Joy is not in things, it is in us.”

 

Now this isn’t to say that we should only look on the bright side in the face of injustice. We don’t have to look far to see that we’re in a real pickle:

Man-made climate change is causing massive disasters, unwieldy temperature fluctuations, species extinctions, and a pile of consequences we can’t imagine.

There is a clear and present danger to women’s health, women’s rights, and women’s dignity, with more and more draconian laws being passed to turn back 100 years of progress.

As a country, we have failed the First Nations miserably, and continue to do so.

Clean energy solutions are being sidelined in favor of outrageous greed and ill-advised big oil interests.

The Borderlands continue to be a crucible for racism, poverty, oppression, and violence.

Veterans are being slighted – they are homeless, suffering with PTSD and often addictions. And they aren’t getting their due.

Religion is being used as a weapon against nearly everyone – and ‘freedom of religion’ is being perverted for deleterious causes.

Sexual orientation and gender identity are being so demonized, our LGBTQ and genderQueer youth are killing themselves.

Income inequality isn’t just a catch-phrase but a horrific reality that is causing starvation, homelessness, disease, and unease.

Anti-union sentiments assault workers of every stripe.

Anti-education sentiments are destroying primary and secondary education – and threaten post-secondary education as well.

Racism thrives.

Are you depressed yet? Are you angry yet? Angry enough to do something? Good. In his book Between Heaven and Mirth, Jesuit priest James Martin writes, “The anger that rises in you over an unjust situation may be a sign that God is moving you to address that injustice. …but where is joy then? It comes from an awareness that God is working through the compassion you feel.”  And remember: you don’t have to do everything – many hands make light work. And those hands are even lighter when they are accompanied by a smile, a laugh, and a little hope.

When you listen to the songs created by Africans who were enslaved in this country, something sticks out:  they are all remarkably hopeful. Again, you would think a people so horribly and appallingly oppressed, would have little to be hopeful about; yet it is hope and joy that is the organic pulse of life, not oppression. It is faith, born in the midst of deep suffering, that allows the oppressed to hope for liberation and a vision of freedom. Joy and hope exist in the spirituals of the 19th century, and the blues of the 20th century; even today, as theologian James Cone remarks, joy and hope exist in the sermons, songs, and stories of the oppressed as they “respond to the vision that stamps dignity upon their personhood.”

Dignity.

So to be joyful is to be dignified!?

Why not? What, in the rule books, says we have to be stoic in order to carry dignity? Well, besides Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations – a rule book for Stoics. In fact, aren’t we more attracted to people who express joy rather than hide it behind the façade of gravitas? I think of Teresa of Avila, who said “let each of us humbly use joy to cheer one another.”

 

Cheering each other with joy is easy, because joy is contagious. When we express joy – through laughter, and dancing, and cheering, and singing, and even smiling – we share a little of that divinity with each other, and maybe help each other.

How many times have you been in a rotten mood and have been wallowing in it? You know the kind – the day started badly from the moment you put your feet on the cold floor made dismayingly damp by the puppy. Then there was no hot water in the shower. You spilled the used, wet coffee grounds on the counter. And once you got to work, you received a text from your daughter, upset because you forgot to sign the permission slip for today’s field trip. You are in a foul mood, and no one better get in your way. You wallow in it. You grumble audibly. You scowl and curse and fume, creating a PigPen-like cloud of disconsolate misery that follows wherever you go.

And then some wiseacre cracks a joke. You force yourself to not smile. “I’m not in the mood” you might say. But instead of leaving, this guy keeps it up, ribbing you playfully, maybe telling you how it could be worse – that you could have had your arms full of burgers and fries and shakes and trip on the door jamb just as you’re entering the room of your friends waiting for their lunches…. Or that you could have watched your bookbag full of final exam essays blow off the top of your car as you pulled away from the street, papers flying all over including squarely in the face of your neighbor – the judge, or how you could have hit a puddle just right so that it created a wave that drenched three nuns standing on the curb. You stifle your laugh and your lighthearted tormentor is not gonna let up and you fight it and fight it … until dammit, you can’t help it… and you guffaw.

And you feel a little better. Maybe the stress of the morning releases a little. Maybe you realize that sometimes we just have lousy mornings, and they help us appreciate the good ones a bit more. We laugh at ourselves and psychologically get out of our own way. Trappist monk Thomas Merton felt that “the main reason we have so little joy is that we take ourselves too seriously.” Reverend David Robb, over at All Souls, says that “those who can laugh at themselves can also look at themselves critically, but not harshly, as key element of emotional growth.”

That’s… joy.

Balm for a troubled soul.

The Persian mystic Hafiz would call it “the glorious sound of a soul waking up.”

Again, the caveat – I’m not saying we have to be joyful all the time. Sadness, anger, fear, anxiety – they’re all natural responses, and even desirable. They show we are emotionally alive. But joy shouldn’t be left out of that mix; nor should our freedom to express it. And maybe Joy – rather than melancholy or bitterness or sadness – maybe Joy should be our default setting.

 

So how do we all embrace our freedom for joy?

First: practice gratitude.

It doesn’t take much: you can start by thinking of one thing you are grateful for right this moment. Now practice that every day – like all new skills, start small – take one moment. Then build it up – maybe be grateful for something when you wake up (I’m grateful I woke up) and when you go to bed (I’m grateful for clean sheets). Add a little gratitude to your meals (I’m grateful for this food) and your commute (I’m grateful there’s a seat on the bus), and before you know it, you’ll be practicing gratitude. And you all know what happens when you are grateful for something – BAM! A little joy comes in.

 

Next: Practice the Principle of Delayed Understanding.

Sometimes we get so busy focusing on what is happening as it is happening, we forget to experience what is happening. We’re constantly analyzing it, looking for angles, and we get serious and thoughtful and then our thoughts take us someplace that might be sad or annoying and we start wondering why this came up and do I really blame my mother and maybe my cat would like me more if I wore catnip-scented perfume and before you know it, you’ve missed the moment.

Philosopher Soren Kierkegaard says that life is lived forward but understood backward; motivational speaker David Roche calls this the principle of delayed understanding. If we would just let go, we’ll experience what’s happening just fine and remember it later. The yogi Ram Dass would tell us to “be here now” – yes, it’s a way to find peace, but it’s also a way to find joy. Figure out what it all means later…be here now.

 

Third – and I’ll close with this idea, which is a riff off Ghandi – be the joy you want to see in the world.

