2019.9.8 To Be a Refuge Rev. Laura Bogle
Opening
Words
Temple
by Steve Garnaas-Holmes (excerpt)
Tourists come to admire the temple,
to take pictures and buy mementos,
but it's not on their maps.
Pilgrims come seeking
their separate peace in it,
but they they can't find it.
Eventually the army arrives,
ordered to destroy the temple,
but it has vanished.
It isn't here, or there,
it isn't in a place,
it isn't a thing.
It is empty space.
It is the love between us.
It is not something that “is,”
but something that happens.
…
In
the cool of the sanctuary
we listen to the music
and we breathe.
we listen to the music
and we breathe.
Reading Red
Brocade by Naomi Shihab Nye
The
Arabs used to say,
When
a stranger appears at your door,
feed
him for three days
before
asking who he is,
where
he’s come from,
where
he’s headed.
That
way, he’ll have strength
enough
to answer.
Or,
by then you’ll be
such
good friends
you
don’t care.
Let’s
go back to that.
Rice?
Pine nuts?
Here,
take the red brocade pillow.
My
child will serve water
to
your horse.
No,
I was not busy when you came!
I
was not preparing to be busy.
That’s
the armor everyone put on
to
pretend they had a purpose
in
the world.
I
refuse to be claimed.
Your
plate is waiting.
We
will snip fresh mint
into
your tea.
2nd
Reading: -- Declaration of Conscience,
joint statement of the Unitarian Universalist Association and the Unitarian
Universalist Service Committee, January 2017
At
this extraordinary time in our nation’s history, we are called to affirm our
profound commitment to the fundamental principles of justice, equity and
compassion, to truth and the core values of American society. In the face of
looming threats to immigrants, Muslims, people of color, and the LGBTQ
community and the rise of hate speech, harassment and hate crimes, we affirm
our belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person. We will oppose
any and all unjust government actions to deport, register, discriminate, or
despoil. As people of conscience, we declare our commitment to translate our
values into action as we stand on the side of love with the most vulnerable
among us.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I want to invite you today to think about Sanctuary not
as a place, but as a practice of solidarity.
A practice of solidarity that we as a Unitarian Universalist
congregation without our own physical sanctuary are uniquely called to.
Every week when we light our chalice we say “We
remember its origin as a symbol of real sanctuary and we re-commit ourselves to
being a place of life-saving welcome for all people, no exceptions.”
For those of you who are newer or might need a reminder
I want to tell again where the symbol of the flaming chalice came from in our
Unitarian Universalist history—
During WWII the Unitarian Service Committee was formed
to give aid and shelter to those trying to escape the Nazis, including Jews,
Unitarians, and other targeted groups.
They needed a symbol, a code to mark their communications and to
indicate safe haven. An Austrian artist named
Hans Deutsch was on the run for drawing political cartoons that criticized
Adolph Hitler. He was chosen to draw a
symbol for the Service Committee and chose a chalice and flame – a chalice
symbolizing a healing cup, and the flame to symbolize a spirit of helpfulness
and sacrifice. Later in the 20th
century, congregations in the US began actually lighting a chalice at the start
of services and the practice spread. It
is a ritual remembering our willingness to risk ourselves for others.
So, what does it mean to be a real sanctuary. Is
this a sanctuary, here that we are in?
Our congregation, no matter where we have met over the
last 12 years – at least 4 different places-- certainly is a refuge for many of
us. And, yes, it has been literally life-saving
for some of us to find this community. I
know, because I have heard many many times, from folks that to be able to be in
a place where you don’t have to censor what you say, where you can be your true
self, where you can question the status quo, where you are among kindred
spirits—that can be deep and real sanctuary.
I think it is important, and it is life-giving.
AND. If we are
only creating sanctuary for ourselves, for those who decide to come to church
on a Sunday morning at 10 (newsflash, it is fewer and fewer people), then we
aren’t a true sanctuary. Even if
tomorrow a million dollars fell from the sky and we went out and built a
beautiful church sanctuary, if we aren’t
continually challenging ourselves to risk what we have on behalf of others, then
we aren’t a true sanctuary, we are a social club.
