I’d never heard of Kenny Chesney until several years ago. Kenny Chesney was a successful Country singer for years before I’d heard of him. Then he had a crossover hit. “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy.” I love that song – it made me laugh! I’d never heard of Alan Jackson until several years ago. Alan Jackson was a successful Country singer for years before I’d heard of him. Then he had a crossover hit. “Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning On That September Day,” about 9-11. I love that song – it made me cry. I’d never heard of Cee Lo Green until several months ago. But that’s okay, because he’s probably never heard of me either.
Cee Lo Green is a rap singer and music producer. Cee Lo Green is one-half of the duo, Gnarles Barkley, who had a hit song a few years ago called “Crazy.” I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t see Cee Lo Green until he was on The Colbert Report last fall. That’s when he sang his new hit song, “Forget You.” That’s a euphemism for another phrase that we won’t get into here in church. Stephen Colbert being Stephen Colbert, had Cee Lo Green replace “Forget You,” with the words, “Fox News.” “I see you driving ‘round town with the girl I love and I’m like, ‘Fox News.’”
“Forget You” is a delightful song. I love that song. I listen to that song over and over and over again. Not for its lyrics; no, no, no. But the melody is…it’s what they used to say about songs on American Bandstand. “It’s got a good beat and it’s easy to dance to.” The lyrics are problematic, especially for a preacher. “I see you driving ‘round town with the girl I love and I’m like, ‘Forget you!’ I guess the change in my pocket wasn’t enough and I’m like. ‘Forget you and forget her too.’” The song goes on like that, with Cee Lo Green seemingly bitterly saying, “Forget you.” He told Stephen Colbert the song is not autobiographical. Stephen Colbert said something like, “Oh, because no girl would ever leave you for another man.” Cee Lo Green said something like, “That’s right.” I don’t want to make more out of this song than is necessary, but I do think there is something to be made out of this song. Spiritual leaders would say Cee Lo Green is making the wrong choice. He shouldn’t say, “Forget you.” He should say another word that begins with the letter “F.”
At a memorial service I say, “We mourn the loss and celebrate the life” of the deceased. What would I say if I were to conduct a memorial service for Osama bin Laden? “We celebrate the loss and mourn the life of Osama bin Laden”? When I first heard the news of Osama bin Laden’s death, part of me wanted to run outside, shout for joy and fire my guns into the air! (You know, if I owned any guns.) But upon further reflection, Lincoln’s words about the “better angels of our nature” came to me. And I remembered that Osama bin Laden was a human being just like you and me. Since I knew I would be speaking at a Unitarian Universalist church a couple weeks ago, I remembered the first principle of Unitarian Universalism, which affirms and promotes, “The inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Did the person who planned the 9-11 attacks have “worth and dignity”? However reluctantly we might answer that question, the only conclusion we can come to is: Of course he did. So, although I understood the feelings of my fellow Americans, who danced in the streets of Washington, New York and elsewhere, I would not have joined them. And I appreciated our president’s understated, non-smirking response to bin Laden’s death. Barack Obama was all business. And while his business as President and Commander in Chief of the United States of America was to bring Osama bin Laden to justice, my business as a pastor is to remind us of the words of Jesus and Swami Sivananda and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
Jesus knows about forgiveness. According to the Gospel of Matthew in the Christian New Testament, “Then Peter came and said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if someone sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven times.’” We’re not to take that answer literally. He doesn’t mean forgive 490 times. He means forgive forever.
Swami Sivananda knows about forgiveness. Swami Sivananda was a Hindu spiritual leader. Swami Sivananda says if you forgive, “You will enjoy peace, poise and serenity. You will become divine.” In other words, we will become like God, who, if God exists, must be full of forgiveness. As the saying goes: To err is human; to forgive, divine.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu knows about forgiveness. Archbishop Desmond Tutu was chair of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission after Apartheid was ended in that country. Archbishop Desmond Tutu says, “[W]hen I talk of forgiveness I mean the belief that you can come out the other side a better person. A better person than the one being consumed by anger and hatred.” If only we could all be like Desmond Tutu.
When I was going through a divorce several years ago, I went to see a therapist, because I wasn’t very forgiving. She said basically that when you fail to forgive someone who has hurt you, “You let them live rent free inside your head.” And who wants to do that?