This one is a bit tougher. Many of us work or study in places that are full of strife, conflict, negativity, and at the very least, complaining. The cliché misery loves company is a cliché because it’s true. It’s easier to say “me too” when someone complains than say “gee, not me!” Yet if we remember that We are not our Environment – and that we have an effect on our environment – then we can hold on to those moments of gratitude, the contagion of humor, the perspectives that allow us to share a smile instead of a frown – and maybe bring a little joy in. You are in a joyless place? Be joyful. Not sticky sweet Disney princess joyful – but honestly, gratefully, mirthfully joyful. Translate that to our congregations: be joyful in worship, in committee meetings, working for justice, caring for our community. We are already known as the Church of the Yellow Shirts – let us also be known as the Religion of Joy.

I’ve had plenty of traumas in my life – and I have worked at some soulless places. But one comment I get constantly is “you are always smiling.” In fact, when I told some colleagues I was preaching on joy, they said “there’s no one better – you embody joy.” I think my colleagues were being kind, because a lot of times it’s not easy to be joyful. I do suffer from episodic depression. I do go through spells of deep mourning and melancholy. But because I know – and remember most of the time – that I am made for joy, I can look at the world with hope. Yes, I am an optimist – because the alternative is unbearable. Despite the pain, it’s much more bearable to let joy be my default position.

So let us embrace this freedom, and let joy propel us and buoy us as we work to nurture the world. As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, “I commend enjoyment, for there is nothing better for people under the sun than to eat, drink, and be merry; for this will go with them in their toil through the days of life that God gives them under the sun.”

If freedom is the ability to make choices, let us be free to make a choice for joy.

Note: This was originally written as a sermon, delivered at the UU Congregation of Queens. To read it in its original form, click here.

 

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A survey of stories from recent newspapers, news sites, and news blogs proves what we’ve long thought: the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Evidence includes the following:

Man-made climate change is causing massive disasters, unwieldy temperature fluctuations, species extinctions, and a pile of consequences we can’t imagine. And there are loud and attention-seeking deniers who make the work to address the issues all the more difficult.Voters are being disenfranchised by draconian state governments – with the worst of them targeting miniorities and the elderly.

Veterans are being slighted – they are homeless, suffering with PTSD and often addictions, they aren’t healing form wounds suffered in battle, and they are exhausted. And they aren’t getting their due.

Clean energy solutions are being sidelined in favor of outrageous greed and ill-advised big oil interests.

There are questionable practices over the war on terror that continue in the current administration.

A willful ignorance seems to permeate followers of one of the major political parties, with a clear and present danger to the reality of our all-American, Christian, politically moderate President.

Religion is being used as a weapon against nearly everyone – and ‘freedom of religion’ is being perverted for deleterious causes.

Sexual orientation and gender identity are being so demonized, our LGBTQ and genderqueer youth are killing themselves.

As a country, we have failed the First Nations miserably – and continue to do so.
Racism thrives.

Income inequality isn’t just a catch-phrase but a horrific reality that is causing starvation, homelessness, disease, and unease.

A party who campaigned on “jobs” hasn’t created one – and has kept the President from creating them, too.

Anti-union sentiments assault workers of every stripe.

Anti-education sentiments are destroying primary and secondary education – and threaten post-secondary education as well.

Freedom of speech and information are threatened by perplexing bills poised to destroy the internet.

I am outraged by them all. Every single cause (along with many more I haven’t listed) is worthwhile, needing support, focus, attention. But I have reached the bottom of my personal well of outrage, so I am asking for help.

As readers here know, I am a full-time seminarian and full-time editor. I did a great deal of my boots-on-the-ground activism in the 90s, when I had energy and youth on my side. But as I near 50, I find I don’t have the energy or the time. I can’t attend every march, can’t donate to every cause, can’t write thorough diaries on every abuse of power.

However, I can pick one, and run with it. The one issue that I’ve been carrying a torch for since I was a teen is the cause of women. And it is this torch that I need to focus on.

I remember as a young teen in the late 1970s, going to Girl Scout camp in upstate NY, learning about independence, strength, and equality from young women who were on the front lines of the women’s movement. In addition to the music of Holly Near and Cris Williamson, they taught us the words of Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, and Mary Daly. I emerged as a feminist (who knew how to build a camp fire and a lean-to).

I recognize that as a leading-edge GenXer, I inherited a movement already in progress: I didn’t burn my bras, because by the time I was wearing one, that had been done. I didn’t have to get the ERA on the docket, but I did implore state legislatures to ratify it. I didn’t have to fight for a woman’s right to choose, but I have continued the fight to ensure it remains legal. I have fought sexism in classrooms and in the workplace. I have fought for equal pay on a global and intimate scale.

I went for my bachelor’s degree in my early 30s and attended a southern women’s college, where I saw the next generation (closing-edge GenXers) reject the label “feminist;” I cannot count the number of times I heard “I’m not a feminist, but…” as they continued to speak a strong feminist platform. And I got to educate these women, who took the progress we’d made for granted, and show them all the places we still had work to do.

And now, here I am in my late 40s, and some things are better, but some things are horrifically worse.

I am outraged – and this is where my outrage must flourish. I am many things, but I am first a woman (technically a cisgendered woman, as I identify as strong female on the gender continuum). And the assault on me and my sisters has been so blatant lately, it is a wonder I can say we have made any progress at all.

Abortion rights are eroding on the state level, and many in Washington would see it be dismantled on the federal level. State-supported rape seems to be an optimal solution to the abortion problem – at least for men who cannot imagine the degradation and pain of transvaginal ultrasounds.Women’s reproductive rights are hanging in the balance, as the birth control fight surprisingly continues.

Health care is being denied to thousands of poor and marginalized women under the guise of “not supporting abortion.”

Daily, women are raped. And at least one presidential candidate suggests that a woman who conceives from this horrific act should bear the child anyway.

Daily, women are physically and emotionally abused. Yet the House GOP will not renew the Violence Against Women Act because it protects women they don’t care about.

Women are slandered on television and radio – and the typical male response is “it’s a joke.”

Women are vilified on television and radio – including movies, sitcoms, advertisements, and stand-up acts. All in the name of “comedy.”

Women are still being paid less than men, despite the Lilly Ledbetter Act.

There is so little regard for the women’s vote in the GOP, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone proposed repeal of the 19th amendment.

Women are being murdered for being women, are being mutilated, are being enslaved. Not just in other countries, but here in the United States.

Women are silenced.

Women are marginalized.

A few years ago, I thought I was at the end of my activism days – been there, done that, now it’s time for me to become a minister in order to help people of faith maintain that faith in the fight for justice. I heard my calling as a continuum of a life’s work – from learning to action to supporting.

But no more.

