Sustaining the Long View
Rev. Louise
Green
June 7,
2009
Text Reading from Lifecraft
by Rev. Forrest Church
When Copernicus discovered
that we are not the center of the universe, we were made not weaker but
stronger. If we may happen to be
less central to the scheme of things than we once imagined, we discovered this
ourselves. We may be dwarfed by the immensities of space, but the mind that
measures these immensities manifests its own greatness. Halfway in size between the cosmos and
the smallest particle of creation, we exist in a kind of equipoise, our DNA as
amazing as the number of our personal stars.
One day,
I received email photographs from the Hubble Telescope, a reminder of the really long view of outer space. I
preached about this experience almost two years ago, and decided a few weeks ago
to revisit the theme this morning.
At that time, astronauts voted on the top ten most amazing pictures taken
by the Hubble over the previous sixteen years. The photo gallery was
spectacular--gorgeous colors, majestic sweeps of light, wild shapes of the
Eskimo Nebula, the Cat’s Eye or Hourglass Nebula. A reporter commented that the
images illustrated “our universe is not only deeply strange, but almost
impossibly beautiful.” The picture voted number one amazing was the Sombrero
Nebula, the M104 galaxy, with 800 billion suns, about 28 million light years
away. A light year is measured in
distance: the length that light travels in one year, approximately 5.88 trillion
miles. Or, as the second definition I read stated: “informal usage--a long
way.” You could definitely say that
is a long way!
It often
seems we have a very long way to go
in many matters, light years for some issues about which we care deeply at All
Souls. For example, in our UUA denominational effort to build a multi-racial and
anti-oppressive movement, we see long-distance running--from abolition to Civil
Rights era action all the way down to 21st century practices and
challenges. At All Souls, we have been working most explicitly on these issues
for a decade, through Jubilee anti-racism trainings, staff transitions, several
internal conflicts, and ongoing shifts in congregational demographics. Come a long way, still have light years
to go on multi-racial mission and change—no one thinks this work will be
finished anytime soon.
Yet we
are called to keep the faith on this and so much else. How do we take the wide view, the long
view, and maintain? Forrest Church
tells us that, “Halfway in size between
the cosmos and the smallest particle of creation, we exist in a kind of
equipoise, our DNA as amazing as the number of our personal stars.” One definition for “equipoise” was
intriguing: “a condition where there is a
balance between different social, emotional, or intellectual forces.” Or a second definition of “something that creates a balanced state,
usually by counterbalancing some other force or thing.”
We might
maintain equipoise in any challenging situation by looking in other directions,
perhaps counterbalancing our passion about the issue at hand with some
old-fashioned stargazing. When we see the breath-taking pictures from the
Hubble, we are reminded of long, long distance, and the wild beauty of space. As
we learn about the complexities of individual DNA, we are incredibly detailed
human beings observing extremely complex galaxies. As Church expresses this
counterbalance, we ourselves discover outer space, simultaneously a humbling and
pride-worthy accomplishment.
Looking
further into dictionaries, the word “poise” embedded in “equipoise” is defined
as “a state of hovering or being in
suspension,” or “a graceful,
controlled way of standing moving, or performing an action.” We achieve
poise by adding grace into our lives, maintaining a state of hovering that is
deeply rooted to the past, keenly observant in the present, slightly leaning
towards the future.
We all
know folks who have burnt out over time, from too much intensity, or too long
staring into the fires of anger and blame. There are very few causes that will
benefit for long from our complete obsession--effectiveness and clarity tend to
dwindle when we get burned up in our own comet of action. Adding grace to our
lives, that controlled way of moving with poise, might be in finding a community
of friends, falling in love, embracing new spiritual practice, getting a puppy,
or simply going to watch the cosmos on I-MAX. However you find that grace, hover a
bit, be suspended as you recharge your batteries for the next run. Looking
outward in other directions is key to maintaining the energy to look deeply
inward at long, hard issues.
Let’s move
from celestial galaxies to the deep, rich, soil of our own planet Earth for
another perspective on sustenance.
Rev. Meg Riley, the UUA Director of Advocacy and Witness, once spoke to
me about her plans for a 2008 rest and renewal. One month was to be a sabbatical in her
garden, where Meg spent each day planting, weeding, writing, eating, pondering
life. This is a wonderful way to
get the long view, gardening as deep reflection. When we acknowledge that there
are cycles and seasons, passages from one state to another over time, we are set
free from only immediate outcomes. Gardening reminds us that the earth will turn
over, that letting go is necessary for new growth. Whatever action we take will
surely benefit from that kind of reflection.
When the
wheel of living and dying turns in the garden, we are witnesses as fellow earth
creatures, as organic material that will also be compost or ashes one day. No
matter how many great moves we plan over months or years, or how many organizing
victories we achieve over decades, the moment of our individual turning will
come in one minute. In Lifecraft, Forrest Church,
reminds us:
That’s the way death works.
We hit a trap door. It opens, and we fall.
We may fall for a minute, a month, or a year, but once the trapdoor
springs, there is nothing we can do.
Even more sadly, nothing will change all the minutes, hours, days, weeks,
months, and years that slipped by unconsciously before we fell.
I find this
realization freeing, not depressing, liberating, not frightening. To me, this means that time spent
outdoors observing nature is as important as time engaged in strategic action,
time with family and friends over good food is as urgent as organizing. Time
meditating or seeing silly movies or making music may be as satisfying over a
lifetime as seeing cultural transformation happen on any given day. When we take
the perspective of light years, sustaining the long view, all of our choices
matter.
My current
thinking arises from the somewhat alarming vantage point of middle age. There is
nothing like getting your first few years of AARP mailings to shock the system.
How do they know my age and where I live?! Turning 52 this summer, and through
six months of breast cancer treatment, I am now on a wide-view plateau. Engaging in the evaluation of life after
50, and post-health crisis, has been transforming. Somewhat secure in completing
five decades of living with a modest degree of learning, I am insecure knowing I
am most likely more than halfway to the trap door.
My
perspective has changed over twenty years of ministry, as the folks I
accompanied early on are reaching new milestones. I have worked on many issues
in several cities, organized a hundred events and actions, and realize we rarely
win in one campaign. This very week
reminded me sharply of the ongoing cycles of life. My second baby baptism was for my niece,
and I watched with pride as she graduated from high school last Sunday in New
Jersey. On Tuesday morning, I stood
with over fifty diverse clergy united for DC marriage equality, and my tears of
joy and healing came unannounced. On Thursday evening, I was with a family whose
mother and sister had passed that morning, receiving stories of grace and
synchronicity in that unexpectedly brief movement towards
dying.
In all the
turmoil of living, I am grateful for a poem by Archbishop Oscar Romero, cut down
by an assassin at the height of his effectiveness in El Salvador. He reminds us to take the long view,
asserting that we will plant seeds for harvests we will never know, and till
ground for crops that are planted long after we have moved to new ground. Romero says, we can’t possibly do
everything, and therefore, it is imperative we do something.
Do that
something with passion, commitment,
and courage, and yet remember to sit in the garden, to stare out at the
stars. The long arc bending towards
justice can be very, very long indeed. Therefore we must nurture ourselves for
the duration, through cycles of joy, conflict, loss and rebirth.
May we
find sustenance for the long haul, and the poise to hover in graceful
counterbalance. Blessed Be and
Amen.