A woman is sexually assaulted. Understandably, she hates her rapist. The woman is consumed with anger. Her life is limited to reliving that nightmare over and over and over again. Her life is a repetition of feelings of: anger and hatred, anger and hatred, anger and hatred. Until one day she realizes her feelings are doing nothing to her rapist, who’s been sent to prison for many years. She is the only person being hurt by her anger and hatred. So after several years of therapy, she decides to forgive her rapist and is set free. She stops saying, “Forget you,” or words to that affect, and says instead, “I forgive you.”
A man is ripped off by a con artist. He invests money with him. He makes an incredible return on his investment for a few years. Ten, fifteen, twenty percent. So he ends up investing all of his life savings with the con artist. The man eventually learns he’s been the victim of a ponzi scheme. He looses his life savings. How could he be so stupid? They say whenever anything seems too good to be true, it probably is. Why didn’t he realize that? Understandably, he hates the con artist. The man is consumed with anger. His life is limited to reliving that financial nightmare over and over and over again. His life is a repetition of feelings of: anger and hatred, anger and hatred, anger and hatred. Until one day he realizes his feelings are doing nothing to the con artist, who’s been sent to prison for many years. He is the only person being hurt by his anger and hatred. So after several years of therapy, he decides to forgive the con artist and is set free. He stops saying, “Forget you,” or words to that affect, and says instead, “I forgive you.”
A girl is verbally abused by her father. “You’re stupid. You’re ugly. You’ll never amount to anything.” He told her that since she was a baby. For a time, she even believes her father’s vicious words. Understandably, she hates her father. The girl, now a woman, is consumed with anger. Her life is limited to reliving her childhood nightmare over and over and over again. Her life is a repetition of feelings of: anger and hatred, anger and hatred, anger and hatred. Until one day she realizes her feelings are doing nothing to her father. She is the only person being hurt by her anger and hatred. So after several years of therapy, she decides to forgive her father and is set free. She stops saying, “Forget you,” or words to that affect, and says instead, “I forgive you.”
Forgiving others is one thing. What about when we have to forgive ourselves, for a mistake we made years ago or just yesterday? If we don’t, we risk living that mistake over and over and over again. If we’ve made such a mistake, it’s time to stop saying, “Forget you,” or words to that affect, to ourselves, and to say instead, “I forgive you.” Then we will be set free.
So, while I love Cee Lo Green’s song – because it’s got a good beat and it’s easy to dance to – the words we all should live by are not, “Forget you,” or words to that affect. The words we all should live by are, “I forgive you.” Otherwise we risk living in an endless loop of anger and hatred, anger and hatred, anger and hatred. And we risk living that over and over and over again. Almost as often as I listen to Cee Lo Green’s song, “Forget you.”
Monday, May 23, 2011
We Give Thanks For This Community
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
We give thanks for this community.
It is full of life and love.
We give thanks for being together.
It is where we find independence.
We give thanks for one another.
It is how we make it – here and everywhere.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
We give thanks for this community.
It is full of life and love.
We give thanks for being together.
It is where we find independence.
We give thanks for one another.
It is how we make it – here and everywhere.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Prophet & Loss
Before I begin I want to thank you all again for inviting me to speak to you once more. I guess it would’ve been a bad thing if, after I spoke here last week, you all said, “Well, that’s okay, Bill, once was enough.” As you probably know, sometime after this service you all will vote for or against me to be your next pastor. I got to thinking, this is sort of like American Idol. You will all cast your ballots and I’ll either get chosen or not. Although I am the only contestant. So if I come in second to myself, that’ll be quite embarrassing.
I like to start my sermons with a joke; a funny story, a humorous anecdote. When I spoke here a year-and-a-half ago, I told you a funny story that I want to tell you again. I wasn’t going to tell it again, because I already told it once, but I want to tell it again for two reasons. One, it fits in perfectly with today’s sermon. And two, I think you ought to know, if you do hire me, that I do sometimes repeat my stories. (Hey, I only have so many of them and sometimes I forget if I’ve told a story already.) About 4 years ago, I went to the Secretary of State’s office to get my driver’s license renewed. Now I don’t know if I looked kind of raggedy that day or what, but I think the woman behind the counter thought I was a homeless man or something. She asked me, “Do you hear voices? Do you have hallucinations?” What? Those our strange questions. I said, “Well, I do have visions, but I think I’m supposed to because I’m a pastor.” She laughed and said to the woman next to her, “This one says he has visions, but it’s okay because he’s a pastor.” She laughed too. I want to talk with you today about vision; more specifically about prophets who have vision.