Oh, I’m still going to seminary and pursuing ordination. But I’m also standing up and taking active steps to fight against the invading hordes of 21st century medievalists who wish to silence my gender. I’ve rejoined NOW and Planned Parenthood. I’m attending various actions in my community. I’m writing letters and talking to people. I’m even helping in the fight against gender inequality in my seminary – a place that is light-years ahead of many theological schools but still suffering from the history of religion’s abuse against women. I’m seeking ways to ensure the very advances my generation took for granted don’t become part of a ‘used to be’ wish list for the next ones.

So please, I ask you, you who are outraged by the things I listed at the top of the page but may not have the energy to take up the cause of women, it’s okay. And please understand if I can’t engage in your outrage, as I’m too busy engaging in my own. Between us, we will share the burden and together, on many fronts, we WILL turn the tide.

 

Cross posted at Daily Kos.

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I grew up in a musical family – meaning, we loved musicals. We performed in them, we watched them, we sang them, we bought the cast albums. I grew up in the country, the youngest by 13 years, only a couple of other children living nearby, with a performer’s spirit. And… a large 6-foot by 6-foot mirror prominently displayed in the living room, next to the cabinet where the stereo lived. Many afternoons were spent in front of that mirror, acting out the musicals I played over and over. While I had intimate knowledge of musicals like My Fair Lady, Carousel, Camelot, and Hello Dolly, it was the modern rock musicals that attracted my attention. Let me correct that: it was the modern religious musicals that attracted my attention.

Simply put, I was hooked on Jesus Christ Superstar, Godspell, and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

While Joseph holds a special place in my heart (both from my youth and the performance we gave at UUCSS in 2005), it is the first two that are driving this post today. It is those first two that I realize have shaped, more than anything else, my understanding of who Jesus was and is.

I don’t know if this is a fact or something I made up, but I think it may be true that no matter what we learn as adults, our initial impressions and ideas about religion are formed before puberty. We may reject those ideas, but they are our starting point. Now if that’s true – and I will make the case that at least for me, it is – then I learned about an incredible man with incredible things to say about how we live.

From Godspell, I learned parables – the sheep and the goats, the prodigal son, and the good Samaritan. I learned how he treated the least among them (the adulterous woman). The Jesus in this show is warm, funny, loving, insightful. He dislikes hypocrisy and greed. He feels deeply. He teaches with patience, humor, and honor. He remembers his people and their past – during the last supper scene, they sing Psalm 137, a lament from the days of the Babylonian exile.

From Jesus Christ Superstar, I learned about his final days – the burdens of celebrity, the difficulty in teaching and reminding his fellow Jews the lessons of the prophets (Amos, Hosea). I learned of his patience, and of the political situation he was teaching in. The Jesus is also warm, but detatches in very human, somewhat Zen ways, when he needs distance. He is forthright and stallwart in the face of those who would be his enemies, but he is not combative (the moneychangers scene excepted).

Both representations of Jesus end with the crucifixion. We hear the pain of those final moments – sung heartwrenchingly in Godspell, desperately spoken in Superstar. And this is where it ends. We are left to accept or reject the resurrection, to make up our minds whether we buy it.

As a child, despite the lessons from the Methodist Sunday school my parents sent me to to learn about religion, I did not buy the resurrection. It wasn’t part of the story I knew, but it also didn’t make sense to me. I know it didn’t make sense to my Unitarian parents.

As an adult, I spent many years not even thinking about Jesus, no less considering the resurrection or the divinity of Christ. It’s only been in the last couple that Jesus has been in my sights again – and I admit to truly struggling with what I believe, what I think is true, and how to parse my childhood understanding of Jesus with my adult spirituality. And I don’t know. Believing in the resurrection seems a long stretch, one that contradicts other things I hold to be true about Jesus, his life, his divinity. I am deeply Unitarian in that sense… so parsing an understanding of Jesus and the resurrection in that paradigm becomes a bit of a struggle. It is even more so as I am now attending a Christian seminary, where in order to understand some of the theologians we read, we must understand that they take the resurrection event as a given circumstance, not a point for debate. And so I struggle – and I just don’t know.

What I do know is that the portrayals of Jesus being pushed by some of the more conservative and fundamentalist preachers is not the Jesus I know… theirs is certainly is not the Jesus whose most important sermon was the Sermon on the Mount. The Jesus I know is the Jesus who washed John the Baptist’s feet, who hugged the leper, who spoke with the Canaanite woman, who loved and laughed and cried.

I don’t know if I’ll ever know for sure what I think. But I do know that Stephen Schwartz and Andrew Lloyd Webber & Tim Rice were wonderful teachers and gave me a picture of Jesus that feels true for me.

 

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A few years ago, I began this list – and would update it every time people I know and love would say “I never saw [insert name of iconic film here].” Off I’d run to add another title to the list.

This list isn’t necessarily the BEST films ever made – rather, it’s a combination of great films, iconic films, and those which have had a significant impact on pop culture. Many of them echo (or create) modern mythologies (Star Wars), others explore human nature (Caine Mutiny), our relationship to the divine (Chariots of Fire), or historic events that shape us (The Right Stuff). And some are just iconic for their place within pop culture (Blazing Saddles). Just as we use the languages of music, literature, and art – so too does the language of film help us communicate sometimes complex ideas in ways that help others understand.

And so it is finally here: my list of 101 films I think everyone should see. It’s shockingly short, based on how many more movies are out there that are fantastic. There are some films definitely missing: several great films of the last 10 years missed the list, as their impact on pop culture is unclear (although a list in ten years should probably include Napoleon Dynamite and Inception). Gone with the Wind didn’t make the cut – as influential as it has been, I don’t wish to further the harmful racism of the film (although Carol Burnett’s parody is still one of the funniest sketches of all time.) The Wizard of Oz is another that didn’t make it – if you haven’t seen that, well, you never turned on a television. (It’s iconic, I agree – it’s just so obvious.) There aren’t as many action or horror films on here as some would like – that’s a product of my tastes. (I probably should have included Rocky and The Terminator… forgive me?) I also forgot Double Indemnity, the classic film noir to end all film noir. I didn’t include Psycho, as iconic as it is. I am also woefully lacking in films from African American and Latin@ directors (films like Do the Right Thing and Maria Full of Grace should be here) – a blindspot I’m now working to correct. But there’s only so much room. And yes, this is my way of sneaking in a few more films…because it was indeed hard to keep the list to 101.

So… have a gander. What do you agree with? What should I have cut? What did I miss? (I promise I will kick myself for the obvious omissions.)

Oh, and check out the films you haven’t seen. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Cheers, and happy watching!

