Gather the Spirit

Gather the Spirit, Harvest the Power

Rev. Kathleen Ellis

July 17, 2005

The song we just sang celebrates the joining of people to build a free church that will serve the cause of human need. It calls on us to go forward in the power of love, and proclaim the truth that makes us free.

A church is one of the few places where people of all generations come together for spiritual nurture through care and healing, spiritual growth through education and experience, and spiritual challenge through service and action. Whether we are “quick slow thin fat tall short big or small” people, like the little girl in our parable, we are together and that makes us stronger.

I am not alone in turning to my faith community for strength. Think back forty years ago to the Civil Rights days. People began to gather in churches, sit-in at lunchroom counters, take seats in the front of buses, boycott them altogether, and march in the streets. It was a long struggle, but it was the will of the collective that kept them going as individuals day by day. Young Martin Luther King, Jr., stepped into a role he didn’t know how to fill; yet he became the focal point for a lasting movement. Even his martyrdom could not stop the people from harvesting their collective power.

For those of us familiar with those times, there’s nothing quite like standing on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, and remembering 1965. Crossing that bridge in person a few years ago, I could almost feel the spiritual power of hundreds of marchers facing off against hundreds of police officers with batons and dogs.

Dwight Brown, a Unitarian Universalist minister, was among them as they marched four abreast across that bridge. The leaders halted the marchers for a time of prayer. When Dwight’s son later asked, “Daddy, did you pray?” he said, “You better believe I bowed my head in prayer. I didn’t want my head sticking up above anybody else’s!” He also said his group of four was flanked by two black women, each of whom had bandages on her head. Knowing that they came back, defiant in spite of their injuries, he felt their courage and determination pouring into him.

Such is the power of joining together in a common cause. During my vacation, Jon and I visited with Dwight and Marie Brown, who have retired to Kerrville. It is good to remain connected to elders who have paved the way for a better life for future generations.

A secular example is a theater production based on the Two Lives of Napoleon Beazley. Does anyone know who Napoleon Beazley was? . . .

Napoleon committed a dreadful murder when he was 17 and was executed three years ago at age 25. John Fleming, a graduate of UT who teaches theater at Texas State in San Marcos, wrote a play about him. Fleming was fascinated that Napoleon was a popular honors student, yet got involved in a car jacking that went wrong. He had no prior criminal record, but he was black and he somehow killed the son of a federal judge.

Jon and I attended the opening performance on Thursday and were very impressed with every member of the cast. At the reception following, the surprise was that the real life parents of Napoleon Beazley were introduced. A community effort brought to light the complex issues surrounding a good life versus a sinful act.

When I think about community strength, my thoughts automatically turn to James Luther Adams, who taught generations of theological students and wrote extensively about voluntary associations. So I looked through my collection of books and on the web to refresh my knowledge about him.

James Luther Adams was a Unitarian prophet. He lived from 1901 to 1994 and made his mark as a distinguished scholar and theologian. While serving as minister in Salem, Massachusetts, he learned about a labor strike at the local textile mill that had received no press coverage. He delivered a sermon calling for public consideration of their grievances, which did in fact lead to press coverage and an eventual settlement. An interesting factor is that the mill’s owners and managers as well as workers, were members of the church. None of them objected to his raising the stakes in their dispute.

This experience convinced Adams that a liberal church can and must raise its faithful voice to call for justice. After seven years in Salem and just one year in Wellesley Hills, Adams was recruited to join the faculty of Meadville/Lombard Theological School in Chicago. He accepted the call, on the condition that he could study in Europe for a year before teaching classes. It was 1935.

Adams watched the Nazi government under Adolf Hitler as it ruthlessly crushed dissent while gathering strength for its devastating march across the continent. He was interrogated by the Gestapo and narrowly escaped imprisonment. He interviewed Karl Barth, theologian, Albert Schweitzer, and others who were involved in the resistance.

Adams, in his own words, had to ask himself,

What in your typical behavior as an American citizen have you done that would help to prevent the rise of authoritarian government in your own country? What disciplines of democracy (except voting) have you habitually undertaken with other people which could serve in any way directly to affect public policy? More bluntly stated: I asked myself, What precisely is the difference between you and a political idiot?