May 21st, that’s when a group says the world will come to an end. I’ve seen billboards that proclaim it; maybe you have too. Judgment Day they call it. But heck, I live in Holland, Michigan, where everyday is judgment day. Just try mowing your lawn on a Sunday; see how many judgmental, dirty looks you get. Some people would call those who predict the end times prophets. But I don’t call them prophets; they’re more like psychics. They’re like Jeanne Dixon predicting the future. Prophets don’t predict the future; prophets speak truth to power.
The Hebrew prophet Isaiah said, “The spirit of God is upon me, because God has anointed me; God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of God’s favor.” That’s what a prophet does. He or she doesn’t predict the future; other than to say: your future’s going to be pretty bleak unless you help people. Prophets bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim the good news and speak truth to power. The Unitarian Universalist prophet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “In the soul of man there is a justice whose retributions are instant and entire. He who does a good deed, is instantly ennobled. He who does a mean deed, is by the action itself contracted.” That’s what prophets do. They speak truth to power.
Gandhi was a prophet. Gandhi said, “I am a Muslim and a Hindu and a Christian and a Jew and so are all of you.” Prophets speak truth to power and sometimes say things people don’t want to hear. Dr. King was a prophet. Dr. King said, “I have a dream that one day…all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing.”
Jesus was a prophet; whatever else you might say about him, you’d have to say he was at least a prophet. He spoke truth to power. I know some people at a Unitarian Universalist church don’t like to hear about Jesus. But I don’t want to talk about the mythological Jesus: the walk on water, the turn water into wine Jesus, the Hollywood Jesus, who looked like Mel Gibson. I want to talk to you about the man Jesus, who probably looked Mel Brooks.
He was Jewish after all. I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked revenge in the face and said, “Forgive and you will be forgiven.” I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked hate in the face and said, “Love your enemies.” I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked war in the face and said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” That’s why they killed him. They didn’t kill him because he had to die, they didn’t kill him because he lived to die, they didn’t kill him because he had to die to rise again, they didn’t kill him because he had die for our sins. He didn’t die “for” our sins, he died “because” of our sins. He died because we didn’t want to give up our sins of revenge and hate and war. We’d rather kill him. They killed him because he was a prophet, because he spoke truth to power. Just like they killed Gandhi, just like they killed Dr. King. Just like they’d kill Jesus again today.
Remember shortly after 9-11, when President Bush went to Ground Zero and had his arm around that firefighter? What if President Bush had had his arm around Jesus instead? When President Bush said: We’re going to war, we’re going to hunt these people down and we’re going kill them; imagine what would have happened if Jesus would have said, “No, no, no; don’t do any of that.” “Forgive and you will be forgiven.” “Love your enemies.” “Blessed are the peacemakers.” All across America people would be shouting, “Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!” Prophets usually don’t make it to retirement age, they don’t usually draw a pension, they don’t usually get a gold watch. They usually get killed.
I’ve been visiting an inmate every week for the past few months at the Ottawa County Jail. We talk and meditate and I try to lift his spirits. It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to bind up the brokenhearted. I write a religion column for the Holland Sentinel every few weeks. I write about justice and compassion and peace.
It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to proclaim the good news. I went before the Holland City Council a year ago this month. (I mentioned that last week.) I asked them to pass a Gay Rights ordinance. I’ve gone back to city hall many times in the last year, speaking in support of something that’s opposed by many religious and business leaders in Holland. It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to speak truth to power. Does all this make me a prophet? What am I, joking?
I have a friend in the Reformed Church in America in Holland. He told me that at a Reformed Church in America meeting in Holland, where there were a bunch of clergy, a minister asked, “How can we be more prophetic in our ministries?” The leader of the group said, “Well, whenever I think of a prophetic presence in ministry, I think of Bill Freeman.” What is he, joking?
I met a businessman in Holland a few months ago. I’d heard of him before, but I’d never met him. He’s a minority. He’s a liberal. He’s my kind of guy. I saw him at an event back in November and went over to introduce myself. I stuck out my hand and said, “Hi, I’m Bill Freeman.” He brushed my hand aside, gave me a big bear hug and said in my ear, “I know who you are. I love what you’re doing in this town.” What is he, joking?
This church, like every church, needs a pastor, binding up the brokenhearted. This church, like every church, needs a preacher, proclaiming the good news: forgiveness, love and peace. This church, like every church, needs a prophet, speaking truth to power. Today, when you vote for or against me…vote for or against me, because I want to be your pastor, binding up the brokenhearted; vote for or against me, because I want to be your preacher, proclaiming the good news: forgiveness, love and peace; vote for or against me, because I want to be – with all humility and to the best of my ability – your prophet, speaking truth to power. And that’s no joke.