  1. 12 Angry Men
    Stunning script that’s as appropriate today as it was then; great performances by all, including Henry Ford.
  2. 1776
    A beautiful musical with book and lyrics inspired by real letters/documents. Plus, Blythe Danner sings.
  3. 2001: A Space Odyssey
    Classic in so many ways – great scifi imagery for its time, plus graceful and stunning cinematography.
  4. 84 Charing Cross Road
    A gentle, charming literary film starring Anne Bancroft as a writer and reader who develops a camaraderie with Anthony Hopkins and the London bookstore he runs.
  5. A Room with a View
    In the 80s and 90s, Merchant and Ivory made a series of simply stunning English films, many based on classic English novels. This one features a young Helena Bonham Carter, back before she became Tim Burtonized. Plus, it is sweet, graceful, and features the sweeping cinematography Merchant and Ivory were known for.
  6. Adam’s Rib
    Perhaps Hepburn and Tracy’s best, also features Judy Holiday in an award-winning role.
  7. The African Queen
    Hepburn and Bogart, giant insects, and the Nile River. What more could you want?
  8. Airplane!
    The first in a new genre of comedies – so many imitators, but nothing compares to the original. Its impact on pop culture cannot be measured.
  9. All the President’s Men
    A well-acted, quite accurate version of the book, not just a window into the Watergate scandal but also the future of investigative reporting.
  10. Almost Famous
    All around, a beautifully made film – captures the early 70s with grace. Plus, I fell in love with “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John all over again.
  11. Amadeus
    One of the best adaptations of a play I’ve seen… plus great music, plus a stunning performance by F. Murray Abraham.
  12. American Beauty
    Wow. Just…wow.  Award-winning, unique.
  13. The American President
    One of Aaron Sorkin’s best – includes perhaps the most wonderful speech on what it means to be an American.
  14. Apocalypse Now
    It’s a classic – perhaps the rawest of the Vietnam flicks. And Martin Sheen is stunning.
  15. Apollo 13
    Another slice of American history, but beautifully told and amazingly acted. And it’s got Kevin Bacon, connecting him to a whole new crowd.
  16. Barefoot in the Park
    My favorite Neil Simon play, with simply charming performances by Redford and Fonda.
  17. The Bells of St. Mary
    It’s a holiday classic – I think this is Bing Crosby’s best work.
  18. Best in Show
    All of Christopher Guest’s mockumentaries are funny, but this one is his best – and it’s got dogs and Jane Lynch.
  19. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls
    Russ Meyer flick – such an outrageous, kitsch piece. Not as well known, but maybe freakier than anything else he did. See it just for the WTF factor (and because Roger Ebert actually wrote it).
  20. Blazing Saddles
    Classic Mel Brooks. Again, the pop culture impact is huge.
  21. Born Yesterday
    Judy Holliday in the original version absolutely amazing, and it’s a funny film. Melanie Griffith’s remake is pale in comparison.
  22. Bullets Over Broadway
    From the Year of Chazz Palmenteri, one of Woody Allen’s best, and most cohesive films. Great performances by Dianne Wiest and John Cusack.
  23. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
    This is one of those films that is referred to in so many others – plus, both Newman and Redford are gorgeous in it.
  24. Caine Mutiny
    A truly striking film about the south Pacific theater (WWII). A unique role for Bogart.
  25. Casablanca
    The iconic film of all iconic films. I almost didn’t even put this on the list, as it’s such a no-brainer. But really, you must see this.
  26. Chariots of Fire
    I saw this again recently, and it stands the test of time. Strong characters, lush cinematography, brilliant storyline.
  27. Chicago
    Forget that it’s Renee Zellweger and revel in one of the best screen adaptations of a musical in decades. Plus, Richard Gere dances!
  28. Citizen Kane
    Yes, it is THE classic film. I don’t think it’s Welles’ best, but everyone should still see it – it’s amazing.
  29. Clerks
    Kevin Smith’s first – it feels a bit stilted after watching his growth as a director, but he captured something special here, and it’s damn funny. (I do think Dogma is better, but this one has more cultural impact.)
  30. Clue
    Not an award winner, but it’s got a terrific cast, quotable lines, and well, it’s just full of win. (Tim Curry, Michael McKean, Elieen Brennan, Madeline Kahn, Martin Mull, Leslie Ann Warren, Christopher Lloyd – that kind of win.)
  31. The Color Purple
    Panned by many, this is nonetheless a beautiful film with an incredible performance by Whoopi Goldberg.
  32. Desk Set
    Another Hepburn and Tracy film – this one’s much more ‘romantic comedy’ than not. Features an early computer – funny stuff.
  33. Destry Rides Again
    Subsequent westerns – and Madeline Kahn’s role in Blazing Saddles – will make SO much more sense after seeing this.
  34. Doctor Zhivago
    Sweeping, romantic, epic. Watch on a blustery winter day with a warm comforter, hot chocolate, and a box of tissues.
  35. Enchanted April
    One of the loveliest films I have ever seen. Great to watch on a rainy afternoon cuddled up with a cup of tea and a cat.
  36. Fast Times at Ridgemont High
    This was my generation’s seminal teen movie – a young Sean Penn is hysterical. Sets the stage for the future of teen movies.
  37. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
    Another seminal teen movie – Fast Times and Ferris Bueller framed my teen years and explain a lot about GenX.
  38. Fifth Element
    If someone can explain what it is about this movie that is so captivating, please do. All I know is that every time it’s on, I watch – and there are so many pop culture references that spring from this bizarre little futuristic action movie.
  39. Fight Club
    Another WOW. Not for the faint of heart, but stunning.
  40. The Front Page
    Fast talking, fast humor, funny as hell – Cary Grant is perfect in this.
  41. Galaxy Quest
    The perfect spoof of Star Trek, with a great cast including Tony Shaloob, Sam Rockwell, and Alan Rickman.
  42. Glory
    A beautifully-filmed slice of the American Civil War. Perhaps Broderick’s best role, plus amazing performances by Denzel Washington, Cary Elwes, and Morgan Freeman.
  43. The Godfather Parts 1 and 2
    These two set the stage for all gangster films that came after. Pacino is amazing, Brando is Brando. (Don’t see Prt 3 – it sucks.) (Side note: there’s a lovely little film called The Freshman, where Brando plays a Godfather-like role. Charming, funny. Worth catching.)
  44. Gosford Park
    I think this is Robert Altman’s best film since Nashville – beautifully shot, plus an amazing cast, including Maggie Smith, Michael Gambon, Helen Mirren and my man Clive Owen.
  45. Greenfingers:
    A charming Channel Four film with Mirren and Owen – often overlooked, but very well done.
  46. Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner
    Why look, it’s Hepburn and Tracy again – this time with Sidney Poitier, in a great piece about racial issues in the US, handled with grace and humor.
  47. Guys and Dolls
    The best musical adaptation – perhaps the best musical ever written. And oddly enough, Brando sings (and gets away with it). Sinatra is in fine voice too.
  48. Hamlet (Kenneth Brannagh’s version)
    Some says Olivier’s Hamlet is the best (none say Gibson’s is), but I think that this production is superior. (Ethan Hawke’s is good too, but not as amazing as this.)
  49. Heathers
    Some may argue that Mean Girls or Clueless is a better choice for the high school chick movie – and they’d be right. All three are brilliant; I chose Heathers because I think it’s Winona Rider’s best performance, and the revenge aspect is delightful. (Mean Girls is a Dangerous Liaisons remake, and Clueless is an Emma remake…which makes both of them pretty spectacular too. WHY do you make me choose, oh list of mine?)
  50. High Fidelity
    I generally don’t like American adaptations of British books (or worse, American remakes of British films), but this one absolutely captures the Hornby novel, Jack Black is funny as hell, and well, this is where I officially fell in love again with John Cusack (first, of course, being Say Anything, but that was more a schoolgirl crush.)
  51. Holiday Inn
    A delightful holiday romp – and where the song White Christmas originally came from. (The subsequent film White Christmas is worth seeing too.)
  52. Hunt for Red October
    From The Year of Scott Glenn, this film features great performances by Alec Baldwin, Sam O’Neill, and Sean Connery at his handsomest. Baldwin’s portrayal of Jack Ryan was Tom Clancy’s favorite, btw.
  53. Inherit the Wind
