A People of Resilience

Sermon delivered March 6, 2016 

“A People of Resilience: Spiritual Practices in an Election Year”

Rev. Laura Bogle

Reading:  excerpt from spoken word poem “Say Yes” by Andrea Gibson

when two violins are placed in a room
if a chord on one violin is struck
the other violin will sound the note
if this is your definition of hope
this is for you
the ones who know how powerful we are
who know we can sound the music in the people around us
simply by playing our own strings
for the ones who sing life into broken wings
…

this is also for the people who wake early to watch flowers bloom
who notice the moon at noon on a day when the world
has slapped them in the face with its lack of light
for the mothers who feed their children first
and thirst for nothing when they’re full

…

this is for doubt becoming faith
for falling from grace and climbing back up
for trading our silver platters for something that matters
like the gold that shines from our hands when we hold each other

…

this is for the times you went through hell so someone else wouldn’t have to
for the time you taught a 14 year old girl she was powerful
this is for the time you taught a 14 year old boy he was beautiful
for the radical anarchist asking a republican to dance
cause what’s the chance of everyone moving from right to left
if the only moves they see are NBC and CBS
this is for the no becoming yes
for scars becoming breath
for saying i love you to people who will never say it to us
for scraping away the rust and remembering how to shine
for the dime you gave away when you didn’t have a penny
for the many beautiful things we do
for every song we’ve ever sung
for refusing to believe in miracles
because miracles are the impossible coming true
and everything is possible

this is for the possibility that guides us
and for the possibilities still waiting to sing
and spread their wings inside us

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I planned this sermon topic a while back, to talk about resiliency in an election year, I didn’t think the political rhetoric could get much lower, but boy was I wrong.

I could not have predicted that two days ago I’d hear an interview with a former Republican strategist who said that for the first time ever he’s hearing from parents who won’t let their children watch the debate—even children as old as 12 years old—because they fear for what they will hear.

Before I go further, I want to be clear about a couple of things:

Yes, I may discuss or refer to candidates today, but I cannot and will not tell you who to vote for.  Nor can this congregation in any way even appear to endorse or use any of our time and resources to endorse any candidate.  It’s against the rules, folks.  Plus, as we affirm in our mission, diversity is core to who we are. We are not a political club where only exactly like-minded people gather.  We are a community of faith and values.  Whether you are a republican or a democrat, I’m your minister, and I love you.  Period.

But can we talk about and speak out on the crucial issues of this election?  Yes.

Can we discuss how the principles of our faith might guide us?  Absolutely.

Our faith is one that is engaged in this world, which means being engaged in the issues we face as citizens of this country.

It would be easy for me to stand up here and talk about a particular Presidential candidate as the biggest problem we face today.  What is harder, is to confront what he, and yes I am talking about Donald Trump, reflects and provokes in the American people:  our FEAR.

I want to give you just a few snapshots of fear as I see it manifesting right now --

Just this week a teacher in Knoxville took her school kids, many of them Spanish-speaking, to see an art exhibit downtown.  As the children got off the bus, they were soon confronted by a man screaming obscenities and racial epithets at them.  Screamed at them to “Go back to Mexico.”

The teacher wrote about this experience: “I was scared for my kids in a way that I should never have to be - that an adult, screaming obscenities at children in a public place, might do them physical harm simply for the color of their skin and the language they were speaking….

I experienced fear in a way that I should never have to experience, that no child should ever have to experience….”

There’s also a quieter kind of fear, a chronic fear that comes from being different than the mainstream.  For instance, I heard an elder in our community this week describe how for so many years she has censored herself in political conversations in Blount County.  Why?  Fundamentally because of fear.

The Southern Poverty Law Center ranks Tennessee fourth in the nation for the number of hate groups based here.  Groups rooted in fear of others, and meant to provoke fear in others.

A Gallup poll at the end of last year showed that 51% of American are very worried or somewhat worried that they or a member of their family will be a victim of a terrorist attack.  That’s a real fear people are carrying around, whether that fear is founded our not.

Our Tennessee legislature, among other things, has been spending time figuring out how to prevent refugees from settling in our state, for fear of what they might do to us.

It is not unreasonable to think that people voting for Donald Trump are doing so because they are fundamentally afraid.  The Washington Post reports that Donald Trump is doing best in places where middle-aged white people are dying the fastest.  Unlike other demographic groups, the mortality rate of middle-aged white folks has actually been increasing over the last decade, especially for those without a college degree.  Fear of a loss of privilege, loss of dignity, loss of family, loss of life might be driving their choices more than their hopes.

Fight or flight is the way the old reptilian part of our brains responds to fear.   

Fight means we lash out – fighting with words, with attacks, with denigrating language, with violence.  We are seeing this in our facebook feed and on our television screens and in our school and communities.