Oh, and by the way, there’s no rule or regulation, there’s no creed or code, there’s no doctrine or dogma that says only one person in a church can do the work of a pastor/preacher/prophet. I think you all know that. I think many of you have done the work of a pastor/preacher/prophet here at Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation. And I hope that if you agree to hire me, you’ll agree to help me: to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim the good news and to speak truth to power.
I like to start my sermons with a joke; a funny story, a humorous anecdote. When I spoke here a year-and-a-half ago, I told you a funny story that I want to tell you again. I wasn’t going to tell it again, because I already told it once, but I want to tell it again for two reasons. One, it fits in perfectly with today’s sermon. And two, I think you ought to know, if you do hire me, that I do sometimes repeat my stories. (Hey, I only have so many of them and sometimes I forget if I’ve told a story already.) About 4 years ago, I went to the Secretary of State’s office to get my driver’s license renewed. Now I don’t know if I looked kind of raggedy that day or what, but I think the woman behind the counter thought I was a homeless man or something. She asked me, “Do you hear voices? Do you have hallucinations?” What? Those our strange questions. I said, “Well, I do have visions, but I think I’m supposed to because I’m a pastor.” She laughed and said to the woman next to her, “This one says he has visions, but it’s okay because he’s a pastor.” She laughed too. I want to talk with you today about vision; more specifically about prophets who have vision.
May 21st, that’s when a group says the world will come to an end. I’ve seen billboards that proclaim it; maybe you have too. Judgment Day they call it. But heck, I live in Holland, Michigan, where everyday is judgment day. Just try mowing your lawn on a Sunday; see how many judgmental, dirty looks you get. Some people would call those who predict the end times prophets. But I don’t call them prophets; they’re more like psychics. They’re like Jeanne Dixon predicting the future. Prophets don’t predict the future; prophets speak truth to power.
The Hebrew prophet Isaiah said, “The spirit of God is upon me, because God has anointed me; God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of God’s favor.” That’s what a prophet does. He or she doesn’t predict the future; other than to say: your future’s going to be pretty bleak unless you help people. Prophets bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim the good news and speak truth to power. The Unitarian Universalist prophet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “In the soul of man there is a justice whose retributions are instant and entire. He who does a good deed, is instantly ennobled. He who does a mean deed, is by the action itself contracted.” That’s what prophets do. They speak truth to power.
Gandhi was a prophet. Gandhi said, “I am a Muslim and a Hindu and a Christian and a Jew and so are all of you.” Prophets speak truth to power and sometimes say things people don’t want to hear. Dr. King was a prophet. Dr. King said, “I have a dream that one day…all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing.”
Jesus was a prophet; whatever else you might say about him, you’d have to say he was at least a prophet. He spoke truth to power. I know some people at a Unitarian Universalist church don’t like to hear about Jesus. But I don’t want to talk about the mythological Jesus: the walk on water, the turn water into wine Jesus, the Hollywood Jesus, who looked like Mel Gibson. I want to talk to you about the man Jesus, who probably looked Mel Brooks.
He was Jewish after all. I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked revenge in the face and said, “Forgive and you will be forgiven.” I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked hate in the face and said, “Love your enemies.” I want to talk to you about the Jesus who looked war in the face and said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” That’s why they killed him. They didn’t kill him because he had to die, they didn’t kill him because he lived to die, they didn’t kill him because he had to die to rise again, they didn’t kill him because he had die for our sins. He didn’t die “for” our sins, he died “because” of our sins. He died because we didn’t want to give up our sins of revenge and hate and war. We’d rather kill him. They killed him because he was a prophet, because he spoke truth to power. Just like they killed Gandhi, just like they killed Dr. King. Just like they’d kill Jesus again today.
Remember shortly after 9-11, when President Bush went to Ground Zero and had his arm around that firefighter? What if President Bush had had his arm around Jesus instead? When President Bush said: We’re going to war, we’re going to hunt these people down and we’re going kill them; imagine what would have happened if Jesus would have said, “No, no, no; don’t do any of that.” “Forgive and you will be forgiven.” “Love your enemies.” “Blessed are the peacemakers.” All across America people would be shouting, “Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!” Prophets usually don’t make it to retirement age, they don’t usually draw a pension, they don’t usually get a gold watch. They usually get killed.
