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"Turning, Turning: The Holy Act of Atonement"
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A sermon by the Reverend Kenneth Gordon Hurto
© 2003; All rights reserved.
Delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Fort Myers, Florida 26 September 2004
Dear Gentle Reader: The sermon text which follows was an oral presentation in the midst of a worship service. Missing here are the elements that make for a communal experience: the music, the faces of companions, shared joy or sorrow, the noise of children, and the quiet silence that transforms ordinary time into the sacred.
Added here are unspoken notes and/or commentaries to the text.
A sermon is a living event, between the preacher and the congregation. If you are reading this after hearing, don't be surprised if it is somewhat different from what you recall. If you are reading this afresh, may the sermon you write in conversation with these words improve upon what follows. Blessings, Kenn.
Reading Before the Sermon: On Turning by Jack Riemer
Now is the time for turning.
The leaves are beginning to turn from green to red and orange.
The birds are beginning to turn and heading once more toward the South.
The animals are beginning to turn to storing their food for the winter.
For leaves, birds, and animals turning comes instinctively.
But for us turning does not come so easily.
It takes an act of will for us to make a turn. It means breaking with old habits.
It means admitting that we have been wrong; and this is never easy.
It means losing face; it means starting all over again; and this is always painful.
It means saying: "I am sorry."
It means recognizing that we have the ability to change. These things are hard to do.
But unless we turn, we will be trapped forever in yesterday's ways.
God of all peoples and many names - help us to turn: from callousness to sensitivity, from hostility to love, from pettiness to purpose, from envy to contentment, from carelessness to discipline, from fear to faith.
Turn us around, O God, and bring us back toward You.
Revive our lives, as at the beginning.
And turn us toward each other, God, for in isolation there is no life.
For those of you in our sanctuary who are perfect, who have your act together, I really don't have anything to say to you this morning. So, you may be excused, if you like.
Hmmm, thought so. OK, for the rest of us imperfect mortals, my remarks this morning begin with a paradox. At once, you and I are originally, magnificently blessed - as it is said in Genesis, creatures made in divine image. At the same time, we are markedly flawed, far removed from the ideal to which we aspire. Humans are a curious puzzle: half-angel and half-beast. We are incredibly beautiful and yet cursed with an immense capacity to mess up. We are each other's saving grace. And, we are a problem unto ourselves and to one another.
The chasm between the ideal, perfect self we would like to be and the real inept self we are is so frustrating. Try as we might, we never quite seem to get it right. One of my professors argued, "A horse never fails to be a horse; a human, on the other hand, never quite succeeds at being fully human." Or as St. Paul famously put
it, "the good I would do, I do not; the evil I abhor, that I do." This is so often true for me, that when I pray, I usually begin, "OK, Lord, here I am, still a blessed mess."
We're talking about sin and redemption this morning. In western religious tradition, sin is best understood as separation from all that is blessed and good. In that sense, we're all sinners. For each of us, many is the slip between our cup and our lip. That's the paradox: We are inescapably split apart, one part wise and good, another, well less so. That gap! Mind the Gap! is not just a warning message for the London subway system. It's about our lives. Mind the gap lest it grow wider and more dangerous.
Happily, we yearn to be whole. The angelic side of us hates being a house divided. Thus, we feel a pull toward health. Another meaning of the word sin is "to miss the mark." You and I usually know what to do to stay healthy of body, mind, and moral living. Yet, too often we show an unwillingness to be steadfast to our vows. Many of our attempts are cunning deceptions combined with half-hearted efforts. If there is an original sin, it is laziness.
In this regard, Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, has something to offer to Unitarian Universalists. Both Jewish and Christian traditions consider resolving the paradox of beauty and frailty to be the essential message of the religious life. To atone is to close the gap between the human and the divine. Ritual acts of confession and repentance get us back on the highroad toward what is angelic in us.
The Christian the way to become reconciled with God is suggested by a phrase in the Book of Common Prayer, "There is no health in us." Sin is our condition. Reflecting the doctrine of the fall, the Christian idea is that we humans are ever lost and in need of a savior to atone on our behalf. St. Anselm put forth this idea in the 11th century, saying by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, who died for our sins, we are saved. This is known as the doctrine of vicarious atonement. All we have to do is accept it.