Upon his return to this country, Adams was even more convinced that we must not be content with vague slogans and platitudes about open mindedness and tolerance and inherent worth. We have to make a real difference in the world.

Participation in voluntary associations, including the church, is our best hope for promoting constructive change. Adams paraphrased Jesus when he adopted his mantra: “By their groups you shall know them.”

Adams also declared

There is no such thing as a “good person,” per se. There is only the good father or the good mother, the good physician or the good plumber, the good churchperson, the good citizen . . . The merely good person is good for nothing.

A democratic society, he was convinced, requires “the disciplines of discussion and common action for the determination of policy.” The work of government is far too important to leave to the government alone.

If we look around, people forever will gather in community and work toward common goals. They will continue to invite others into the effort and even if they never reach their goals, they will have made changes. Things are changing all the time!

Worship reminds us why we have chosen to gather in community. Ministers are called to serve you to the best of our ability, but everyone here holds the power to shape Live Oak’s identity and move us closer to our potential.

Let me just name three of the causes we support: One of them was National Cancer Survivors Day, celebrated here June 5. We have many cancer survivors here. Among them are two young people, Spencer Sartin, age 5, and Kate Todd-Thompson, 20, who have recently undergone treatment for leukemia and lymphoma, respectively. Our consciousness about cancer has been raised several notches. By joining together we have more fun and make a greater impact.

In our effort to attain official recognition as a Welcoming Congregation for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender individuals, the congregation voted to change its bylaws to include non-discrimination language. The Steering Committee adopted a proposal to endorse the 1996 UUA resolution on the right to marry for same-sex couples, and to support the Lesbian/Gay Rights Lobby of Texas effort to defeat the constitutional amendment banning gay marriage and civil unions on the ballot in November. Ravi Chandran and other committee members will be sponsoring a series of educational workshops about these issues.

Hands on Housing helps us help Austin refresh and repair one house at a time. Over sixty of us plus forty from other UU churches wielded tools, paintbrushes, and cleaning supplies at a single house on April 30. Our next opportunity is October 29.

From fund raising for worthy causes to legislative action to physical labor in the community, these are just three ways we have made a difference to others and have in the process changed ourselves.

John Midgley, a Unitarian minister in New England has a wonderful story about a woman who lives in an ordinary block of flats in a town somewhere in Central Europe. To paraphrase the story,

The woman leaves her flat and begins a walk across town, greeting an occasional neighbor, but clearly going somewhere and not stopping to chat. Her mind is thinking about things she needs to do, people she will see, good news and bad news she might share. She rides the tram for a several blocks, thanks the driver, and continues to walk just a few more blocks.

At last she turns into a side street—an alley, really—with litter blowing around, some empty buildings, some scaffolding, some rubble. She makes her way to a shoddy looking office building that looks unoccupied, but the door is open and she steps into the dark entry. Slowly she climbs the concrete staircase, holding on to the handrail, pausing at the landings, but going on up four dreary flights of stairs.

At the top, she breathes heavily, but a smile of achievement flashes across her face as she steps inside. Where is she?

This is her church. Two small, poorly lit rooms, with a bare minimum of furniture: a few rows of chairs, a table, a chalice candle, and a lectern. Some pictures on the wall of liberal religious heroes, some hymnals.

Why has she come all this way? This is her church and she belongs here. It matters to her. “I have a friend here,” she said. This is her church. Some inward energy inspires her to come week after week. She comes to be with her friends, to sing, to pray, simply to be herself in a place that makes a difference. What John Midgley sees in her is “an impulse that was unstoppable.”

We have several missions here—first, to renew this sense of connection with one another in nurturing our spirits; second, to educate ourselves about issues of importance, growing our spirits; and third, to help Live Oak make a positive difference in the world, challenging our spirits.

For all of these causes, we draw on all the resources we have at hand. To “gather in hope, compassion, and strength,” the text of our closing hymn, is to believe that we can get through any difficulty into the light of a new day. Hope sustains us in times of trouble; compassion rises when we feel one another’s pain; strength flexes its muscles when we step into roles we had not experienced before.

This is our church! We belong here! And the world needs us! May all of us continue to grow in hope, compassion, and strength.

Amen