I’ve been visiting an inmate every week for the past few months at the Ottawa County Jail. We talk and meditate and I try to lift his spirits. It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to bind up the brokenhearted. I write a religion column for the Holland Sentinel every few weeks. I write about justice and compassion and peace.
It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to proclaim the good news. I went before the Holland City Council a year ago this month. (I mentioned that last week.) I asked them to pass a Gay Rights ordinance. I’ve gone back to city hall many times in the last year, speaking in support of something that’s opposed by many religious and business leaders in Holland. It may not be much, but I’d like to think that I’m trying to speak truth to power. Does all this make me a prophet? What am I, joking?
I have a friend in the Reformed Church in America in Holland. He told me that at a Reformed Church in America meeting in Holland, where there were a bunch of clergy, a minister asked, “How can we be more prophetic in our ministries?” The leader of the group said, “Well, whenever I think of a prophetic presence in ministry, I think of Bill Freeman.” What is he, joking?
I met a businessman in Holland a few months ago. I’d heard of him before, but I’d never met him. He’s a minority. He’s a liberal. He’s my kind of guy. I saw him at an event back in November and went over to introduce myself. I stuck out my hand and said, “Hi, I’m Bill Freeman.” He brushed my hand aside, gave me a big bear hug and said in my ear, “I know who you are. I love what you’re doing in this town.” What is he, joking?
This church, like every church, needs a pastor, binding up the brokenhearted. This church, like every church, needs a preacher, proclaiming the good news: forgiveness, love and peace. This church, like every church, needs a prophet, speaking truth to power. Today, when you vote for or against me…vote for or against me, because I want to be your pastor, binding up the brokenhearted; vote for or against me, because I want to be your preacher, proclaiming the good news: forgiveness, love and peace; vote for or against me, because I want to be – with all humility and to the best of my ability – your prophet, speaking truth to power. And that’s no joke.
Oh, and by the way, there’s no rule or regulation, there’s no creed or code, there’s no doctrine or dogma that says only one person in a church can do the work of a pastor/preacher/prophet. I think you all know that. I think many of you have done the work of a pastor/preacher/prophet here at Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation. And I hope that if you agree to hire me, you’ll agree to help me: to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim the good news and to speak truth to power.
We Give Thanks For This Day
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
We give thanks for this day.
May we always see the beauty of the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees.
We give thanks for this place.
May it always be a harbor of intelligence and forgiveness and love and peace.
We give thanks for these people.
May they always be curious and compassionate and committed and kind.
Now and forevermore.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
We give thanks for this day.
May we always see the beauty of the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees.
We give thanks for this place.
May it always be a harbor of intelligence and forgiveness and love and peace.
We give thanks for these people.
May they always be curious and compassionate and committed and kind.
Now and forevermore.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Who Am I? Why Am I Here?
Before I begin, I want to thank you all for inviting me to speak here today. I am humbled and honored that you would even consider me as a candidate for your part-time pastor position. The good news is, if you choose me as your pastor, I might be able to work for free. The other day I got an email from a widow in Nigeria. For some reason, she wants to give me millions of dollars. If that happens – and I don’t have any reason to think it won’t – then I’ll work here for free. I’m not a greedy man. So keep your fingers crossed for me.
“Who am I? Why am I here?” Those were the memorable words of Admiral James Stockdale back in 1992. Some of you may remember that Admiral Stockdale was Ross Perot’s Running Mate. They ran as Independents. Admiral Stockdale took part in the Vice Presidential debate, along with Al Gore and Dan Quayle. Admiral Stockdale was asked to say a little something about himself. That’s when he blurted out two, perhaps unintentionally profound questions. “Who am I? Why am I here?” Who are any of us? Why are any of us here? I’m not here to talk about Admiral Stockdale. I’m here to talk about somebody I know a little bit more about. Me.
A Christmas party is one reason I’m at a Unitarian Universalist church today. When I was in the 3rd grade, my public school had a Christmas party. (Not a Holiday Party, Bill O’Reilly would be happy to know: A Christmas party.) I looked around for a friend of mine and didn’t see her. I asked my teacher where she was. I was told, “Oh, she’s Jewish and they don’t believe in Christmas; so she decided to stay home.” I was shocked. I couldn’t articulate it at the time, but I knew this wasn’t right. How could my public school make my friend feel excluded? I would remember that incident many years later.
