Spirituality and Sunflowers

So for the past few years I’ve celebrated Lent.  This will be my fourth year partaking in Lent.  I started celebrating Lent when I was in one of the darkest times of my life and needed to prove to myself I had some kind of inner strength, because at the time I felt completely weak.  I gave up Diet Coke that year, something I honestly didn’t think I could do without.  That first week I was a bear and snapped at pretty much everyone in the known universe, bosses included (one of whom was initially supportive and then quickly told me “uh, can you start drinking it again?” after our chat.)  But it was mostly a spur of the moment decision.  The year after I was a little more intentional, and gave up bottled water choosing to use a refillable canister instead.  And that was a lot more difficult than I had initially anticipated.  Last year it was pizza, which speaking as a Youth Adviser where pizza is a given, was also pretty tough.

I’ve been thinking about what to give up this year in addition to trying to stick to the Busted Halo Lent Calendar Fast Pray Give (which for anyone thinking about trying some kind of Lenten practice I highly recommend.)  I had it narrowed down to politics/political blogs, fat free Pringles (a Weight Watcher staple of mine), hitting the snooze button, but I decided to give up my normal lunch.  Every workday I head over to Publix (a supermarket chain in the South) and grab a whole boar’s head sub.  Great Weight Watcher wise, filling, healthy, and convenient as right now where I work there are Publix’s in adjacent shopping centers.

But I’m going to brown bag it.  The money I saved, which will be at least 20 a week, I’ll put in my new-as-of-today Spiritual Savings Account, an idea from this book on Spiritual Practices.  Money to a) donate to charity and b) use for resources for my personal faith development (like books or retreats, etc.)  I popped on over to my credit union and opened up a new dedicated savings account for it.

I’ll also be giving up Pizza (but that’s more for Weight Watchers ) and I might give up the political stuff too, or at least cut waaay back.  And I’m going to try and follow along with that Fast Pray Give calendar as well for some daily inspiration.

So why do I do Lent despite not being Catholic or really Christian?  There’s something about it that calls to me.  A period of time to prove to myself that my spiritual willpower is stronger than my bodily urges. That there’s something in me beyond my body that can say “No.  Despite you craving this, no.  I am stronger than that.”

But it’s not stronger right this second   Off to get a piece of King Cake and eat my final Publix Sub for the next 40ish days.

I agree it’s essential that there be some kind of unifying mission behind Unitarian Universalism (covers ears due to the screams from pure politists.)  But I started thinking during today’s Beyond Congregation’s tweetchat about who has the authority to develop/articulate it.

Who or what on Earth has the authority/right to delinate what the mission of Unitarian Universalism is?  A General Assembly, which is an individual snapshot in time?  Congregations?  The board?  The President?  Can congregations adequately capture the mission of UUism with such a large number of folks who identify as UU but are not in a congregation?  Does GA have the authority to even do so?  Can a congregation or two put forth an idea for a mission of a greater religious movement?

Yes, I understand how on a congregational level we can come up with the mission of our congregation, but the mission of a religious movement?  Can congregations which make up only a part of a religious movement speak for the entire religious movement?

If it could be done at a GA, how would it be adopted at a GA?  Voted on by the delegates I assume, but delegates are members of congregations and leave out so many people – like all of those who can’t afford to get to GA.  How would they have a say in what the mission of UUism is?

If you ask two people what the mission of UUism is – you get two different answers.  Is there any hope for a unifying mission?  Is there any way folks can step outside what they think the mission of UUism is to what the greater mission of UUism is?  How on earth would we be able to do that?

I haven’t the slightest idea.  But there’s so much talk about what the mission of Unitarian Universalism is, but all I hear are personal definitions or what folks think it should be.  I just don’t see how under the current structure we have this overarching mission could ever actually be formulated.

Do other religions out there have mission statements?  Not churches, not church structures, but actual religions?  Maybe an overall mission statement isn’t needed by our religion, we just need a new institution dedicated to promoting UU identity with a clear mission of Unitarian Universalism (because I just don’t think how we have things set up now the UUA can do that.)

I think it’s essential.  I just have no idea how it could be done.

It was a foggy night, but it had been a perpetual state of fog since I arrived on Friday.  I had to use the vacation days by the end of the month or they were lost forever, and I happened to get a mailer for a free hotel room as I was deciding what to do.  It was slowly becoming an annual January tradition – a trip to the casinos on Mississippi’s gulf coast.