    Another amazing slice of American history – the Scopes trial (over Darwinism). The film adaptation of the play is simply amazing.
  54. It Happened One Night
    This early romantic comedy features Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. It’s funny and well done.
  55. Jane Eyre
    A classic novel often gets made into multiple films, each generation casting its own perspective. For me, I’ll stick with the Orson Welles version, where I first learned just how scary Mrs. Danvers can be.
  56. Johnny Dangerously
    Great lines, references, parody of gangster films. Plus, Marilu Henner sings.
  57. L.A. Confidential
    For a modern film noir, this one hits all the right notes. Some breakthrough performances, too.
  58. Lawrence of Arabia
    This classic is best enjoyed over a long afternoon snuggled on the couch with comfort foods. It is amazing – and a great reminder of why Peter O’Toole is one of the best actors of all time.
  59. Monty Python’s Life of Brian
    The best of the Python films – remarkably honoring of Christianity and snarky about those who would corrupt Christianity’s ideas.
  60. The Lion in Winter
    It’s Hepburn and Burton. Need I say more?
  61. Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels
    Guy Ritchie’s film Snatch is better known (probably because of Brad Pitt), but this is his better film. Hint: watch with captions on.
  62. Looking for Richard
    Not much in the way of documentaries on this list, but this one is worth it. It’s Pacino, rehearsing for Richard III, and experiencing not just the rehearsals but the idea of Shakespeare in modern Manhattan. It’s so beautifully done – worth the watch.
  63. Lord of the Rings Trilogy
    Sweep, beauty, great performances, inspiring, as faithful to the Tolkein books as film can be… and Viggo Mortensen.
  64. Man For All Seasons
    A sweeping period piece – the way they should be done.
  65. Monsters, Inc.
    This continues to be my favorite Pixar film – not just for the story line (which is sharp), but for the advances they had made in terms of texture and movement. Plus, John Goodman, Billy Crystal, and Steve Buschemi.
  66. The Muppet Movie
    Brilliant music, great storyline, and it sets up the Muppet Universe. Plus, Kermit sings the iconic “Rainbow Connection.”
  67. Murder by Death
    Parody, thy name is Neil Simon. Simply hysterical. Alec Guinness was never funnier.
  68. Network
    “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” Fantastic Robert Altman film, great performances.
  69. O Brother, Where Art Thou
    When you are the Coen Brothers, your source material is Homer, and you feature bluegrass music, you have the ingredients for a hit. Clooney is amazing in this.
  70. The Odd Couple
    Matthau and Lemmon at their comedic best (thanks to a fabulous script by Neil Simon).
  71. Peter’s Friends
    A touching British film with some of our generation’s biggest British stars – Hugh Laurie, Emma Thompson, Stephen Fry, Kenneth Brannagh. Plus, a remarkable take on living with AIDS, back when it was a death sentence.
  72. Philadelphia Story
    Cary Grant, James Stewart, and Katharine Hepburn sparkle in this amazing comedy.
  73. The Princess Bride
    Another great film which has had a great impact on pop culture. Infinitely quotable and as charming as it is funny.
  74. The Quiet Man
    I would argue this is John Wayne’s best film. It was my mother’s favorite, too, which means even if I didn’t like it, it would have to be on this list. (Hint: my mom had excellent taste in film.)
  75. Radio Days
    This is a quiet little Woody Allen film that few know about but many should – it features great music from World War II, plus some hysterical storylines. It is just a delight.
  76. Raiders of the Lost Ark
    I was hard pressed to choose between this and Last Crusade, but really, Raiders set the stage for this kind of adventure movie, and is probably the better of the two (despite the late River Phoenix as Young Indy and Sean Connery as his dad). Again, iconic, influential.
  77. Raising Arizona
    Perhaps Nick Cage’s best performance – but definitely an iconic film. (it’s hard to go wrong with a Coen Brothers movie – I am also a huge fan of The Big Lebowski and The Hudsucker Proxy, also worth watching.)
  78. Rear Window
    It may not be Hitchcock’s best, but it is iconic, and the concept is brilliant – everything is seen from James Stewart’s vantage point at the rear window of his apartment.
  79. Rebecca
    I know, I know, another Hitchcock film. What can I say? His work has had incredible influence on pop culture and the way we see film. But this one has an added bonus: it’s based on the classic novel by Daphne Du Maurier, and begins with an iconic line: “Last night, I dreamed I was at Manderley again…”
  80. The Right Stuff
    It’s long and sometimes moves a bit slowly, but it lovingly tells the story of the dawn of the space program – plus, it is a veritable who’s who of late 20th century actors. Worth the watch.
  81. Saved
    There are many awesome things about this film – the message, the acting, the music. It continues to be one of my favorite high school films. Plus, Mary Louise Parker. (I’m a fan.)
  82. The Shawshank Redemption
    Stephen King’s short stories have made for some of the most incredible films (see: Stand By Me); this one is my favorite. Morgan Freedman and Tim Robbins are simply amazing.
  83. The Shining
    One of the most iconic moments in motion picture history: Jack Nicholson peeking his head through the broken-down door – “I’m baa-aack!” It is one of the scariest movies I have ever seen…iconic, brilliant.
  84. Singin’ in the Rain
    Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, and Debbie Reynolds dance and sing. And if that’s not enough, it features another of the most iconic images in all of motion picture history – Kelly with the umbrella, hanging off the lamp post, singing “Singin’ in the Rain”… a scene that doesn’t disappoint.
  85. Sleeping Beauty:
    This remains my favorite of the Disney princess movies. You can have your modern day Ariels, Belles, and Jasmines. I’ll take Aurora every day and twice on Sundays.
  86. Star Wars, Episodes 4-5-6
    Groundbreaking modern sci-fi. These movies have become our modern mythos (even if Lucas keeps tinkering with them…sigh). Affected our syntax, Yoda did.
  87. Steel Magnolias
    Enter it remembering it’s a stage play (thus some of the lines seem… fake) – but then relax into the beautifully drawn characters, brilliant performances, and pitch perfect emotional journey.
  88. The Sting
    There is nothing about this movie I don’t love – the story is amazing, the acting is terrific, the music is pitched perfectly. Plus, Redford and Newman together again.
  89. Strangers on a Train
    This Hitchcock film has had a great deal of influence on other movies – it’s a unique set up and is strikingly played out.
  90. Taxi Driver
    It’s not one of my favorites, but it is iconic in many ways – “you lookin’ at me?” A young DeNiro shows just how good an actor he is here.
  91. The Third Man
    Positively stunning work; I think it’s Welles’ best. It’s the first time musical score was a character. Ending devices are common now but groundbreaking in this film.
  92. This Is Spinal Tap
    The mockumentary that set the bar for all other mockumentaries. Great music, hysterical storyline, plus we learned that some amps DO go to 11.
  93. To Kill a Mockingbird
    A classic film version of this classic novel – definitely a film of its time, raising many questions about the different shades of racism (side note: Malcolm Gladwell wrote an amazing essay about this book for The New Yorker in 2009 – worth the read).
  94. To Sir With Love
    Sidney Poitier. (Oh, was I supposed to give more reasons? It’s well done and has some key cultural references.)
  95. Tootsie
    While it is a little dated, it has amazing performances by Dustin Hoffman and Jessica Lange – and is iconic.
  96. The Trouble with Harry
    The funny Hitchcock film – I love it. It was also Shirley MacLaine’s film debut.
  97. The Usual Suspects
    From the Year of Chazz Palmenteri – so many iconic moments that have permeated popular culture. Plus, it’s quite well done. I think this is one of Kevin Spacey’s best performances.
  98. West Side Story
    It’s a musical, but it’s pretty dark – remember, it’s based on the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. But it is spectacular. And yes, it is iconic in pop culture.
  99. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
    The Johnny Depp version may be more faithful to the book, but the Gene Wilder version has had incredible impact on pop culture.
  100. Witness for the Prosecution
    Agatha Christie. Alfred Hitchcock. Plus, this film rather sets a standard for this kind of dark courtroom drama.
  101. Young Frankenstein
    Complete classic, and a great homage to the old horror flicks. Plus, the most quotable lines in modern cinema.