In August of 2009 I was planting a Christian church in Holland. Granted, I was trying to make it the most liberal Christian church ever, but it was still a Christian church. That month I was at a Christian conference on new church starts. I kept hearing about how new church starts must welcome everyone. “And that’s what we do,” the conference leaders were saying, “We welcome everyone.” They meant we welcome people regardless of color or age or sexual orientation. “We welcome everyone,” they said. I thought: No we don’t; we don’t welcome a Hindu who wants to remain a Hindu or a Buddhist who wants to remain a Buddhist or a Muslim who wants to remain a Muslim. We’d try to convince them to become Christians. I thought: I can’t do this; I wouldn’t try to convince my 3rd grade classmate to be a Christian rather than a Jew. I can’t do this. What am I going to do?
In September of 2009, one month later, I got a call from my denomination, which was paying me to plant this Christian church in Holland. I was told, the money has run out for the Christian church I was planting in Holland.
Really? So now, I’m no longer being paid to plant a Christian church in Holland. Was that coincidental or providential? We report, you decide. All of a sudden, I was free to plant the kind of church I wanted to plant. So I started meeting with people of various faiths; and none. Then on January 1, 2010, we started Interfaith Congregation. A few weeks before that, I ran into a Unitarian minister, I think from Ohio, at a conference. I told him I was starting a church that welcomes everyone, not just people regardless of their race or age or sexual orientation, but Christian and Jew, Buddhist and Hindu, Muslim and more. I said we’re calling it, “Interfaith Congregation.” He said, “Oh, you’re starting a Unitarian church.” I said, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
In February of 2010, one month after I started Interfaith Congregation, I was summoned to a meeting of my Christian denomination. I was told that Interfaith Congregation was not a “legitimate ministry.” Really? I was invited to take a temporary leave of absence. Really? Instead, I decided to take a permanent leave of absence. That afternoon I went home and emailed the Unitarian Universalist Association. I said, “I think it’s time for me to become a Unitarian Universalist minister; I don’t seem to fit into the Christian church.” They wrote me back and said, “Isn’t it nice to finally realize where you belong.” Yes, it is nice. Since then I’ve been in the process of becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister. This past Christmas Day – for those who appreciate irony – I joined the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship, the UU church without walls, the largest church in the UUA. So now, like many of you, I belong to a Unitarian Universalist church.
Osama bin Laden is why I became a minister. My birthday is 9-11. On my birthday in 2001, after watching the tragic events of that day, I decide to move from the media to the ministry. You probably know Duncan Littlefair, the longtime minister of Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids. I was a longtime member of Fountain Street Church. I had gone to Duncan a couple months before 9-11 and said, “Duncan, I think I should become a minister.” He said, “Oh no, Bill! That’s not for you! You need to stay in the media!” To me, Duncan was like the voice of God and the voice of God had just told me I shouldn’t become a minister. So I didn’t. After 9-11 happened, I went back to see Duncan. I said, “Duncan, my birthday is 9-11; I really feel called to become a minister.” He looked at me and said, “You must do this, Bill!” So now, the voice of God spoke to me again and told me I must become a minister. So I did. I wanted to pursue a path to pastoring to one day preach love in a sometimes hateful world. I hope I’ve done that.
Two songs sum up the response to 9-11. Both of them are country songs. One by Toby Keith; the other by Alan Jackson. The one by Toby Keith is called, “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.” “Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list, and the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.” It’s all about revenge and hate. The one by Alan Jackson is called, “Where Were You.” “Where were you when the world stop turning on that September day? …But I know Jesus and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young; faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us, and the greatest is love.” It’s all about compassion and love. Those two song represent the two choices of the human heart, not just to 9-11, but to just about every decision we face. Will we choose hate or love? The decision we make makes all the difference.
Whenever I conduct a memorial service I say, “We mourn the loss and celebrate the life” of the deceased. What would I say if I were to conduct a memorial service for Osama bin Laden? “We celebrate the loss and mourn the life of Osama bin Laden”? When I first heard the news of bin Laden’s death, part of me wanted to run outside, shout for joy and fire a bunch of bullets into the air! (You know, if I owned a gun.) But then Lincoln’s words about the “better angels of our nature” came to me. And I remembered that bin Laden was a human being just like you and me. Then I remembered the first principle of Unitarian Universalism, which affirms and promotes, “The inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Did the person who planned the 9-11 attacks have “worth and dignity”? However reluctantly we might answer that question, the only conclusion we can come to is: Of course he did. So, although I understood the feelings of my fellow Americans, who danced in the streets of Washington, New York and elsewhere, I would not have joined them. And I appreciated our president’s understated, non-smirking response to bin Laden’s death. Barack Obama was all business. And while his business as President and Commander in Chief of the United States of America was to bring Osama bin Laden to justice, my business as a pastor is to remind us of the words of Gandhi, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong,” and the words Jesus, “Love your enemies.”