The fog kept rolling in off the coast.  When it was light earlier, I could see the fog blowing in the wind.  I had never seen something like it.  The swirls of water droplets, dancing to a tune only they could hear.  It was mesmerizing,

I walked outside, passing by what had to be the fifteenth bow legged cowboy I’ve passed tonight.  Yes, the rodeo was in town, and this casino was hosting it.  But really?  Why so many bow legged?  Hobbling around?  Did they have rodeo related injuries?  Maybe it was today and they were all sore?  They looked remarkably the same, a cowboy hat, a red shirt, and a pair of blue jeans generally with a lady friend on his arm (about even between blonde and brunette.)

I got the feeling of incredible sadness when I sat down outside.  How many dreams were destroyed at the tables inside?  I shivered.  Suddenly I felt the weight of all those lost dreams, the incredible sadness.  Sure, there were winners, but my mind was with those who were desperate.  The morning desperation was that of those desperately trying to win a buck to pay their rent.  The evening desperation, particularly tonight, had a more romantic flavor.

But wasn’t I desperate too?  I was desperate to get away for a weekend, to leave my normal life behind for a weekend.  Desperate for some fun, for some relaxation.

I leaned back on the bench.  They were beautiful trees – I never know the names of trees I see other than magnolia and pine, but they were typical of southern Mississippi.  They were trees I would only see in the South, and in the southern part of the south.  And the calm, foggy evening, was destroyed by the huge, bright, LCD marquee overlooking Beach Blvd.  I wondered if there was a way I could shut it off – it lit up his hotel room too – but figured it was futile.

There was one block of pixels that was broken – stuck on a light, sky blue.  I stared at that block of pixels as the sign went from promotions to upcoming concerts.  How would it get stuck on such an interesting color?  Why not just go out completely?

Without the casinos, this part of the gulf coast would exist, but it would be vastly different.  Little tourism, few jobs.  But were the casinos a boon to the local economy aside from the jobs?  I knew this trip I had only spent money at various hotel casinos, of which were uniformly controlled by massive, publically traded companies.  How was I helping the local economy?

I wrote the above Saturday night, well, more like Sunday Morning at 2am.  I had a nice relaxing time on my vacation, but something clearly wasn’t sitting right.  After waiting outside for my to go order to be ready for a late dinner, I went back up to the hotel room and typed that out while eating.  And I decided to try and attend the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship in the morning.

The fog was incredible, yet again.  I played a few more hands of blackjack, losing, hit up the free buffet I had been comped, checked out and bid my goodbye to the casino.  I grabbed the address of the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship from google and headed out.  It was fifteen to twenty minutes away, and I was going to be about five minutes late according to my GPS, probably more because I had trouble seeing any stoplights until I was under them.  It had been ages since I had seen that thick of fog, and never for days on end.

I finally arrived – but no fellowship.  After searching the area for a good 5 minutes, gave up, looked back online and turns out they had just recently moved.  To a place about 10 minutes from the casino I was originally at.  To the breakfast room at the Econolodge.  I backtracked, now aggravated I would be thirty minutes late.  I contemplated not going at all – just blowing it off and heading back home.  But something made me go anyways.  Maybe I would be able to sneak in the back without folks noticing I was 30 minutes late.

No go.  I opened up the door to the breakfast room with the proud sign proclaiming a meeting of the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship and all heads turned towards me.  The minister, a consulting minister, paused in the middle of what she was saying to big me welcome, and they continued on with their service.  I plopped down in the chair closest to the door, so I wouldn’t be an interruption.

The minister wasn’t preaching today – wasn’t the one preaching Sunday a month for her.  I looked around – my tablemate was clearly in his 80s or more, there were a total of about six adults and two kids.  One other looked to be around my age.  They all looked at me with a hopeful expression – I was worried they were thinking I’d be able to come regularly, wanted to become a member, that I lived closer than 6 hours away.  I felt…I felt somewhat ashamed that I was just dropping in from out of town.  The look of hope they had…

They were taking turns reading selections from this past year’s Minns lecture series.  I had read a couple of them before, so I knew vaguely what they were about. The readings were talking about how essential Unitarian Universalism is, and how to grow.  One of the readings was about young adults, and I swear, at one point every other person in that room made eye contact with me when they were reading about what young adults need from a congregation.  My heart began to break.