Our Jewish cousins have a different take on the matter. Judaism also is candid about the disconnect between what we say and do. Sin is our choice. The Hebrew Bible is filled with tales of people worshiping false gods, the idols of power, greed, or lust. Yet, the it also teaches that God's promised love is always present and available. All that keeps it hidden is our unwillingness to own up to our short-comings. The purpose of the High Holy Days is to help people own up, confess, make amends, and recovenant and to be at one with the divine once more. But we have to make the effort.
Is there any doubt in your heart of the need to wrestle with our dual nature, hoping to be more angel, less beast? Is there any doubt that sin means both separation from all that is good and missing the mark of your good intention? If not, then the need for atonement is yours as well as mine.
The way to atone has three very clear steps: Confession, Repentance, and Re-commitment. Here's the good news: it is possible to become whole. Here's the bad news: first we have to lay it out, all the ways we fall short. Confession finally may be good for the soul, but initially it's hell on our egos. Or as Lucy put it when advised by Charlie Brown to tell her mother she was sorry for misbehaving, "I'd rather die."
It comes hard, this 'fessing up. Like that "not me" character in the Family Circus cartoon, we're better at disowning our failures. "Hey, I don't have a drinking problem. I can handle it." "I really didn't cheat on that exam." What's that old excuse, "The devil made me do it." So ashamed and humiliated, even frightened we'd rather die first that admit our mistakes.
When denial doesn't work, we often blame others for our problems."Ah, people shouldn't be so thin-skinned, and besides, she is a jerk." "I didn't do it, besides he had it coming." "Our soldiers at Abu Gharib are good people. They were just following orders. It's a systemic problem."
So, I'm good at it, you're good at it. We deny, we blame, we justify, using all kinds of tricks to convince ourselves of our innocence. But, the drive toward wholeness eventually brings us to look, really look at the person in the mirror. What we see there often isn't so pretty. It's a pain we'd rather avoid. However, healing sin begins when the illusions fall away. Name the devil and it loses it's hold over us. "My God, what have I done?" As Nikos Kazantzakis writes, "The enemy is within, Judas." Jewish teaching speaks of the Book of Life in which all our acts are recorded. There will be an accounting, of that you may be sure.
The Buddha said the key to enlightenment was awareness. Stripped of our pretenses, it is tempting to think there is nothing left worth saving. If a sinner's first mistake is hubris and false innocence, the second is to conclude "there is no health in me." You can go too far and convince yourself that you are at core truly a wretch, unclean and unworthy, beyond saving. At which point, it is good to be reminded, we're only half-beast.
Judaism and Christianity have differing interpretations as to why we sin and differing prescriptions for dealing with it. In this, though, we Unitarian Universalists are more like the Jews: we think of sin - not as inevitable to our nature - but as the result of freedom. To be a moral being, you must be able to choose between right and wrong. In our frailty, laziness, whatever, we often choose poorly. As with the Jews, we Unitarian Universalists don't expect any one to come down from on high to fix things. We see atonement as a matter of getting back on the right path. It is our personal responsibility - although we often need help to get there. But we do believe it possible, even if we have to start over many times. As William Ellery Channing (founder of American Unitaianism,early 19th ct.) once put it, "I learned the right way by first having tried every wrong one."
In his writings, Emerson (Unitarian minister, poet) speaks of our yearning for a "world elsewhere." By that he does not mean getting out of Florida to avoid hurricanes. No, the world elsewhere is where our the gap is ever smaller, where the light in our soul prevails and guides us, not the petty needs of our ego or the anxieties of our fears. To be restored to grace is like arriving at a new world, with a new life. To atone is to be a house divided no longer. It is a joyful place, and amazing.
To get there, we begin with confession. That's hard, as I've said. The next step is harder still. we must repent. Yep, you heard me right. Repent and be saved.