Rev. Charles Grady was a UU minister who died in 2017
at the age of 91. In his writing just
before his death he said that “Our churches are clearings in the wilderness of
this time. Our churches, he said, are
places of refuge and sanctuary for the bruised and tired, and also places of
healing and renewal. They are ‘workshops for common endeavor,’ breaking
barriers and building bridges. Churches… have a clear, strong, holy purpose,
and it is more than intellectual stimulation; it is more than the relief of finding
a tribe of others of like mind and resting easy in the relative comfort of
homogeneity; it is more than friendship and socializing; it’s more than
self-expression, or self- actualization, more than anything with “self” in the
hyphenated title…”
Please hear me:
Our own needs for care, for nurture, for healing, for shelter and
sanctuary might be what brings us to this Fellowship. That is a very good and
important thing. But once we experience
that gift, if we are not passing it on to others, like the little girl with the
umbrella, then we are not creating a true sanctuary, we are not living up to
our own vision to be a model of radical love in this community.
As Jewish and Christian teachings say over and over
and over again, we are called to welcome the stranger,
Exodus 22: 21 21 “Do
not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in
Egypt.”
Matthew 25 :
35 for I was
hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,
I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was
naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in
prison and you visited me.’ …. ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to
one of the least of these who are members of my family,[g] you did
it to me.’
Or consider the words of contemporary Palestinian poet
Naomi Shihab Nye
“The Arabs used to say
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.”
One of the ways congregations, including many UU
congregations, are taking these ethical commandments seriously is to provide
literal protective sanctuary to undocumented immigrants who are facing
deportation. Immigration and Customs
Enforcement usually will not raid a place of worship to take someone into
custody, it’s bad PR.
Over 100 UU congregations across the country have
proclaimed themselves a sanctuary church, meaning that they are able and
willing to physically house and support undocumented immigrants to delay or
prevent their deportation. Including
Holston Valley UU Church in Johnson City, and Oak Ridge UU Church.
Late last year, 40 year old Rosa Gutierrez
Lopez was facing a situation unimaginable to many of us, but all too common in
these days of mass deportation from our country.
She was under deportation orders but couldn’t imagine leaving her three US citizen children
behind: an 11-year-old daughter and her
sons, ages 9 and 6, the younger of whom has Down syndrome. She was concerned about the lack of
resources in central America for her special needs child, let alone the gang
violence she fled in the first place.
So, she sought sanctuary at
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church in Bethesda, right outside DC. She has been living at the church since then,
supported by a cadre of volunteers from the congregation which is working in
partnership with immigrant rights groups and a whole network of area
congregations committed to the cause. As
her legal case winds its slow way through appeals, she lives in safety at the
church.
Several other UU congregation
have also taken people into sanctuary in a similar way.
Does providing sanctuary mean we must have our own
building, our own home in which to host people?
Depends on what kind of sanctuary we want to provide, but I don’t think
so.
As many of you know, we had a fabulous Facilities Team
working over this last year to research options for our congregation to make a
move in the future – they considered all kinds of properties – old churches
that are now empty, storefront rentals, purchasing land, there’s been conversation
about sharing space with another church or organization. Nothing is crystal clear, except that it will
take lots more money to own a space or even a 24-7 rental. No surprise there.
But here’s the question I think we as a congregation
need to answer, even more than the money question: Why should we move? How does moving serve a mission to provide
sanctuary to more people in this community, whether they are UU’s or ever
become UUs, whether they are “like us” or not.
I can tell you friends thousands of churches dwindle
and close every year now because they can’t sustain their building costs with
the kind of church involvement we see in 2019.