After singing a hymn (which I knew by heart) the minister started talking again and then I was invited to introduce myself.  One of the first things I blurted out was, “I don’t live here – I’m from Atlanta.”  Just to get those looks of hope off their faces.  I couldn’t stand it.  I mentioned how I was just on vacation for the weekend but generally come down about once a year, was a member of the UU Congregation of Atlanta, and wanted to help.  The service wrapped up, including singing a goodbye while holding hands.  A singing benediction – I loved it, and quickly caught on to the tune.

Then coffee hour.  They were sure to offer me coffee, heck, FIVE different people offered to go get me a cup of coffee.  See, this was the breakfast room of the Econolodge after all, so they had coffee and juice they could offer me.  I thanked them but didn’t take up the coffee offer.  (Although I did later get a cup of juice.)

And I talked.  And I listened.

I’m still having trouble putting down the inner lion that’s roaring YOU HAVE TO HELP THESE PEOPLE to be able to adequately describe these conversations.

I heard from the consulting minister about how they’ve struggled in the area.  First Katrina destroyed their homes (and their fellowship building), then the BP Oil Spill destroyed their livelihoods, and then with the Great Recession, they have never been able to recover.  She talked with me in depth about how the biggest social justice concern they have is about flood and hurricane insurance – something not just never on my radar screen, something I had never even thought of before.

I talked with the president of the congregation.  She was the mother of the two kids, and she looked like she had to be under 40.  All she wanted was a place where they could have at least a corner for the kids – the econolodge breakfast room was too small for that.  Without a corner for kids where kids could be together and play, why would any young family stick around?

I talked with the treasurer.  They have land donated for a fellowship but not the funds to build on it.  They used to rent a storefront that worked great, but they had a hard time justifying the 1200 a month cost.

I offered my expertise with young adult group organizing, social media, web, whatever I could do.  They invited me to lunch and part of me ached to go, but I had to get back to Atlanta.  Back to my now shredded bubble of a home.

When I walked out of the econolodge, they were packing up the banners.  Oh they longed for a home where they could leave the banners hanging with pride.  I got into my car, immediately covered in fog, and sat for a few minutes before leaving.

My mind went to what I had written nary 10 hours before about desperation.  This was a different kid of desperation than I felt at the casino.  These folks were desperate for a home, an actual building of their own.  These folks were desperate to get their livelihoods back.  These folks were desperate for their lives back.  These folks were desperate to maintain their connection to Unitarian Universalism.

We’ve forgotten about this fellowship of fellow Unitarian Universalists.  They are our family, but we have forgotten about them.  They were destroyed in Katrina, but be honest, when you think about Katrina you first think about New Orleans.  You often forget how the Mississippi Gulf Coast was destroyed too.  Maybe it’s the New Orleans congregations you think of (incidentally, that very same weekend, the UUA Board was in New Orleans.)  But you don’t think about this Gulf Coast UU Fellowship, destroyed by Katrina, but without any other congregations close to them to provide emotional support.  They really are out in the wilderness by themselves.

How much do I take for granted being a member of UUCA?  We have a building.  Our own building.  We have multiple ministers, multiple RE staff, multiple support staff.  We have hundreds and hundreds of members.  Our 2030s covenant group meeting later that night had more people attending than this fellowship did on Sunday morning.

Folks down there seemed to be Unitarian Universalists first, members of their fellowship second.  They were desperately clinging to a Unitarian Universalist identity.  For a decent portion of my congregation, I’m willing to bet it’s opposite – they see themselves as members of UUCA first, Unitarian Universalists second.

They are our family.  I recognized one of the members from one of the Mid-South annual assemblies I’ve gone to.  When I walked in, I knew these were my family.  I’ve never really gone to a UU congregation other than UUCA, not even when I was on vacation.  While there, I had the feeling that if I was ever away from Atlanta, or moved, I would still be able to find home at any UU congregation or fellowship, because these folks were family.  But it’s family we collectively have forgotten about.  How could we?  They don’t even have a corner for the kids to play in.  How could we?

A tear rolled down my cheek as I pulled away through the morning fog, leaving part of my heart down with them.  This beacon of hope, shining through the morning fog.  They’re trying to shine through this fog of Katrina, of BP, of the recession and make it through and thrive in the afternoon.

I’ve got some more folks to talk with, from our district exec to the president of the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship, but I plan on doing everything in my power to help out this fellowship, from getting them help with their website to helping them raise the funds to build a new home to helping them get their stories told.  Expect to hear more from me, because I have to do something.  We all have to do something.