Stop! No need to run from the room. This is not a revival. Repent and be saved? Such an old saying. It comes from St. Paul, who said, "Repent and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out." [Acts 3.19] What does that mean? Repentance, says Kathleen Norris, is "turning away from a stubborn ... position that cannot accept what is new and different." To repent is first to admit that you've messed up. It is also to turn in a new direction, to imagine you can take a different path than the one you've been on. You can put the drink down. You can stop the lying. You can let go of your indignant anger. You can stop the abuse. To repent is to put aside bad choices. It is to turn back, foreswear foolish ways. To repent is also a taking up. Earth shall be fair when we commit anew to honesty, kindness, fair-dealing, truthfulness. Minding the gap, we move closer to our ideals, to our sense of the holy, the world elsewhere becomes the world at hand.
It is not always clear how to do that. This is where rituals like Yom Kippur come in. Rituals are ways of channeling powerful energy into productive change. The Yom Kippur observances call for prayers and sacrifices to attune one to the spiritual way of life over the material. But the primary focus is to acknowledge all the ways you have taken the name of God in vain, have succumbed to lazy sin, or have ignored, perhaps even rebuffed your convictions, commitments and community.
This is followed by the making of amends. Believers are encouraged to make their apologies for wrongs done to family and friends. It's saying the "I'm sorry's." It's the "what can I do to make up for the harm I have done you?" For you cannot begin anew until all debts are paid and the slate is clean. Do that and you're good to go. Yom Kippur is about sin and redemption. It promise is forgiveness. Do these simple things and forgiveness is guaranteed. That's right, it's guaranteed. Wow, that's one powerful ritual!
Our Unitarian Universalist heritage downplays the need for such ritual, which is too bad. I think our ministries would be more powerful if we did devise a ritual way to cleanse our shame and put aside the regrets of our lives. Nonetheless, our good news is this: we believe creation is ever a blessing, that renewal and new life is ever possible. We believe any of us can turn our lives around, perhaps not easily, perhaps not quickly, but we can turn away from foolish ways toward a world elsewhere.
The word "conversion" means literally to turn around. In part, we come to this faith community to affirm the angel of our souls. In part, we come also to be converted, to be turned away from the beastly toward noble.
That turning can be a moment of great release. Feeling clean again, unsullied, feeling whole, not broken, feeling found, not lost is a joy. Feeling the scales of blinding illusion fall away is a liberation. Letting go of all those chains binding our soul sets us free and makes us, simply, happy. It is not surprising that tears of gladness flow.
There are many heart-stirring, eye-watering stories of people who found themselves anew. Each is good news and a hopeful reminder that you and I, however lost we may feel, can find our way too.
But of all those stories, few touch me like that of John Newton. Newton was born in England in 1725 and lived a life that needed turning. The marble plaque on his tomb reads:
John Newton, Clerk. Once an infidel and libertine, A servant of slaves in Africa, Was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Saviour JESUS CHRIST, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the Gospel.
Newton's mother died when he was seven. At 11, with but two years schooling, John went to sea with his father to a life filled with a sailor's recklessness. He grew up godless. He was foul of mouth and personality, a drunk and a gambler.
Eventually, an unhappy captain traded him to a slave ship, where - even though he once had been enslaved - he served in utter indifference to what he called "the cargo." In 1754, just 23 years old, his ship the Greyhound was caught in a terrible storm. Lashing himself to the wheel, he steered the ship to safety. At the moment, he turned back to his mother's God for blessing. He turned the boat and his life around.
Ten years later, John Newton was ordained to the ministry. He was best known as the "slave trader turned preacher." He became a prolific hymn writer and ardent abolitionist. His ministry led England eventually to bring an end to the awful practice. He turned the boat around. He turned his life around. He turned his country around.
Who knows what storms any of us will pass thru. Who knows how blind or lost we are. No matter. The point is to begin knowing we're not perfect yet. We're only part way there. But we are never totally lost. When we turn back on foolish ways and turned toward the sun of all that his holy, our lives are healed. Our voices sing with the angels.
This song we are about to sing, Amazing Grace, is John Newton's best known. It is about sin and redemption. In all my years of ministry, it is the only song that routinely elicits tears among Unitarian Universalists. May you sing well, cry if need be as you recommit to living your ideals of love and justice today and always. Blessed Be. Amen.
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, Who called me here below,
Shall be forever mine.
When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we'd first begun
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