 

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One thing I can say about Union Theological Seminary is that it’s never boring. There are always speakers, special chapel services, rallies, and events, amplified these days by Occupy Wall Street and the Protest Chaplains group that sprung out of our student body. There are always tests and papers and books to read. People are eager, active, engaged. And you even catch occasional glimpses of people who are famous, whether they’re here filming a TV show (like Law & Order or Pan-Am), scouting locations for information (like Daniel Radcliffe did) or here to speak/attend a special event (such as Cornel West, whom I spotted speaking to the president of the seminary on Wednesday).

But every now and then, you witness something and know you really saw something special.

Tuesday morning at 10am, Dr. James Cone walked into the classroom with a huge pile of books, which he carefully arranged on the table behind him. He began his lecture on black liberation theology. Now for the uninitiated among my readers, Cone is considered the father of black liberation theology, which sees Jesus not just as redeemer but as liberator and comfort to the oppressed and suffering. It is a theology that is inextricably woven with socio-economic and political movements, as well as the lived culture – both sacred and secular.

Dr. Cone began telling his story – where he came from (Arkansas), how he found himself studying white European and American theologians and becoming disgruntled with their utter lack of contact with his daily life as a black man in the days of Jim Crow. He spoke of watching Malcolm and Martin speak their diametrically opposed yet somehow complimentary messages. He shared the pain of seeing his black brothers and sisters beaten and killed on the lynching tree, at riots. He told us how the 1967 riots woke him up and led him to begin writing a new theology:

It was the response of white churches and white theologians – they called black power activists all kinds of names. I decided then that like the prophets, I have to show some sign that I was not the same person. That event changed me. My first outburst was an article in  Is Anybody Listening to Black America? called “Christianity and Black Power” – I was the ONLY black systematic theologian. I was determined to say SOMETHING about what the gospel is because all I had learned had NOTHING to do with it. *

We learned of his progression from his first book, Black Theology and Black Power (1969), through his responses to his critics, through working with other black theologians (notably Gayraud Wilmore) to define what the theology really is and how it expressed. He showed us, book by book, what he wrote, why he wrote it, and who also contributed to this field of black liberation theology.

He ended tenderly, with a discussion of his most recent book, The Cross and the Lynching Tree:

This book is “my last word” – this is my heart. It brings together everything: who I am, what this journey has been.  This is my favorite book. It doesn’t speak as much to a specific moment but rather is a culmination. It took some time to tell ’em what I think and what the Christian faith truly means (it took me 10 years to write).*

He said he could die happy, knowing he had finished this book.

And we all got it. We all understood that we had just heard the whole story – witnessed this man’s telling of the entire arc of his life’s work. While decades’ worth of students have heard this man teach and preach, watching him work through this amazing theology, we were the first class to see the entire story described, first hand, by the man himself.

James Cone has a passion for what he does – and a passion for his faith – that is awe-inspiring. To witness his telling of his story, to know we are learning from a man who has reshaped theological thought for the next generations, well… it was really something.

I feel blessed and honored.

 

* I transcribed his words during class – typing as fast as I could to capture every word. Any errors or misquoting are my own.

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Every Monday thru Thursday at noon, Union Theological Seminary holds a chapel service – they vary wildly, with many different speakers, themes, styles, music. Thursdays always incorporate communion, however, although the flavor and presentation changes each week.

