Center and Circumference

Rev. Kathleen Ellis

24 April 05

Center and circumference are the touch points of this sermon. Imagine an inner core in the center of our hearts. Imagine an inner core in the center of Live Oak. The core is surrounded by a permeable outer circle that allows many kinds of people to enter and depart. The more closely their core values match our own, the closer we dare to let them get to our center. As we strengthen our heart’s core, we are better able to embrace more of the world. At the outer edge is the boundary beyond which are people who in no way share our core values.

The circumference forms a circle around the center. My image places the circumference around me in all directions so that I am surrounded by a sphere of everything that exists. Altogether, we travel through life in multiple orbits through the adventures of personal experiences, the influences of a changing culture, and the wisdom of age.

We begin with such a small worldview and such profound influences by our families of origin that early values become the core of who we are and how we view the world.

Over time we grow through experience and education. In the 60s we first saw actual photographs of the earth from space—and that’s still a profound image for astronauts who see it for themselves from out there somewhere. This planet, from a distance, looks both beautiful and fragile. For all their limitations, television has expanded our world, the Internet has eliminated distances among us, and cell phones have made us more accessible than ever before. Our neighbors may not be just like us anymore. They may dress differently, worship unfamiliar gods, or teach their children in unconventional ways.

Carole King sang,

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,

An everlasting vision of the everchanging view,

A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold,

A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold.

--Carole King

Her life may be a tapestry, but mine is a patchwork quilt of mismatched fabrics that were handed to me at birth and at each place I’ve been. There’s the blood red of anger and conflict; the dark brown of sweet chocolate dreams; the brilliant colors of sunshine and flowers; the torn places of grief and loss; the pale color of my skin; the blue of sky; the salt of tears. Though my quilt is old and worn, it represents multiple layers of memory and many unfinished squares of hope.

In the center of this quilt is my heart. From the time we are very young, each of us develops such a heart. The ethnicity and the culture in which we were raised shaped us deeply. From that heart’s center and through the gift of life, we develop our own core values, vision, and mission to carry on. When the center is most closely aligned with our god, or true north, we are at our best.

In reading about and experiencing the spiritual life of children, one paradox is how naturally they are grounded in themselves and their understanding of the world. They are curious and open to new ideas, new people.

We who solidify the center too soon end up with hardened and impermeable edges. There is a tendency to be easily offended and to seek another identity when the previous one lets us down.

Sometimes we get off-center, “ec-centric,” as Richard Rohr describes it. Then we get stuck in our own egos and say to ourselves, “It’s my life, my needs, my religion, my security, my children, my pain—and nobody better get in my way.”

On the other hand, we who give up our boundaries too soon shift too easily according to someone else’s heart center. There is a strong need for security, and a constant search for another group, another experience, or another person to feel secure.

Why is it so hard to find our heart’s center when it’s there all the time? Why do we need to center ourselves time and time again? We do so to find a balance between our own true selves and the edges of our lives. The ongoing challenge is to find a balance of true north with an expandable circumference.

To find your personal core requires taking enough time to attend to your present reality and by tuning in to the present. During our services here, the recitation of Joys and Concerns is followed by a brief minute of silence for reflection and prayer. For some of us it is easier to attend the entire service than to spend that minute in quiet centering.

It’s easier to read about the [vision and mission of the church/the principles of UUism and its living tradition] than it is to reflect on their meaning. Yet without that time for reflection so that we know where true north lies, how are we to know who shares else our core values?

The Universalist side of our heritage emphasized God’s love and acceptance to all people, and the Unitarian side recognizes the inherent goodness at the core of all persons. The challenge is to dismantle stereotypes and suspend judgment long enough to see into the heart of the stranger.

Our proud nation has its moments of shame when we have seen neighbors suddenly as strangers and enemies. We’ve had witch hunts, the McCarthy round up of suspected Communists, and in between, the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. I was reminded of this yesterday at a memorial service for 82-year-old Tommi Urbanski. She was born in Los Angeles in 1923 and her Japanese parents named her Tomako.