So, I want you to tell you some recent stories of
sanctuary without a church building—including some stories about us--
When Rosa took sanctuary at Cedar Lane, her three
children couldn’t stay at the church with her – they were enrolled in school in
Fredericksburg, VA, and they needed to keep going to school. So the UU Fellowship of Fredericksburg, VA,
formed a team to support the three kids, and to provide transportation for them
to go back and forth to see their Mom as often as possible. They didn’t have anyone living in their
building, but that was providing a kind of sanctuary and protection.
Right here in East TN when our Witnessing Wednesday
crews show up at the ICE office, we set up a table, we provide some hospitality
for immigrants who have to wait outside, no matter the weather, to have their
paperwork processed. And yes, we do
provide umbrellas when it’s raining.
Actually, ponchos seem best, and I know Witnessing Wednesday crew would
welcome donations.
We are providing a kind of sanctuary when we work with
Welcoming Immigrant Neighbors of Blount County to give tangible and moral
support to asylum seekers here who need help with money, transportation, legal
resources as they navigate their case.
We accompany them, turning them from stranger to friend.
There’s the very specific kind of sanctuary involved
with being in solidarity with our immigrant neighbors. But sanctuary doesn’t have to be limited to
that.
A Church in Los Angeles decided to turn their downtown
property into a parking lot which they rent out through the week—and it brings
in a lot of money! Every week
they set up for church in the parking lot under pop-up tents. You can do that in LA weather. You think setting up for our services is a
lot of work!
They have said they are dedicated to being a
“houseless” church until they can do something meaningful as a church about the
affordable housing crisis there. And
they will have meaningful funds to do so because they aren’t spending a huge
amount of their budget on a church sanctuary that gets used once, maybe twice a
week. They will be spending it on providing housing sanctuary for the houseless.
I talked with Rev. Chris Battle this week – he’s been
a pastor for over 30 years, and he served Tabernacle Baptist Church, a historic
black church in East Knoxville for 10 years.
Earlier this year he left church ministry to pursue a different kind of
ministry—running an urban farm and working on the problem of food disparity in
East Knoxville where most folks don’t have easy access to a grocery store or
fresh food. Next to an abandoned old
knitting mill near downtown, there are flowers and vegetables growing. He also connects with other farms in the
region who might have a surplus. Just on
Friday he gave away hundreds of pounds of green beans donated by a big
farm—green beans that were going to go unsold and rot. He says he has met more people in the last
few months of working on the farm than he did in 10 years of ministry in a
church, with people just stopping by and wanting help or wanting to help, or
both. By the way, Chris is going to be
our guest preacher the first Sunday in October.
And what about what happened here in Blount County a
couple weeks ago when over 700 people came out for our first-ever Blount Pride
celebration? I can testify that for
those seven hours, from 3-10pm, we created holy sanctuary for LGBTQ+ folks and
their allies, in a restaurant bar.
Being involved in that effort, our congregation touched over 700
people! And our total budget congregational
budget is about $100,000. Our average
Sunday morning attendance is about 50. I
want you to think about that for a minute.
Our opening words this morning say the temple, the
sanctuary
“… isn't here, or there,
it isn't in a place,
it isn't a thing.
It is empty space.
It is the love between us.
It is not something that “is,”
but something that happens.”
it isn't in a place,
it isn't a thing.
It is empty space.
It is the love between us.
It is not something that “is,”
but something that happens.”
Some of you might take me to be saying that I don’t
think we should work on having our own building.
That’s not what I’m saying.
The question I want to keep before our Board and the
whole congregation as we consider next steps around “facilities” is not what
kind of place do we want, but What kind of love do we want to make happen? What kind of real sanctuary do we want to
make manifest in this community? Let’s
get more specific and clear about that, and then consider What resources
or facility will make that happen?
As we
continue to gather for worship and service, no matter where it is,
May
we offer
rest
and repair,
connection
and comfort.
Here
may we find a refuge
May
we find our center
our
breath,
joining
our voices, sharing what we have found here,
Calling
up the strength to go out into the world and be sanctuary for others.
May it be so, amen.
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