The first communion chapel I attended two weeks ago was uncomfortable for me. As I have talked about a bit here and with others, I’ve been thinking more deeply the role Jesus might play in my life and in my theology. I have grown to appreciate the model, lessons, and hope that Jesus offers… but am still quite far from calling myself a Christian, as there are some seemingly important tenets of the faith that I cannot reconcile (and which I won’t go into at this time). Suffice it to say, however, I have grown to deeply respect a true Christian faith as modeled by Carl, and many of the friends I have made on Twitter and at Union. Thus, I feel strongly about my participation in some of the sacraments – or, I should say, refusal to particpate – particularly when it comes to Communion. In my mind, it is a sacrament shared by people who believe in Jesus Christ as savior and son of God; it is precious, meaningful, an important and sacred act of the faithful. Because I do not believe those things, I don’t believe I should take part – I haven’t taken part in a Christian Communion in almost 30 years – and I respect the sacrament too much to denigrate it by my half-hearted, unbelieving participation.

So the communion chapel two weeks ago was uncomfortable, because it was clearly a sacrament for Christian believers. I understood the message – and it was not for me. It’s hard to separate being excluded from excluding myself, but it was clear that this was not a ritual for me. I decided that I would probably skip most Thursday chapels as a result.

Fast forward two weeks to this past Thursday. I went to chapel despite there being communion, because one of my professors, David Carr, was giving the message. I figured that when we got to that part of the service I’d slip out, so I sat near an aisle. Professor Carr’s message was centered around the story in Matthew about the vineyard owner who pays everyone the same wage, whether they worked 11 hours or just 1. His message was about abundance, particularly in response to the latest charges against President Obama about ‘class warfare’ when he suggests that the wealthy pay their fair share. Carr spoke of Jesus’s message in that parable, that a society is healthy when all have food, and clothing, and shelter, and even an hour’s worth of meaningful work.

A good message… a healing one… but it was in the prayer that followed that God spoke to me (I am sorry to say I don’t know who wrote it):

God of abounding, lavishing, unfair grace,

At times, your generosity challenges us, overwhelms us, and even offends us. We ask that in this moment, you would push us to love one another more deeply.  We also ask that you grant us grace for ourselves in those times that we fail to love one another well.  As we approach your table, where all are welcomed and none go hungry, we are reminded that there are still many situations – in our own community and in the world – in which your abundance does not seem so apparent.  We now pause to offer up prayers for people and places where more of your bountiful unfairness is needed.

God of abundance, teach us how to live with open hands and open hearts, that we may tear down the barriers that divide us and contribute to the healing of the world.  As we come to your table, we ask that you continue to challenge us with your unrestrained love and meet us in all of our needs.  In your name we pray. 

 Amen.

By the time the prayer ended, I was sobbing. After the prayer, we sang Daniel Schutte’s “Table of Plenty”:

Come to the feast of heaven and earth!
Come to the table of plenty!
God will provide for all that we need,
here is the table of plenty.

O come and sit at my table
where saints and sinners are friends
I wait to welcome the lost and lonely
to share the cup of my love.

Another of my professors, Paul Knitter, presided over the Communion, and while he used many of the familiar words of the sacrament, he repeated the sentiment that this was an invitation to share of God’s abundance, to sit at God’s table. All are worthy – whether they believe or not, whether they work all day or just an hour. All comers… all hearts welcome.

God opened up the table to me, who feels unworthy and unwelcome, excluded and apart from. Me. God invited me to sit at the table.

And I could not refuse.

Still sobbing, I made my way to receive the morsel of homemade bread dipped in wine and the blessing Professor Knitter offered.  I sobbed through the final song, “The Peace of the Earth Be with You”… I sobbed in the bathroom after the service ended.

It has taken me until today to begin understanding what happened – and I’m still not quite sure, but I DO know that for all my feeling “outside’ – especially in a most decidedly Christian seminary, and with a most decidedly Christian boyfriend – God said “you’re welcome too.” God doesn’t seem to care that I have doubts. God doesn’t seem to care that I’m still quite angry. God doesn’t seem to care that I feel unworthy. God has a place for me at the table. How can I refuse?

 

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The following remarks were delivered at the Time of Remembrance and Renewal at the Round Lake Auditorium on the evening of September 11, 2011.

 

We gather here today, in our community, among friends and neighbors, to mark perhaps the most momentous event in our collective memory.

We gather to remember those who lost their lives, to remember those who gave their lives, to remember all who served, and to remember our own innocence lost.

But we also gather to wrap the grief and anxiety of the last ten years with love and hope.

It seems surprising in some ways, as we have grown so inured to tragedy. We have all experienced personal losses. We hear the news of lives lost in distant wars and nearby shootings. We see tragedy everywhere – especially these days as flood waters devastate our region and tear apart families. Yet we don’t often gather ten years later to remember.

So why do we gather for this one? And why is this one so hard?

I believe it is because the events of September 11, 2001, was not just a random incident or an act of nature. It was personal: a planned and targeted attack on us.

Many of us were personally touched – we lost loved ones or knew someone who did. We knew people who rushed in to help when millions were rushing out. Others know people who had gotten a late start, had a dentist’s appointment, ran into train delays, anything – anything – ANYTHING that kept them from being at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon that Tuesday morning.

In that first year, we did many things right to manage our grief. We held vigils, memorials, such as the one held in 2002 in this space; we offered our financial support, we went to help. We worked through those first trying, heartbreaking years.

But still we sit, ten years later, still knots in our stomachs and lumps in our throats when we think of the Twin Towers, and the Pentagon, and the men and women who brought down the fourth plane in Pennsylvania.

We need more room to heal our wounds, to tend our grief, to mourn our loss.

 

And so we gather today to wrap our arms around each other, to share memories, to consider the scary and frightening world in which we live.

Our world is scary – I don’t have to tell you all the things that frighten us now – and the many ways our fear manifests. We remember these quite easily – even more so if you travel by airplane or take a day trip across the border into Montreal…

But we are not here just to remember our fear – we are here to transform it.

It is ten years later, and we still feel raw. So how do we get to a place of renewal? That’s what I hope we can discover together today.

 

We who are gathered here come from many faiths, or none at all – we draw comfort from our sacred texts, our beliefs, and that moral conscience inside us that knows right from wrong, good from evil.

And our faiths vary – we are Christians and Jews, Muslims and Buddhists, theists and deists and agnostics and atheists. Those lines alone can divide us – it is easy to see the differences between beliefs and let those differences take charge. And there are lines of nationality… and race…and identity – easy ways to divide us into a comforting ‘sameness.’

In fact, it is in our ancient tribal nature to be drawn to sameness – to see the world in terms of us versus them. Us versus them was very important when we feared total destruction of our little nomadic villages. Us versus them provided protection against predators and conquering hoardes. Us versus them is comfortable. Instinctual.

But we don’t live in the ancient world anymore. We live in a global society – the world is bigger than ever. We can chat online with friends in Manitoba, Madrid, Mumbai, Melbourne… our media, communications, products, ideas, and friendships are expansive and global.