So: Who am I? Why am I here? I’m a husband, a father, a friend. I’m a liberal minister and the founding chaplain of Interfaith Congregation in Holland. I went before the Holland City Council a year ago this month, asking them to pass a gay rights ordinance. I’m a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship. And I hope I’m your future pastor, because one day I’d like to get to know who you are and why you are here.
“Who am I? Why am I here?” Those were the memorable words of Admiral James Stockdale back in 1992. Some of you may remember that Admiral Stockdale was Ross Perot’s Running Mate. They ran as Independents. Admiral Stockdale took part in the Vice Presidential debate, along with Al Gore and Dan Quayle. Admiral Stockdale was asked to say a little something about himself. That’s when he blurted out two, perhaps unintentionally profound questions. “Who am I? Why am I here?” Who are any of us? Why are any of us here? I’m not here to talk about Admiral Stockdale. I’m here to talk about somebody I know a little bit more about. Me.
A Christmas party is one reason I’m at a Unitarian Universalist church today. When I was in the 3rd grade, my public school had a Christmas party. (Not a Holiday Party, Bill O’Reilly would be happy to know: A Christmas party.) I looked around for a friend of mine and didn’t see her. I asked my teacher where she was. I was told, “Oh, she’s Jewish and they don’t believe in Christmas; so she decided to stay home.” I was shocked. I couldn’t articulate it at the time, but I knew this wasn’t right. How could my public school make my friend feel excluded? I would remember that incident many years later.
In August of 2009 I was planting a Christian church in Holland. Granted, I was trying to make it the most liberal Christian church ever, but it was still a Christian church. That month I was at a Christian conference on new church starts. I kept hearing about how new church starts must welcome everyone. “And that’s what we do,” the conference leaders were saying, “We welcome everyone.” They meant we welcome people regardless of color or age or sexual orientation. “We welcome everyone,” they said. I thought: No we don’t; we don’t welcome a Hindu who wants to remain a Hindu or a Buddhist who wants to remain a Buddhist or a Muslim who wants to remain a Muslim. We’d try to convince them to become Christians. I thought: I can’t do this; I wouldn’t try to convince my 3rd grade classmate to be a Christian rather than a Jew. I can’t do this. What am I going to do?
In September of 2009, one month later, I got a call from my denomination, which was paying me to plant this Christian church in Holland. I was told, the money has run out for the Christian church I was planting in Holland.
Really? So now, I’m no longer being paid to plant a Christian church in Holland. Was that coincidental or providential? We report, you decide. All of a sudden, I was free to plant the kind of church I wanted to plant. So I started meeting with people of various faiths; and none. Then on January 1, 2010, we started Interfaith Congregation. A few weeks before that, I ran into a Unitarian minister, I think from Ohio, at a conference. I told him I was starting a church that welcomes everyone, not just people regardless of their race or age or sexual orientation, but Christian and Jew, Buddhist and Hindu, Muslim and more. I said we’re calling it, “Interfaith Congregation.” He said, “Oh, you’re starting a Unitarian church.” I said, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
In February of 2010, one month after I started Interfaith Congregation, I was summoned to a meeting of my Christian denomination. I was told that Interfaith Congregation was not a “legitimate ministry.” Really? I was invited to take a temporary leave of absence. Really? Instead, I decided to take a permanent leave of absence. That afternoon I went home and emailed the Unitarian Universalist Association. I said, “I think it’s time for me to become a Unitarian Universalist minister; I don’t seem to fit into the Christian church.” They wrote me back and said, “Isn’t it nice to finally realize where you belong.” Yes, it is nice. Since then I’ve been in the process of becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister. This past Christmas Day – for those who appreciate irony – I joined the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship, the UU church without walls, the largest church in the UUA. So now, like many of you, I belong to a Unitarian Universalist church.
Osama bin Laden is why I became a minister. My birthday is 9-11. On my birthday in 2001, after watching the tragic events of that day, I decide to move from the media to the ministry. You probably know Duncan Littlefair, the longtime minister of Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids. I was a longtime member of Fountain Street Church. I had gone to Duncan a couple months before 9-11 and said, “Duncan, I think I should become a minister.” He said, “Oh no, Bill! That’s not for you! You need to stay in the media!” To me, Duncan was like the voice of God and the voice of God had just told me I shouldn’t become a minister. So I didn’t. After 9-11 happened, I went back to see Duncan. I said, “Duncan, my birthday is 9-11; I really feel called to become a minister.” He looked at me and said, “You must do this, Bill!” So now, the voice of God spoke to me again and told me I must become a minister. So I did. I wanted to pursue a path to pastoring to one day preach love in a sometimes hateful world. I hope I’ve done that.