She had been married for 19 months to a U.S.-born Japanese-American. Her husband was serving in the United States Army when Tommi was arrested and sent to an internment camp in Arizona, 18 years old and pregnant. As her health deteriorated from malnourishment, her baby girl was born in the camp, where medical conditions were deplorable—unsanitary and inadequate. The baby died of dehydration.

Now you might imagine, and you could understand, how Tommi might have become a bitter soul, but you would be wrong. Oh, she had her share of suffering—two babies died, she developed breast cancer, her two living daughters were estranged for a time, her husband died. She never spoke of her suffering, especially to her children, unless someone asked her directly.

But to hear the stories about Tommi from those who knew her best!

For just over an hour, a continual parade of people went to the microphone to share how Tommi had transformed their lives, taught them to read, confronted local officials, wore outrageous hats, talked bluntly to women about getting annual mammograms, talked openly to teenagers about sex.

Two of her admirers are my husband Jon Montgomery and his daughter Karina. Karina wrote these words to be read at the memorial service:

I feel all this love all the way from San Diego and wish I could be here today. Tommi's spirit was too great to be held in just one tiny person such as herself, and all of us who were touched by her carry a piece of it always. I will remember her best for giving hugs you never knew you needed, for dances when words were impossible, and words that changed me in the times I needed them most. She helped me survive high school, and she is always in my heart.

Jon summarized his thoughts by saying, “Like Christ and Gandhi, there was nothing you could do to make Tommi stop loving you.” Tommi knew who she was at her core, and shared her love with the world.

Can we expand our hearts to this degree? In a world of prejudice, hatred, and exclusion, we are called to center ourselves and expand our circle of community; called to take a stand on the side of the marginalized, the oppressed, and the misunderstood. That’s why the congregation will decide on May 22 whether to add a Welcoming Congregation clause to our bylaws.

We celebrate the lives of all people, particularly in their rites of passage: the dedication of children, their coming of age, graduations, weddings and services of union, and finally funerals and memorial services.

When members of our Texas Legislature even consider the elimination of gay and lesbian couples from becoming foster parents, we rise up in protest. Sexual orientation is not catching! Why are people afraid?

Unlike many other forms of oppression, homophobia forces countless numbers of our friends to remain invisible. People don’t choose to be gay, lesbian, bisexual, or straight. We just are who we are. Transgender, by contrast, is not a sexual orientation, but an umbrella term for various ways people define their gender.

Center or Circumference? In a spiritual sense, everyone and everything belongs. Yet too often we confuse the outer shell with our heart’s core. The surface is not bad – it is just not the spiritual center that holds it all together. When we are off-center and then go deeply below the surface, we discover—conflict.

As a congregation, we have had conflicts in the past and we have conflicts today. After all, we must admit that we are a human institution full of well-meaning and ultimately flawed people.

Still, we make an effort to get us back to living our core values.

All of us have strengths, weaknesses, and areas for growth. We ask that all of us combine our strength to support “a nurturing environment where people of all ages can develop spiritually and personally as we demonstrate our shared values, perspectives and concerns with the larger community.”

In the spirit of Passover, “Do not hesitate to leave your old ways behind—fear, silence, submission. Only surrender to the need of the time—to love justice and walk humbly with your God.” (Alla Renée Bozarth)

All of humanity inhabits this one beautiful, fragile planet, the outer circumference. We humans embrace more readily those who share our heart principles. To bring us back into the center we may choose to collect all of the aspects of our beliefs, sort them out, and summarize them in a credo. It takes courage to put something like this in writing, then to say it aloud, then to share it with others. Yet do not believe that it will forever be etched in stone. Even stone will wear away, and even our fondest beliefs may be transformed over time.

Let me close with a poem that I am gradually learning by heart because it speaks to my heart.

“The Journey,” by Mary Oliver

[poem read as published]

Who are we? We are pilgrims on a spiritual quest that leads us ever forward and pulls us back toward the center at the same time. The world is endlessly fascinating and it is a real joy to be in it here with you. Let us continue the journey … from the heart.

Amen