And as large as the world is, is as small as it has become. Events that happen on the other side of the world shake us – whether they be tsunamis in Indonesia, genocide in the Sudan, earthquakes in Haiti and Japan, famine in Somalia, shootings in Norway, or riots in London.

Our women and men in uniform serve around the world in wars with people we hardly know but are intimately connected with – because this world, as large as it is, has grown small.

And when the world is this small, we have to let go of some of our tribal mentality… or at the very least, open up the tribe to include everyone.

The choir sang a few minutes ago words inspired by Deuteronomy 6, verses 4-9:

we should love one another with all our hearts…
and we should care for each other,
with all our souls and our might.

Mother Teresa reminds us that we belong to one another… we are one family, one tribe.

It’s hard to remember, of course, when part of our tribe hates us with every fiber of its being… it is all too easy to remain angry and hurt. It’s easy to keep our wounds open and feel their rawness. We feel powerless to combat the evil that is seemingly more tangible than ever, making it easy to circle the wagons and hide in our pain.

But we should love one another with all our hearts.

And whether you believe in God, or gods, or no god at all, that golden rule – to do unto others as we would have them do unto us, reminds us that the acting in love – compassion – is how we heal. Meister Eckhart suggests that we may call God love; we may call God goodness, but the best name for God is compassion.

 

And out of compassion comes renewal.

Compassion comes when we listen to one another’s stories. When we listen to one another, not as enemies or people who are different, but as people, we hear their stories and we understand that they too hurt…and cry…and celebrate…and love.

Compassion comes when we think outside ourselves. Part of our celebration here today is a thank you to the men and women who serve on the emergency teams – fire fighters, EMTs, police. These are people who show compassion in spades – they think outside themselves and say “how can I help my neighbor”?

Compassion comes when we allow the weight of our pain to open our hearts a little bit more. Instead of our struggling to hold it closed or cry out in agony, we let our hearts be heavy… and full… and we act and speak out of that pain… we heal through our woundings.

It is through compassion that we find renewal. It is through compassion that we see love, and joy, and peace. It is through compassion that we touch the divine in ourselves and each other, what the Buddhists name when they say “namaste.”

 

So we go forth together today, holding each other, remembering, and loving one another with all our hearts. And while we may not always know or feel or see peace… we can always pray for peace.

 

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Union has welcomed us, the 175th class to enter this seminary, with the theme of Stepping Stones. It is certainly fitting, as we’re all on a journey… wading into sometimes unfamiliar waters, not quite sure where we’re going to put our feet next. The Dean of Academic Affairs, Daisy Machado, talked to us about the story of Jesus walking on the water; Peter had faith enough to step out of the boat and was fine, until a storm came. Then he sank, but called out “Lord, save me.” Peter may have lost his step, but he didn’t lose his faith. He didn’t know where the next stepping stone was, but he was pretty sure there was one, and he reached out in faith in order to find it.

It’s that image that carries me, too, into seminary. In my piece on Getting to the Yes, I talked about Kierkegaard’s idea that we live life forward but understand it backward – and some of that is stepping out, seeking the next stone, not sure where it is or what it looks like. I have no idea where I’m going (woyaya!) but in faith (and with a lot of hard work) I’ll get there.

And so… all of this is but an introduction, to say that I’ll be using the category “Stepping Stones” to talk specifically about the seminary journey.

And what a journey it has been! A week in, and already my head is going to explode with all the richness and joy. Yes, I know, I’m still in those glory days… ten miles away from the muddy concert site as it were… classes don’t start until late next week. But we had an incredible week of orientation, everything crammed into fewer days because of the hurricane. Some highlights:

I met some of the most amazing people who will be on this journey with me – they are young and old, every race, every gender. Gay, straight. Christian, Jewish, other. They are still in school mode, or long out of college. They are already ministers or not sure they want to be minister. And their stories! Amazing stories of faith, hardship, struggle, and hope. Every one hearing a call to serve somehow, many – like me – unsure what form the call will take.

I met some of the most committed faculty and staff – from the facilities people to the president – all with a sense of calling, a sense of family, a sense that Union is someplace different. I know this place is special – it’s got a long history of being on the cutting edge of theological education, and situated as it is in a world class city, it’s got a special calling to be there.

I have already made some friends I feel will be with me for many years after our degrees are completed – people with whom I instantly clicked, who have a variety of experiences I can learn from. Some, like Tiara, are fellow Unitarian Universalists. Some, like Valerie, are close to my age. Some, like Clayton, are opposites in many ways but still feel like kindred spirits.

There was a delightful moment, speaking with Ruth Tonkiss Cameron, the Burke Library archivist: she shared the story of going through a professor’s papers and books – someone who taught in the first half of the last century. On the general list of contents was a note “book, Spanish”…when she got to it, she discovered it was one of the original accounts from the Spanish Inquisition. And yes, she too had that uniquely Monty Python moment: “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

There was a moment that moved me to tears – when, during a dinner, Dean Yvette Wilson came up to me, hugged me, and said “I am SO glad you are here – I remember fondly our conversation last fall.” She remembered some salient details from it…that conversation that convinced me that Union was where I should go. That she remembered me and welcomed me personally…wow.

There is, admittedly, some growing sense of “what the hell have I gotten myself into”… the workload will be heavy, and I do carry some fears about my ability to get through it all. And yet, I am comforted by the fact that I was chosen out of hundreds of people who applied, that something about my application made them say ‘this woman will fit in here’. I’m sure most of my fellow classmates are wondering the same thing – what have we gotten into – and yet we will be there for each other.

There are so many more moments from last week that I can’t even remember right now. Much of the week was a blur, with so much information and sharing and feeling brought into the fold. And this coming week will be filled with so much more – advisement, meeting faculty, and the opening day of classes. But I feel blessed, and happy to be on this journey. Not sure where the next stepping stone will be, but I have faith that I’ll find it – or at least be able to call out for help if I can’t.

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Oh Creator God, I live in a state of awe.

I am in awe of the new friends I have met, who have such wisdom and insight to share.

I am in awe of the technology that allows me to connect to these new friends – to find people all over the world who have a variety of perspectives that help feed and shape my own.

I am in awe that I have been given the space to experifail – to truly step out in faith, not certain whether I will fail or succeed.

I am in awe of  the natural world – the power of storms, the constancy of life, the ever-present regeneration.

I am in awe of God’s call to all of us, to be co-creators in a world we can only imagine in concert with one another.

I am in awe of God’s call to me, to take the step out in faith, to embrace my gifts, to life in fullness.

I am in awe of the expansiveness and limitlessness of divinity, of how far people can stretch toward the light when they feel deeply, think openly, act courageously.

I stand in awe today.

May I always stand in awe and wonder at the great mysteries.