Two songs sum up the response to 9-11. Both of them are country songs. One by Toby Keith; the other by Alan Jackson. The one by Toby Keith is called, “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.” “Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list, and the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.” It’s all about revenge and hate. The one by Alan Jackson is called, “Where Were You.” “Where were you when the world stop turning on that September day? …But I know Jesus and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young; faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us, and the greatest is love.” It’s all about compassion and love. Those two song represent the two choices of the human heart, not just to 9-11, but to just about every decision we face. Will we choose hate or love? The decision we make makes all the difference.
Whenever I conduct a memorial service I say, “We mourn the loss and celebrate the life” of the deceased. What would I say if I were to conduct a memorial service for Osama bin Laden? “We celebrate the loss and mourn the life of Osama bin Laden”? When I first heard the news of bin Laden’s death, part of me wanted to run outside, shout for joy and fire a bunch of bullets into the air! (You know, if I owned a gun.) But then Lincoln’s words about the “better angels of our nature” came to me. And I remembered that bin Laden was a human being just like you and me. Then I remembered the first principle of Unitarian Universalism, which affirms and promotes, “The inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Did the person who planned the 9-11 attacks have “worth and dignity”? However reluctantly we might answer that question, the only conclusion we can come to is: Of course he did. So, although I understood the feelings of my fellow Americans, who danced in the streets of Washington, New York and elsewhere, I would not have joined them. And I appreciated our president’s understated, non-smirking response to bin Laden’s death. Barack Obama was all business. And while his business as President and Commander in Chief of the United States of America was to bring Osama bin Laden to justice, my business as a pastor is to remind us of the words of Gandhi, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong,” and the words Jesus, “Love your enemies.”
So: Who am I? Why am I here? I’m a husband, a father, a friend. I’m a liberal minister and the founding chaplain of Interfaith Congregation in Holland. I went before the Holland City Council a year ago this month, asking them to pass a gay rights ordinance. I’m a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship. And I hope I’m your future pastor, because one day I’d like to get to know who you are and why you are here.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Osama’s dead: Let’s bring our troops home
Thanks to our military men and women, and our president and commander-in-chief Barack Obama, Osama bin Laden has been brought to justice. While I wish bin Laden would have been captured, tried, convicted and sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole, after nearly 10 years we can finally say: Mission accomplished.
Now that we’ve done what we set out to do after 9/11, with a deadly detour into Iraq, let us bring our troops home from Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and wherever else we have boots on the ground. After all, the last time some other country had boots on the ground in our land, we resented it, hated it and rebelled against it and sent them packing back to England.
Once we welcome back our troops to America, saving billions of hard-earned taxpayer dollars, we will be able to focus on helping those in need in this country, educating our young and traveling down that long and winding road to peace on earth, goodwill toward all.
(Letter to the Editor, Holland Sentinel)
Now that we’ve done what we set out to do after 9/11, with a deadly detour into Iraq, let us bring our troops home from Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and wherever else we have boots on the ground. After all, the last time some other country had boots on the ground in our land, we resented it, hated it and rebelled against it and sent them packing back to England.
Once we welcome back our troops to America, saving billions of hard-earned taxpayer dollars, we will be able to focus on helping those in need in this country, educating our young and traveling down that long and winding road to peace on earth, goodwill toward all.
(Letter to the Editor, Holland Sentinel)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
We Give Thanks For Flowers
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
We give thanks for flowers.
We give thanks for tulips and daisies and lilies and roses.
We give thanks for the sun and the soil and the rain.
We give thanks for gardens and gardeners.
We give thanks for birds and bees and bushes and trees.
We give thanks for the beauty of the earth.
We give thanks for spring.
And we hold out hope that all people everywhere will one day be able to enjoy it.
Now and forevermore.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
We give thanks for flowers.
We give thanks for tulips and daisies and lilies and roses.
We give thanks for the sun and the soil and the rain.
We give thanks for gardens and gardeners.
We give thanks for birds and bees and bushes and trees.
We give thanks for the beauty of the earth.
We give thanks for spring.
And we hold out hope that all people everywhere will one day be able to enjoy it.
Now and forevermore.
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
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