Flight means we disengage, running away to another place thinking we might be safe there—how many of you have seen or heard people talking about moving to Canada?  More often we don’t physically run away, but simply remove ourselves from the conversation.  Stay silent and distant.  Fear to speak up or speak out.  Or Fear that if we do it won’t make a difference.

Fight or Flight, the end is the same: disconnection and isolation.

But here’s the Good News: We are not reptiles!  We are human beings, with the ability to practice a different way.

What in the world will help us collectively rise up alive with love and hope in this climate of fear and division?

How might we create a community of resilience here, that can stay strong in our values without letting the fear lead us to either fight or flee?

We can take some advice from scientists and scholars who have been studying what makes for a resilient people.

Several years ago author Diane Contu did a review of many studies of resilient individuals and organizations.  In her article “How Resilience Works” she pulled out three common characteristics:

The first is a kind of courageous realism— she calls it “a staunch acceptance of reality”

To describe what she means by courageous realism she shared a story from Admiral Jim Stockdale, who was a prisoner of war during the Vietnam war.  When he was asked who didn’t make it out of the camps, Stockdale replied:

            “Oh, that was easy, it was the optimists.  They were the ones who said we were going to be out by Christmas. And then they said we’d be out by Easter and then out by the Fourth of July and out by Thanksgiving, and then it was Christmas again.  You know, I think they all died of broken hearts.”

I’ve seen activists succumb to the same.  Putting all their heart and soul into a particular idealistic dream of freedom, thinking we will fully arrive there one day soon.  Only to find out that reality is harder than that, on a time table we can’t control.

Contu says “Facing reality, really facing it, is grueling work.” 

When we are unable to truly face reality, with its challenges, we sometimes mis-place our hope.  Facing reality does not mean letting go of a sense of possibility.  It does not mean sinking into despair.  But it means not glossing over the hard truths. 

When we face reality, we might find a hardier hope.  Hope is not the same as optimism.  Hope dreams dreams rooted in the real here and now.

Margaret Fuller, Unitarian transcendentalist of the 19^th century said, “Only dreamers shall understand reality, though in truth their dreaming must be not out of proportion to their waking.”

Our dreaming must not be out of proportion or our waking.  This election year, with courage, let us confront with eyes wide open the reality of our country.  Only then can we dream a different reality into being. Only then can we rise through our fear to engage.  Courageous realism can help us get over the fear of the present moment, and stay focused on a bigger picture, a longer view. 

The second characteristic of resilience Contu found was “a deep belief… that life [is] meaningful.”  Even in the midst of hardship and suffering resilient people find a way to create a story of meaning for their lives.

This is what faith is all about.  Last month we spent time thinking together about our own faith affirmations.  What are the deepest truths on which we can rely?  These truths give us meaning and purpose.  We affirm that all life is sacred and that we are in a web of relationship with all of creation—whether we like it or not.  We affirm that we each are held in a Love that is bigger than anyone of us.  We affirm that this life is important, it matters what we do; human beings can create heaven or hell here on this earth. 

I think of my friend Carol who was running in her first ever marathon in Boston when the bombing happened in 2013.  She was running for her Mom who had been diagnosed with cancer.  It was a pilgrimage for Carol, something that went beyond just running a race.  It was an embodied action of meaning for her.  And so when she didn’t get to finish the race that day in 2013, after she was pulled off the scene and confronted the reality of what had happened – the violence, the fear, the grief-- she went back. Just three days later she went back to the route and finished running it.  For her Mom, for herself, and to make a story of meaning that did not end with a bombing and an unfinished race.

Victor Frankl, survivor of Auschwitz said, “We must never forget that we may find meaning in life even when confronted with a hopeless situation, when facing a fate that cannot be changed.”

The third and final characteristic of resilience Contu offers us is “the ability to make do with whatever is at hand.”  “When situations unravel,” she says that resilient people “muddle through, imagining possibilities where others are confounded.”

It is a kind of improvisation – as conditions change, not relying on the same old ways.  Instead, relying on our own agency to respond.  No matter what, we can act, we can do something, where we are, to respond to the circumstances.  I challenge us all to imagine new possibilities for responding to the fear and anxiety around us.  What is it you can do where you are, with what you have?  What are the possibilities you can imagine for connecting across fear – in your workplace?  At your kids’ school?  In the grocery store?  In the state house?  More importantly, What can we do together?

Facing reality.

Finding meaning.

Creating new possibility with what we have.

Three practices for resilience in an election year.  In these Fear-Full times let’s practice saying yes to life and connection instead of fighting or fleeing.

Let’s remember to strike our own chords of Love instead of fear, so that others might sound that note also. 

And let us give thanks for

“the possibility that guides us
and for the possibilities still waiting to sing
and spread their wings inside us” (Andrea Gibson)

Amen.